Iron and Oak

Chapter Nine

It was Dwalin who finally told him.  

"We need to give the lads a day," he said.  

"For?" Thorin replied as he looked from his map to the mountainside towering above him.  The sun was almost gone.  He picked up the grid Ori and Esja had been making to keep track of where they had already been on the mountain.  

"Bathing."  

Thorin looked up at Dwalin, "They want to bathe?" 

"No." 

Thorin slowly folded the map. 

Dwalin tried again, "They need a day to soak their sore feet and remember why they're here." 

"They?" Thorin replied.  

"I'll go back up there tomorrow with you, if you say the word, you know that. You should also know if we go, they go. I'm telling you that now is a good time to take a day." 

Thorin looked at his friend and second in command, "We're running out of time." 

"Aye, we are." 

"And even so, you expect me to give them a day." 

"Nay, I expect that when I tell you about the downwind smell of you, that you will take a day, thus granting the rest of us one." 

Thorin looked at Dwalin a moment longer, "Go. Tell them, tomorrow they may have their day if they want it."

Dwalin nodded and walked back to camp, not quite confident enough to suggest how Thorin should spend his day. 

Thorin leaned back, irritably tossing his pipe on top of his pack. The normally soothing effect of it not found tonight.  Why couldn't he find this Durin cursed door? Nine days they had looked. Nine days they had crisscrossed the slopes of the mountain, searching. Their hands running along every bare stone wall, seeking any indication of a keyhole. He was beginning to hate the cursed map.  He had worn it thin in spots where his finger had traced and retraced the moon runes and followed the lines of the mountain. And now his friends, exhausted and wondering if he could even find it.  

Only Bilbo's unflagging optimism kept them steadily moving during the day.  He had grown much in Thorin's estimation of late.  

And Esja, she alone made coming back to camp in defeat bearable. 

She had easily taken over the work of running camp, allowing all the dwarves to join the search. She took care of the ponies, had convinced him to allow a small fire to keep them in hot meals, and proved herself a patient healer. He looked down at his carefully bandaged palm. There had been no lack of work for her, mostly rope burns, blisters, and stitches from rolling rocks.

She had finally asked him to leave Ori with her at camp to help keep the grid of where they had searched. He had looked at her questioningly and laughed when she told him if Ori took any more rocks to the head, she would have to start pulling thread from their clothing to stitch it.  

"He should learn not to look up when we yell rock," he told her.  

He smiled as he remembered the annoyed look on her face.

"Very well, keep him." he had said. "I think Nori's been rolling them on purpose, anyway. It will be good for him to get his mind back to the task at hand." 

He sighed again as he ran his thumb across his palm. She had sat there at his knee, washing the torn flesh, then carefully applied a cooling balm and wrapped it in a clean bandage. And all he could think of was how badly he wanted to tear the veil from her face and toss it in the fire.