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Mending the Broken Pieces	By : LadyLaran Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 13613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own "the Hobbit" nor do I make money from this story. Tolkien and Jackson are the ones who own the characters and world.

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Author’s Note – I almost didn’t get this chapter up today; we had an issue with the power company that didn’t resolve until near six tonight. I’m overheated, in a lot of pain, and furious with the company. I hate living in a small town where you’re stuck with one option. Anyway, I think I may end up hiding in a bunker at the end of this chapter!

Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Chapter Twenty-one – Underground Travails

Kili was the first to wake, wincing as he sat up in the large mushroom patch. He was aching all over from the falls he had taken but nothing felt like it was broken, which he was grateful for. The overly large mushrooms he’d landed in had cushioned his fall, and he hoped that Hawthorn and Ori had managed to land in one of the patches as well. He didn’t want to think of how hurt they would be if they hadn’t landed in the soft patches, especially with the hobbit’s old injury.

The archer slowly rose to his feet, spotting Ori not too far from where he was. He hurried to his friend’s side, gently patting his cheek in hopes of rousing him. The scribe woke a few moments after the prince called his name, quickly recalling what had happened and who was missing.

“Oh Mahal, Hawthorn! Is she all right,” he asked while the other checked him over to ensure Ori hadn’t gotten hurt.

“I don’t know; you were the first I found. You landed not too far from where I did,” Kili replied, helping Ori up once he knew the other dwarf hadn’t broken anything.

The two froze a moment later when a goblin tried to attack them. The creature was broken, limbs all out of alignment, but it was still determined to cause them harm. The attack was halted a second later when the sound of a blade flying through the air was heard and a dagger embedded itself in the misshapen skull.

Kili checked the blade, pulling it out of the corpse and recognizing it as one of the daggers his uncle had created for his courting gift to Hawthorn. He grinned, turning to where the weapon had to have been thrown from, and spotted the hobbit.

“Thank Mahal, you’re all right,” he called, rushing to her side with Ori right beside him.

“Somewhat, thanks to these odd mushrooms breaking my fall,” she answered, allowing Ori and Kili to check her over. “I feel bruised all over, but my leg and hip aren’t exactly happy with me. I’m going to need help getting up if you two don’t mind?”

Hawthorn bit down on her lower lip, muffling the cry of pain that emerged when the pair helped her to her feet. She had no idea where her bag was and knew she would have to try to deal with the agony until they rejoined the group. Hopefully, her Calon-Tad would have something to help.

“Right, we need to find a way out of here,” she managed to say once her breathing leveled out and the two dwarrow with her were satisfied she wasn’t seriously injured.

“Good thing you have dwarrow with you,” Ori commented. “We have a sense for stone; it not only allows our miners to find the veins of ore and where the gems are but also helps us navigate through the stone when we’re within a mountain.”

“Thank the Valar for that,” the hobbit replied. “Hobbits don’t have such a gift so I would have been wandering down here for days if I were alone. Before I forget, here Ori, you can borrow this until we rejoin the company. Hopefully, they’ll have our weapons with them. Kili, you can use the one you pulled out of the goblin.”

Hawthorn handed the scribe one of her daggers, glad the goblins hadn’t searched her too carefully due to the company shielding her as best as they could in that horrid situation. This way they had some measure of protection while wandering down here.

The dwarf took the dagger, then stayed close for her to lean on him when it became apparent her old injury was causing serious trouble. She limped between them, trusting them to guide her out of the mountain.

They traveled quietly, not wanting to disturb anything that might be on this level, and eventually, the hobbit gasped and stopped.

“Hawthorn?”

“I just stepped on something,” she told Ori, bending down to retrieve whatever it was she had trod on. “That’s odd.”

“What is,” the archer asked, helping her straighten when she stood upright.

“It’s a ring,” the lass answered, holding her hand out to reveal the gold band. It shone in the dim light, and the dwarrow shook their heads.

“Strange is right,” Kili agreed. “Goblins usually don’t keep jewelry like this around; their skills with metal work are fairly rudimentary. Whoever crafted the ring had some skill with metalwork.”

“Chances are good that someone dropped it,” Ori murmured.

“Possibly,” Hawthorn replied. “I guess I’ll keep it for now; I don’t see any markings on it to show who might’ve made it. I suppose there’s no way to find out who originally owned it.”

She slid the ring onto her finger for safe keeping and both Ori and Kili started for a moment, stunned by her disappearance. They stared at each other in disbelief before trying to find the missing lass.

“Hawthorn, where did you go,” the scribe asked, looking around to find the hobbit.

“I’m still here,” she answered. “I disappeared?”

“Yes, I think it’s the ring. Take it off,” Kili instructed, not liking the thought of not being able to see her.

