Sigrid had already given my clothes back, who were clean now, and I was changing when someone knocked on my door. I quickly pulled on my tunic and opened the door. Thorin looked up and I led him in. I took my green thing and put it on. I took my belt, still waiting for Thorin to say something, and gasped my weapons to it.
I sat on my bed and put my leather boots on, trying not to wince from the pain my leg gave me.
"Can I help you?" I spoke up.
"We're leaving," He said, holding out his hand, "you coming?" I smiled and took his hand. He guided me out of my room, downstairs. I tried not to limp and to keep up with him.
I shot Bain an apologetic look when the dwarves stormed passed him. We sneaked through the night and it didn't took long to find the armory. The dwarves made a self made stairs and I climbed up, following Thorin. Thorin started giving me weapons and I tried to stood as steady as I could with my leg.
"You alright?" He asked, concern written over his face. I nodded and concentrated on not loosing my balance. I couldn't see were I was putting my feet what leaded to me falling from the stairs. My head hit a sharp point and the next thing I knew was laying downstairs, my head bleeding and with a knife on my throat. I look up to the others, ashamed of my fall.
"Let's take them to the master," a guard said. He pulled me up and I hissed when I felt my weight on my leg again. He pushed me forward and I tried not to fall again. Daylor and Faelar walked next to me. "That wound on your head don't seem to be that deep," Daylor said and I looked relieved, that was the last thing I could use.
The town woke up while we were being led to the master. The people gave us weird looks and my eyes didn't left the ground. "It isn't your fault," Faelar said, clearly wanting to make me feel better. "They never should've given you that much weapons to carry with your leg." "Faelar is right," Daylor piped up. "You shouldn't feel guilty."
We reached the master's house, a crowd was already gathering around us. The doors opened and a man, probably the master, stormed out of the house.
"What's the meaning of this?" He asked to no one in particular.
"We caught them stealing weapons, sir," a guard replied.
"Ah, enemies of the state then." The master smirked.
"This is a bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sure." Alfred piped up.
Dwalin stepped forward. "Hold you tongue! You do not know whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thor!" He gestured at Thorin and Thorin stepped up.
"We are the dwarves of Erebor," he agreed.
The crowd began to whisper in shock and recognition. The people craned their heads to see better.
"We have come to reclaim our homeland," Thorin continued, "I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North!" He turned to the people, who nodded in agreement. "I would see those days return. I would relight the great gorges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!" The people cheered and clapped, the master looked on, calculating.
Suddenly, a voice called over the crowd and Bard strode forward.
"Death! That is what you bring upon us! Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all!" The people started to speak anxiously.
I couldn't hide the thought that Bard was right. These people didn't deserve to feel the wrath of Smaug. But I understand Thorin's purpose to reclaim his home.
"You can listen to this naysayer but I promise you this; if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!" Thorin exclaimed.
The people shouted in excitement and they applauded. The master looked on, happy with the turn of events.
"All of you, listen!" Bard shouted, trying to reason with the crowd. "Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?"
The people quiet down and shook their heads sadly.
"Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?" He continued.
"No!" The crowd shouted.
"And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!"
Thorin and Bard exchanged an angry glare and the master stepped up.
"Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!" The master said, pointing accusingly at Bard.
I looked with wide eyes at Bard. Was Girion his ancestor?
"That's true, sire," Alford began, happy to have a chance to humiliate Bard, "We all know the story: arrow after arrow be shot, each one missing its mark."
Bard looked around as the crowd yelled angrily at him. I had pity with him. He stepped closer to Thorin.
"You have no right to enter that mountain."
"I have the only right," Thorin replies calmly and then he turned to the master. "I speak to the master of the men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"
The people quietly watched in anticipation.
"What do you say?" Thorin insisted.
The master thought for several seconds before pointing at Thorin.
"I say to you... Welcome! Welcome and thrice welcome, King Under The Mountain!"
The master opened his arms in welcome and the crowd cheered. I sighed relieved and exchanged a smile with Thorin.
That night the master organized a party for us. Sigrid insisted I wore a dress, so here I am, standing against a pillar watching the dwarves get drunk. I looked at Daylor and Faelar and was happy to see they had enough brains not to drink although they are watching me like they know something I don't. A gentle hand on my back made me turn. "Thorin," I greeted him, smiling. "Keira," he replied and he kissed my cheek. "Enjoying the party?" I looked at Alfred and the master. "Honestly? I'll be glad when we hit the road again." He took my hand and guided me outside. I saw that something was troubling him.
"Is everything alright?" I asked him, starting to worry a bit.
"We can possible walk to our dead, tomorrow," he started, looking at our intertwined fingers. I raised his chin so that I could look into his eyes. "I know we could," I began, "I love you and if we die, we'll die at least together."
"Yeah, about that, there is something I would like to ask you."
I raised my eyebrow. "Well, don't let me stop you, go ahead."
He raised his chin, probably telling himself who he is and then something came I never expected.
"Will you marry me?"
YOU ARE READING
Ranger of the South ➵ THE HOBBIT
FanfictionBOOK ONE OF THE RANGER OF THE SOUTH TRILOGY Keira is a Ranger of the South. She is summoned by a certain wizard to go on a quest with thirteen dwarves. Soon she finds out that traveling with a group of dwarves is more amusing than she had thought...
