Leave
no one behind
Author: wanderingsmith
jun 2014
Summary: The reply was muttered in a quiet tone, "That's not a
sound you forget."
He sucked in a surprised breath before fairly growling, "Where
have you heard the sound of a warg before, master hobbit?"
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
AN: I know there are battle!plot gaps hte size of bodysurfing
on gold. I apologize.
Thorin rested against the rocks, letting his half-lidded eyes move
between the last of the sun's colours and his assorted companions.
His nephews sitting under the overhang, close together as usual; not
currently getting in trouble, but that wouldn't last. Dwalin
sharpening a long-knife while Balin smoked nearby. And Bilbo Baggins
walking back into the clearing from helping Bofur settle the ponies.
Without being aware of it, Thorin eyes stayed on the hobbit as he
made his way to where he'd set his kit. Watched as he reached in the
bag, not a doubt in his movements, and pulled out his pipe.
Organized even when in an unfamiliar adventure.
Watched as their supposed-burglar looked toward the same dying
sunset Thorin had admired minutes ago.
Watched him suddenly freeze. And was standing besides him by the
time the halfling hissed.
"Wargs!"
Only taking an instant to listen, Thorin started to reply, "Do not
let your im-" and then whipped his eyes out beyond their hill-camp,
beyond the forest below and to more distant hills as he heard the
faintest howl. Taking a deep breath and quickly going over their
encampment in his mind to be certain they'd taken all the
precautions that were available, he finally looked at the halfling
besides him, staring out just as Thorin had been, expression
surprisingly fierce. "You have good ears, halfling."
The reply was muttered in a quiet tone, "That's not a sound you
forget."
He sucked in a surprised breath before fairly growling, "Where have
you heard the sound of a warg before, master hobbit?"
The dark roil of fury inside him at the thought of this gentle
creature ever encountering the terrible beasts of the enemy of the
dwarrows made him tense, but Thorin stayed quiet, seeing memories
cross that beardless, and yet not-young face. Automatically
respecting another who remembered pain and sorrow. The rest of the
company that was near enough to be heard was equally silent, though
he didn't doubt looks were being exchanged at the evening's
unpleasant surprises.
"Many years ago, there was a summer with almost no rain. By the time
the first berries should have been picked, traders had told the
Thain that there would be little food coming from Outside either,
the lands of men also beset. Every hobbit that could walk and carry
spent the summer bringing water from the Brandywine to all the
fields, praying we could raise anything to help survive the winter.
At night the hills were flame as the dry woods burned, the smoke
making everyone's eyes and lungs burn. All the food left in the
Shire was taken to the deepest cold-smials in the desperate hope
that some would remain edible through a second season. And everyone
lived on short rations."
The arms the hobbit held across his belly made it plain this was no
repeated tale; Bilbo Baggins had lived through famine.
"Then the snow fell early and the Tooks and Bucklandlanders started
training every hobbit for what they knew would come. The children
and the infirm were moved to the deepest tunnels, along with what
food there was, and all the water we could find containers for.
Walls and barricades built around an area large enough to hold all
the people of the Shire. By the time the river froze, packs of
wolves came. But they kept right by us. People cheered, but the
Thain said they were running from worse."
"And then the goblins came during a cloudy week. We had bows and
slingshots lining the walls day and night; bands of goblins
harassing us. Small bands, scouts. Then two days later..." the
hobbit's jaw clenched, still staring out into the night, and though
Thorin wished to reach out.. he knew *he* would not appreciate it,
in the other's shoes.
"The first band of orcs riding on wargs came in the rays of the
first dying sun we'd seen in days. We could barely see them. The
adults defended the walls and gates as best they could with sharp
weapons or tools, several times having to try to push out pass the
wall for repairs to be done to breaks. The tweens and smaller adults
either manned bow and slings.. or, if we had no such skill, we
brought everyone replacement weapons and arrows. Or gathered the
wounded away from danger."
"We held for 3 days; until a company of Rangers came." The hobbit
finally turned away from the view, looking at Thorin with eyes that
were still half in the past and a sad smile twisting his lips, "I
was 20. And better at creeping than with a bow. No one.." This time
Thorin did reach out to grip a small shoulder, the shiver that had
crept into the hobbit's voice calling to him, "No one else could
have gotten as far behind the lines as my mother fell."
The words made memories of Azanulbizar blaze across his mind, his
grandfather, Frerin, hundreds, thousands, of other friends and loyal
dwarrows, and it took Thorin minutes to find even a grinding version
of his voice. "I grieve with thee."
The halfling seemed to understand that his words were more than
rote, his eyes focusing away from the past and into Thorin's with
sad understanding. Then he gave a wan smile, "You should have
mentioned you were going to hunt wargs, I wouldn't have argued about
coming."
AN: This was a
bit of nonsense that appeared a long time ago and just never saw
the light. reading Moonrose91's
A Home for my Heart and her Bilbo convinced me to clean it
up enough to post :)
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