The Final Battle, part 20: Shadows
Title: The Final Battle, part 20: Shadows
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Characters: Finrod, Gimli, Legolas, original hobbitses.
Fanfic 100 Prompt: 036. Smell.
Word Count: 1199
Rating: General
Summary: Finrod and friends keep on working on their uneasy alliance with the hobbits. Things get a bit dicey.
Author's Notes: Part of a Work in Progress based on the Dagor Dagorath prophecy. I own nothing.
They had always lived in burrows - perhaps, Finrod mused to himself, that was what had saved them. The way to the New Shire was long and dark - night or day, the distinction no longer mattered, though it seemed to the elf lord that the patterns of the stars changed.
They were pausing on the road, when Baldaroc Brandibuck wandered over and sat by Finrod. For a moment, both were silent.
“The humans call her Ursa Major,” he said, pointing to a particular set of stars. “Or the Big Dipper. I'd prefer the latter. Imagine how much soup you could make with a stellar dipper...”
Finrod smiled wanly. The legendary halfling obsession with food was no longer about comfort - it was about survival. He could see it in the hobbit's lean cheeks, in the way he seemed, even in the manner in which his rations were counted and spared.
“We could not see it when the sun shone over Valinor,” Finrod said thoughtfully. “It must be night.”
The hobbit nodded just once, pulled out his pipe. “I'm almost out of pipeweed,” he said tiredly. “Nothing is perfect in this world.” And then, snorting, he laughed derisively. “That's the understatement of the decade.”
“The Naugrim will have some,” Finrod offered, but a staying hand from the mature hobbit told him not to bother.
“I've been thinking,” Baldaroc said. “About what is happening - what is going on in the world. We should not stay hidden in our burrows, Finrod Felagund, friend of the dwarves and of men.”
Finrod nodded, looked up at the starry sky once more. “You are offering to join the fight,” he said slowly - and it wasn't a question.
“I want to speak to them,” the hobbit replied. “My forefather fought before me, and bravely. His fame is legendary - why should I live in any lesser way?”
Finrod nodded, and sighed. “Do as you wish,” he told the hobbit - “do as you see fit. If your folk join in the battle, the house of Finwe will owe all Periannath a boon of blood.”
It took Baldaroc a moment to measure the weight of Felagund's promise. Then he nodded. “Best see of those dwarves have some pipeweed,” he said finally.
* * *
Another long series of walks and stays took the company of dwarfs, elves and hobbits to the edge of a river. Dandellion Gamgee did not seem pleased with the situation - as he had not been for the past fortnight, or perhaps his whole life.
“They're too loud,” he was telling Baldaroc, out of human earshot, but not elven. “The elves might make it, but not the Naugrim. We'll never get them past the gates undetected.”
Finrod was quiet - he was not exactly listening, but he could not ignore the conversation either. It was Legolas who asked the question that was forming naturally in his mind. “Undetected by who?”
“By the Snouts, what do you expect?” Gamgee groaned in utter annoyance. His voice was a loud and angry squeak. The whole camp fell to silence.
And here, Gimli's eyes lit up - he came closer to the hobbits, barely towering over them. His voice was a happy, excited, slightly manic rumble. “Snouts, you say? What are they?” and then laughed, and laughed again. The dwarf had clearly missed the screaming sounds of battle and the release of enemy blood, whatever it was.
Gamgee did not seem amused at all. “They came lately - started making camp in the city. All the men were dead, and they took it up, made it theirs. They eat hobbits when they catch them. Women, children, even the elderly.”
Legolas wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Lovely,” he groaned. His hand moved along his bow, as if stroking a lover's skin.
Gimli grinned. “I suppose they wouldn't find my hide very tasty,” he volunteered. “And we are not a small number. We will kill them and make our way,” he roared. Behind him, the last of Aule's children clamoured in excitement.
Finrod, in the meantime, rubbed his face. Whatever the Snouts were, he didn't want to lose his already dwindling number. “Is there a way to find your folk, and our companion, without them knowing of us?” His question was calm - he was trying not to sound tired.