She appeared quickly, shuddering as she did so. The lass looked pale and sickly, and it worried both dwarrow. When she spotted their concerned expressions, the hobbit quickly explained what had caused her to look so ill.

“The ring,” Hawthorn whispered. “It’s horrible; I put it on, and everything went gray. It feels wrong, like greasy smoke clinging to me. It makes me want to be sick.”

Before either dwarf could answer, there was a shout of “Precious” before a misshapen figure leaped onto Hawthorn from behind. She went down hard, screaming when the creature bit down onto her shoulder and shook its head in an attempt to rip her flesh.

Ori and Kili both reacted, burying the daggers into the body of the wretch that was attacking the hobbit. Ori’s sank into the spine while the archer’s penetrated the base of the skull, and the creature died instantly. They tugged their weapons free, then yanked the corpse off of Hawthorn. Carefully, they helped her sit up and Ori checked her shoulder to determine how much damage the attack had done.

“Are you all right,” Kili asked, terrified she’d been hurt badly.

“It broke the skin,” she said, shuddering with fear and pain. “I could feel the teeth sink into me through the coat and my clothes.”

“It did some damage, but I can’t tell how badly it hurt her. I don’t see a lot of blood, but the clothing could be padding that,” Ori stated, shaking his head. “We need to get her to Oin so he can clean it properly so there’s no infection.”

“Hawthorn, put the ring into a pocket,” the archer suggested. “If it makes you feel odd wearing it and that foul creature was looking for it, it can’t be a good thing and shouldn’t be left down here for a goblin to find. We should show it to Gandalf whenever he arrives, and let him figure out what to do with it.”

The hobbit nodded, tucking it into a pocket of her coat and buttoned the flap to make sure the ring wouldn’t fall out. Once done, Kili and Ori helped her to her feet and slowly, the trio began to make their way out of the mountain.

It took some time, but they finally emerged into the sunlight and paused to absorb the fresh air and light. The pause was a brief one because they could hear familiar voices not too far from their location, and the three of them headed towards where the sounds were coming from.

“We need to hurry; Mahal only knows what they’re facing right now, and they could be hurt,” Nori’s voice was heard, bringing a small smile to the scribe’s face.

“Hurrying means a greater risk for mistakes,” Gandalf replied. “We need to do this as quietly as possible so as not to bring danger to them and ourselves. If the goblins realize we reentered their mountain, they will try to find our missing friends before we do.”

“Not necessary,” Ori called out, startling the company. “We found our way out!”

Thorin and Dori were the first to reach the trio; the silver haired dwarf embracing his brother before checking him over to ensure he wasn’t visibly hurt. The king-in-exile pressed his forehead to Hawthorn’s and then Kili’s, silently thanking Mahal and Yavanna for returning his loved ones to him.

“I am so very pleased to see you,” he told the three of them, sounding relieved. “Are you injured?”

“Bruised mostly,” Kili answered. “Hawthorn needs to see Oin though. We had some really big mushrooms to cushion our fall, but her old injury is playing up. Then she was attacked by some strange creature; it bit her on the shoulder.”

Thorin gestured for Oin, and they helped Hawthorn take a seat on a fallen log. While the healer checked her over, cleaning the wound that had been caused by ragged teeth, Ori told the story of what happened. When the ring was mentioned and how it had sickened the hobbit to wear it, Gandalf straightened and looked over at Hawthorn.

“I would like to inspect this ring once we reach a safe harbor,” the Istar told her.

“You’re welcome to do so,” she answered. “I don’t like how it felt when I was wearing it. Sooner I can get rid of it, the better.”

After Ori finished the tale, he and Kili returned her daggers to her, which she placed in the hidden sheathes. They had been given their weapons back, and Thorin had done the same with her staff and sword.

“Good news is that the coat and layers you wear managed to keep you from getting damaged too much by that bite, even with the attempt to rip the flesh,” Oin told his daughter. “Keep it clean, and there should be no scarring.”

“What’s the bad news,” she asked, tugging her coat back on.

“Like the rest of the company, I lost my pack and the main kit I use for healing,” he answered. “I don’t have any of the mixture Elrond sent for when your injury flares up.”

“I’ll manage,” Hawthorn tried to reassure him, freezing when an all too familiar sound echoed through the air.

“Wargs,” Dwalin growled, gripping his axes tightly.

“We need to move,” Gandalf stated, watching as Gloin scooped the injured hobbit off of her feet.

The howls were now closer, and Thorin looked to the wizard. This was not a good situation, and he had wanted a chance for his company to rest.

“Out of the frying pan,” he muttered.

“Into the fire,” the Istar replied. “Run!”

Author’s End Note - You’ll note I made some big changes here; I don’t see the reason for the whole riddle scene with two others with her. I don’t think the changes deter from the story and hope all of you agree. I’m going to hide in my bunker now. See everyone next time! ~ Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces