Curse of the East (Fili/The Hobbit Fanfiction)

Chapter 23 - A Way Out

We all crowded around the fire, none of us saying much as we stared into the flames. I found myself thinking back to that night in the Shire; the songs that were sung, the excitement everyone was feeling, how carefree we had all seemed. It felt now as though those memories were from another life entirely. Like it happened to someone else and I had read a story about it. We weren't the same as the company that had left the Shire all those months ago. We were all of us very different; and I wasn't entirely sure that it was a good thing.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Sigrid was suddenly standing before me with a shy smile on her face and a dry tunic in her hand. She held it out to me.

"It's not much, but it will keep you warm." She said quietly, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. I smiled, looking around at the others as they simply stripped off their wet tunics and pulled the dry ones on. I blushed, not particularly fond of the idea. Sigrid looked at me for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "My rooms the second door on the right if you want to change in there," She whispered, pointing down a small hallway. I nodded, thanking her quietly as I moved quickly into the small room.

It was plain, a single large bed sat under the window and a bureau pressed up against the far wall. I changed quickly, trying not to feel guilty as my mind flashed back to my bedroom in the Shire; filled nearly to capacity with things I had no real use for. I shook the memories away, opening the door again and making my way back to where everyone was gathered. Bain handed me a blanket as I passed him and I smiled gratefully at him. I hung my wet tunic in front of the fire, hopeful it would be dry by the time we left.

I wasn't sure whose tunic I was wearing, but the sleeves were much to long for my arms; and the hem fell almost to my knees. I wasn't complaining though, they were being much kinder to me than I deserved. I still hadn't forgiven myself for holding that blade to Bard's throat; even if I had been doing it for the sake of my friends.

I looked up from the fire to see Thorin standing by the window, looking at something I couldn't see; though the expression on his face was much like the one I had seen when we had caught our first glimpse of the Lonely Mountain all those weeks ago on top of the Carrock. I stood slowly, making my way over to him; surprised when I saw what he was staring at. No wonder he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Is that..." I trailed off, still not entirely convinced my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

"A dwarvish wind-lance," Thorin whispered, his gaze never wavering from the weapon.

"Are you alright?" I asked, setting a hand on his shoulder. He nodded slowly, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"The last time I saw such a weapon.... the city... the city was on fire." His voice shook, but he spoke quietly so as not to attract the attention of the others.

"The day the dragon came," I whispered, "The day Smaug destroyed Dale." He nodded.

"It was what the Lord of Dale used to fire his black arrows. Few of them were ever made," Balin said, stepping up behind me. "The only thing tough enough to pierce a dragons hide, and the store in Dale was low when Girion made his last stand." Balin trailed off, though I did not need him to finish the story to know what had happened. Girion had failed, and the dragon had taken Erebor; the dwarves had been forced into exile and Thorin lost almost all of his family. Thorin looked back out the window, his eyes sad.

"Had the aim of men, been true that day; much would have been different," He whispered, his voice venomous. I heard footsteps, and when I turned I saw Bard and Bain staring curiously at us.

"You speak as if you were there." Bard stated, looking at Thorin; who looked to me, his eyes doing nothing to hide his panic.

"All dwarves know the tale," I said quickly, sharing a look with Thorin; the panic I had seen changing suddenly to reflect his gratitude, as well as his surprise at my lie. Before Bard could respond, Bain stepped in front of his father and met my eyes; his own alight with an angry fire I had not expected.