The hobbits looked at each other, and Gamgee broke their silent consultation before his time. “We use the sewers,” he said bluntly. “Will his lordship kindly accompany us?” He was almost sneering at Finrod.
“Yes,” he replied, and Legolas, over Gimli's visible eagerness, added, “And I will go too.” He might not have trusted the angry hobbit entirely.
“And I will go too,” Gimli growled, and contradiction, in that instance, didn't seem to be welcome, to say the least.
* * *
“This place stinks,” Gimli groaned as he and his party - two elves and a rag tag band of hobbits - preceded him in the murky, damp and malodorous tunnel.
“You insisted,” Dandellion Gamgee groaned back. “So shut up and keep walking.”
There was an audible grumble that made Legolas smirk. For a time, there was nothing but darkness and the occasional drop of unidentified, dubious fluid falling from the ceiling in a quiet splash. Things were floating in the tunnel - wide enough for Gimli to walk, high enough that the elves could almost stand straight, but not quite.
Baldaroc Brandibuck had explained that this particular tunnel had not been, to his knowledge, noticed by the Snouts as of yet, just as it had been kept out of human attention for as long as he could remember.
Nonetheless, the darkness and the stench were not reassuring - just as the floating arm (was it human or halfling? Hard to tell, decomposed as it was) forbade few good things. Left behind, Thorin Oakenshield and the dwarven host had required quite a bit of convincing. They were all itching for battle, and it was easy to expect that one would be forthcoming.
It had been best to leave the host behind and keep the party as scarce as necessary, Finrod mused. They still had a long way to go to meet with the elven host, and those who had gone to find the humans. He hoped - prayed - that Turukano and Elrond would find them, just as he prayed that his siblings and cousins who had remained in Valinor had sailed safely to the island where all would congregate.
Splashing sounds, muted, quiet, kept hammering the rhythm of their wandering into the Periannath's tunnels. It would have been soothing, were it not for the bleakness of their surroundings.
Over Finrod's head, a hiss slithered, from the ceiling down to his ear. He looked up and found himself staring into incandescent red eyes that screamed of loathing and hunger. He did not hear Legolas arming his arrow as he unsheathed his sword, nor did he have time to strike.
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Characters: Finrod, Gimli, Legolas, original hobbitses.
Fanfic 100 Prompt: 036. Smell.
Word Count: 1199
Rating: General
Summary: Finrod and friends keep on working on their uneasy alliance with the hobbits. Things get a bit dicey.
Author's Notes: Part of a Work in Progress based on the Dagor Dagorath prophecy. I own nothing.
They had always lived in burrows - perhaps, Finrod mused to himself, that was what had saved them. The way to the New Shire was long and dark - night or day, the distinction no longer mattered, though it seemed to the elf lord that the patterns of the stars changed.
They were pausing on the road, when Baldaroc Brandibuck wandered over and sat by Finrod. For a moment, both were silent.
“The humans call her Ursa Major,” he said, pointing to a particular set of stars. “Or the Big Dipper. I'd prefer the latter. Imagine how much soup you could make with a stellar dipper...”
Finrod smiled wanly. The legendary halfling obsession with food was no longer about comfort - it was about survival. He could see it in the hobbit's lean cheeks, in the way he seemed, even in the manner in which his rations were counted and spared.
“We could not see it when the sun shone over Valinor,” Finrod said thoughtfully. “It must be night.”
The hobbit nodded just once, pulled out his pipe. “I'm almost out of pipeweed,” he said tiredly. “Nothing is perfect in this world.” And then, snorting, he laughed derisively. “That's the understatement of the decade.”
“The Naugrim will have some,” Finrod offered, but a staying hand from the mature hobbit told him not to bother.
“I've been thinking,” Baldaroc said. “About what is happening - what is going on in the world. We should not stay hidden in our burrows, Finrod Felagund, friend of the dwarves and of men.”
Finrod nodded, looked up at the starry sky once more. “You are offering to join the fight,” he said slowly - and it wasn't a question.
“I want to speak to them,” the hobbit replied. “My forefather fought before me, and bravely. His fame is legendary - why should I live in any lesser way?”
