A distant light 9/?
Chapter 8: The gift of a blade
Boromir’s sword was ripped from his hand by a forceful attack, the Orc axe hooking right behind the guard and flinging the blade across the field. He used his equally battered shield to knock back the enemy, he cast a glance around, any still serviceable orc saber would do.
“Boromir - catch!” Kili had reached to his back grabbing his axe.
Boromir had long noticed the dwarf carried an axe additionally to the sword, but had never paid closer attention to that detail. He saw Kili throw the weapon it whirled through the air actually cleaving a goblin’s skull. Deftly Boromir picked up the weapon and turned towards the next Orc to fight on but before he could even hit him the Orc was felled by a spear from behind. Riders had appeared south of them charging right into their battle. Spears cut down Orcs and arrows got those who had the sense to try and run. The riders swooped around the hill clearing the area thoroughly.
Exchanging a quick glance with his comrade Boromir closed ranks with Kili once again. He noticed the dwarf was not surprised but seemed relieved. “Friendly?” he asked softly, wanting to know whether this would mean they got rescued from the frying pan and tossed into the fire or not.
“Elves,” Kili replied, exhaustion and relief warring in his voice. “and yes - they are friendly.”
“If you claimed otherwise, son of Dari, I’d have to remind you that we are not our esteemed kin over in Mirkwood,” one rider had broken ranks from the troop and approached them, his pale grey horse having no troubles to climb the slippery hillside.
Boromir studied the rider quietly. He was elven, there could be no doubt of that, the stature, armor and his long flowing black hair left little doubt of his ancestry, not to mention the ears.
Kili bowed slightly. “I apologize, Elrohir son of Elrond, I would not imply that you were a wood elf.”
Elrohir dismounted, humor actually sparkling in his eyes. “And they would take grave offense if you did, Kili.” Getting more serious he surveyed the hill they were standing on. “It seems we came just in time - had your Raven friend not found me when he did, I doubt we could have been here as soon.”
“I hardly dared to hope there would be any help coming,” Kili said with blunt honesty. “Did the others make it?”
“My sister was the one who went for them; they should be safe in Rivendell by now.” Again his eyes strayed to the battle marred hill. “you two made the Orcs pay a dear price for hunting four hobbits in the wild. And… is this indeed Bolg and his foul mount?”
“Boromir slew him.” Kili knew that Elrohir’s hate of Orcs was just a great as that any dwarf could feel, only colder. Elven vengeance was something that could freeze the fires of the greatest forge to eternal ice. Still, he remembered it was time to mind their manners. “Elrohir, may I introduce my companion - this is Boromir of Gondor. He was on his way to your father’s court when all this began. Boromir, this is Elrohir, son of Elrond of Rivendell.”
“It must be something desperate that brings the Captain of Gondor so far north in times like these.” Elrohir acknowledged, but did not make up more formalities. This was a battlefield, not his father’s court. “Our healers will see to your injuries. Then we will ride back to Rivendell.”
The elves had chosen the next hilltop for their makeshift camp. Half their riders remained mounted, circling the hill in watchful guard. Boromir was still glad to sit down on a rock, now that the head of battle was fading from him, he became fully aware of his injuries and of the exhaustion settling in. “Raven?” he asked Kili, who had dropped down right beside him. He had seen that Raven on Kili’s hand two days before at the bridge, but not believed it to be of any significance.
“Kili’s family is one of the rare houses among dwarves that speak the language of the Ravens,” Elrohir replied instead of Kili.
The elven healer joined them; he was an elf with hair as pale as sea-foam and eyes like the wide seas on a stormy winter day. Boromir gestured him off. “Kili first, he took the worst…”
The elf’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Which is the same he says of you, Boromir of Gondor and I will have no argument out of any of you.”
Boromir did not argue any further, no warrior in his right sense tried arguing with a healer. He let the elf do his task and continued the conversation instead. “But how did you find us so swiftly?” he asked Elrohir. “Even with the Raven being some kind of sign…”
“It was not a sign - Arioc told me of your situation, all that Kili had told him to tell me and all he had observed on his own, which gave me a good idea where you should be. Once we closed in on you it was a simple matter of following the warg howls.”
So the Raven had spoken... Boromir recalled stories of his childhood that claimed that birds had a language of their own and that elves could speak to all animals. Fairy tales to tell children and yet, here they were in the flesh.
“What exactly happened?” Elrohir asked. “what got the wargs on your trail?”
The way he asked was familiar to Boromir, this was a captain speaking, wanting a report what had happened on his border. He would have asked the very same thing, ignoring the healer’s glare. “We found the four halflings and Thorongil…” He hesitated, no that was not the name the man used here. “Strider, in a vale off the road, near some stone trolls.” He began, quickly summing up the events from that moment to the hunt and the fight with the warg troop. “The rest you saw.” He finished.
“They were searching for Baggins.” Kili added to Boromir’s report of events.
“Baggins,” Elrohir shook his head. “it seems that much greater things than just a dragon where set in motion all those years ago, when your Uncle led your people back to the mountain home, Kili. Do not fear, Bilbo is safe. He has been in Rivendell for quite some time.”
“I am glad to hear that. I knew he had planned to leave the Shire as he grew older, he spoke of that the last time we met.” Kili said. “Had I know he was in such danger, I’d have offered to accompany him.”
“Do you have any idea what would bring that many orcs, not speaking of the Nine on one halfling’s trail?” Boromir asked, he had noticed Elrohir inferring that it was something connected with the dwarf quests decades ago. It was a story he’d have liked to know in full, thirteen brave setting out to restore a kingdom and them succeeding, made for a good tale. But with the fragments Kili had mentioned so far, he could not guess what the enemy might want.
Elrohir raised his hands in a gesture of not knowing. “I do not know. It seems strange that the enemy would hunt a Halfling. Yet, Gandalf rarely pays attention to something or someone of no significance, whether others may see that or not.”
There was no doubt on Boromir’s mind that the elf was sincere. Maybe it was because Elrohir was another warrior that Boromir was able to trust him more easily, but he could not detect any hint of secrecy on the elf. Yet, he saw a very thoughtful expression on Kili’s face. “Kili?”
“A thought only… and none that I would dare to speak out loud in any place such as this.” The dwarf replied, his eyes staring far off.
“So it is truly something from your quest!” Elrohir said amazed. “Something that neither of you ever mentioned - or we all overlooked.”
“Overlooked,” Kili rose, unable to sit any longer. “and I am not sure of it either. Let us not speak of it here. Let us not speak of it at all - a spellsmith’s guess might prove as wrong as any soothsayers guess.”
“Only that your craft has the more keen eye for artifacts - and you saw Smaug’s hoard with your own eyes.” Elrohir let the topic go, seeing the dwarf would not say more. But it made him ponder. Dwarven spellsmiths were nearly as good and as rare as were the great elven smiths of old. And like their elven counterparts they remembered the lore of all the great and terrible artifacts forged throughout the history of middle earth. What had that dragon possessed?
The healer realized Boromir from his care. “They can ride, Elrohir, I have them a draught to get them till Rivendell, but they need rest soon. They were very lucky as it was.” He pointed out.
The elven horses were tall, nearly taller than the horses of Rohan. The troop had had no spare horses, so two of their warriors shared to free up two horses. Boromir cast a wondering glance at Kili, he knew the dwarf knew how to ride but these horses were too tall for him. Even if he could mount, and many children of the same height could already do that, would he be able to control the beast?
The dwarf must have sensed his gaze. “You’d wonder what skills you learn living among men,” he said, before mounting the horse quickly and with a skill that betrayed some practice.
“You seem to have wandered among my people a lot,” Boromir observed as they started their ride into the night.
“Aye,” Kili confirmed. “though I never saw the white city itself. The one time I came close I was met by a message from a dear friend, asking me to return north.”
Night was fully upon them when they reached the Bruinen ford, the waters were running high, a pale moon mirrored in the rushing flood. Elrohir gestured them to keep close behind him as they rode through the ford. The water seemed to part for them, allowing them passage. Behind the ford they found a path that led down into the hidden valley. A silver moon bathed the whole valley in its light, making the elven houses and towers shimmer pale before the darkness.
“They valley of Imladris,” Kili said with a small smile, looking about. The horses were already being led away by some of the elven warriors. “I hope you find what you sought here.”
Suddenly Boromir realized this was goodbye. Kili had done as promised and led him to the hidden kingdom of the elves. During the last days he had grown accustomed to the dwarf’s stalwart company. “You have my thanks for your aid, Kili son of Dari,” he said a bit more formal than ever before. “if your wanderings ever take you back to Gondor, you will be very welcome there.”
Kili bowed slightly, politely acknowledging the thanks. Then he took his axe from his back, handing it to Boromir. “A long time ago my king gave me this to defend the mountain home; it brought me through a terrible battle and saved my life more than once. They say that luck itself was forged into the Raven’s wing.” he said. “I do not have a kingdom to fight for anymore - but you do. And with the shadow rising your land will soon be under the tides of war. May it keep your safe in a thousand battles.”
Surprised and touched Boromir took the axe, he knew it to be a formidable weapon. In turn he drew the long dagger he wore alongside his sword. “Keep this, to remember a friend by,” he said, warriors often did this with close friends. “and… you may not have a kingdom any more to fight for, but there are places that would welcome a warrior like you.”
Kili understood the invitation it meant. He took the dagger with a smile. “Until we meet again, Boromir of Gondor.”
Author’s Notes
Now here we are - they have arrived in Rivendell concluding the first part of this story. Part I: The lone lands is done. But the story will go on, for their journey has not yet ended and the next chapter will be a Rivendell Interlude. Thanks to all of you who commented and voiced opinions. Opinions, thoughts and speculations are always were welcome.
As to explanations: My dear testreader asked me why Kili could ride a regular horse. Well, we know he can ride a horse because he rides a pony in the Hobbit, the skill is not terribly different. And a dwarf gets to be about 5 feet/1,50m. While not ideal for a regular horse, it is well possible to ride one at this size. Mounting is not easy and takes strength and skill to do well, but I have seen it done by small people before. So I decided that it simply was a question of practice and experience.
The Raven: In the Hobbit book it is established that Thorin can talk to Ravens, as does Dain. I decided to keep it a family trait. (With no doubts that elves understand about all animals they want to.)