Finrod nodded, and sighed. “Do as you wish,” he told the hobbit - “do as you see fit. If your folk join in the battle, the house of Finwe will owe all Periannath a boon of blood.”
It took Baldaroc a moment to measure the weight of Felagund's promise. Then he nodded. “Best see of those dwarves have some pipeweed,” he said finally.
* * *
Another long series of walks and stays took the company of dwarfs, elves and hobbits to the edge of a river. Dandellion Gamgee did not seem pleased with the situation - as he had not been for the past fortnight, or perhaps his whole life.
“They're too loud,” he was telling Baldaroc, out of human earshot, but not elven. “The elves might make it, but not the Naugrim. We'll never get them past the gates undetected.”
Finrod was quiet - he was not exactly listening, but he could not ignore the conversation either. It was Legolas who asked the question that was forming naturally in his mind. “Undetected by who?”
“By the Snouts, what do you expect?” Gamgee groaned in utter annoyance. His voice was a loud and angry squeak. The whole camp fell to silence.
And here, Gimli's eyes lit up - he came closer to the hobbits, barely towering over them. His voice was a happy, excited, slightly manic rumble. “Snouts, you say? What are they?” and then laughed, and laughed again. The dwarf had clearly missed the screaming sounds of battle and the release of enemy blood, whatever it was.
Gamgee did not seem amused at all. “They came lately - started making camp in the city. All the men were dead, and they took it up, made it theirs. They eat hobbits when they catch them. Women, children, even the elderly.”
Legolas wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Lovely,” he groaned. His hand moved along his bow, as if stroking a lover's skin.
Gimli grinned. “I suppose they wouldn't find my hide very tasty,” he volunteered. “And we are not a small number. We will kill them and make our way,” he roared. Behind him, the last of Aule's children clamoured in excitement.
Finrod, in the meantime, rubbed his face. Whatever the Snouts were, he didn't want to lose his already dwindling number. “Is there a way to find your folk, and our companion, without them knowing of us?” His question was calm - he was trying not to sound tired.
The hobbits looked at each other, and Gamgee broke their silent consultation before his time. “We use the sewers,” he said bluntly. “Will his lordship kindly accompany us?” He was almost sneering at Finrod.
“Yes,” he replied, and Legolas, over Gimli's visible eagerness, added, “And I will go too.” He might not have trusted the angry hobbit entirely.
“And I will go too,” Gimli growled, and contradiction, in that instance, didn't seem to be welcome, to say the least.
* * *
“This place stinks,” Gimli groaned as he and his party - two elves and a rag tag band of hobbits - preceded him in the murky, damp and malodorous tunnel.
“You insisted,” Dandellion Gamgee groaned back. “So shut up and keep walking.”
There was an audible grumble that made Legolas smirk. For a time, there was nothing but darkness and the occasional drop of unidentified, dubious fluid falling from the ceiling in a quiet splash. Things were floating in the tunnel - wide enough for Gimli to walk, high enough that the elves could almost stand straight, but not quite.
Baldaroc Brandibuck had explained that this particular tunnel had not been, to his knowledge, noticed by the Snouts as of yet, just as it had been kept out of human attention for as long as he could remember.
Nonetheless, the darkness and the stench were not reassuring - just as the floating arm (was it human or halfling? Hard to tell, decomposed as it was) forbade few good things. Left behind, Thorin Oakenshield and the dwarven host had required quite a bit of convincing. They were all itching for battle, and it was easy to expect that one would be forthcoming.
It had been best to leave the host behind and keep the party as scarce as necessary, Finrod mused. They still had a long way to go to meet with the elven host, and those who had gone to find the humans. He hoped - prayed - that Turukano and Elrond would find them, just as he prayed that his siblings and cousins who had remained in Valinor had sailed safely to the island where all would congregate.
Splashing sounds, muted, quiet, kept hammering the rhythm of their wandering into the Periannath's tunnels. It would have been soothing, were it not for the bleakness of their surroundings.
Over Finrod's head, a hiss slithered, from the ceiling down to his ear. He looked up and found himself staring into incandescent red eyes that screamed of loathing and hunger. He did not hear Legolas arming his arrow as he unsheathed his sword, nor did he have time to strike.