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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.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note - You guys have been amazing; I hope everyone has had a great holiday and will be safe over the new year. Thank you so much for being with me through all this. Enjoy the chapter!

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

Chapter Thirty-two - Escape

Hawthorn uncovered the method of disposing of the barrels less than a day after the discussion the company had held about possible escape methods. She was happy to see Bombur was right, but the sound of the river beneath the exit only frightened her. She strengthened her resolve, knowing she couldn’t allow her fears to hinder the company’s escape, and her report to the group only brought smiles to their faces as she tamped down on the fear so as not to worry them.

On the night of the feast, the hobbit hid herself away to shadow the elf responsible for the keys to her dwarrow’s cells. She watched as he was pulled into a small celebration with a few others, drinking rather heavily until the group of elves fell into a deep wine-induced slumber. Once she was sure no one would enter and wake them, the keys were snatched and a small invisible figure hurried down the corridors to the cells where her company waited.

Hawthorn breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the ring off of her finger, dropping it into a safe pocket and buttoning it securely. It took a few tries before she had the right key for the lock to Thorin’s cell and pulled the door open, finding herself enveloped in a very warm hug that helped to ease some of the bone deep chill she’d been dealing with since entering the palace.

“You did well,” he murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek before stepping away to take the keys from her shaking hands and free his company.

The hobbit was hugged by each member as they emerged from their cell, murmurs of thanks whispered in her ear. Her staff was returned to her by her father, who looked at her with an expression of concern on his face.

“I’ll be all right,” she tried to assure him, blinking when he shook his head at her.

“No, my lass, you aren’t all right. You’re too thin and pale for my liking, and we need to get you someplace where you can warm up and rest,” he insisted.

Hawthorn didn’t argue, knowing the entire company would ensure his orders were carried out when they reached a place of safety. She sighed, then gestured towards where their means of escape were waiting.

“We need to go this way; the elves in the room are drunk and sound asleep. While I’ve not seen any patrols, we’ll need to be quiet in case there’s someone still keeping an eye on things,” she warned. “I’m not sure I can stage another escape if we’re caught.”

Thorin nodded, allowing her to lead them through the hallways into the large room full of wine barrels. She gestured to where a stack of empty ones were waiting to be dumped into the river, and the monarch frowned for a moment to count the barrels. There was enough for all of them, but the problem was how to activate the switch from within the wooden containers.

“I think I know of a way for all of us to be in a barrel and still trip the lever,” Nori commented softly. “Hawthorn, may I borrow your staff?”

She handed the item over, then stifled a squeak when Thorin picked her up and carefully placed her into one of the top barrels. She hadn’t expected him to do that, and it was strange being picked up in such a manner since she’d not really been touched by anyone since her parents’ passing. The hobbit was slowly becoming used to the shows of affection and friendly touches from the company.

“Hold on as tightly as you can; parts of the river might be very rough,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips before climbing into his own barrel.

Once the company was ready, Nori got into the barrel closest to the lever and used the staff to push the switch into the release position. He barely managed to hang onto the weapon as the floor sank beneath the stack, causing the barrels to roll down and splash into the water.

Hawthorn shivered as cold water splashed over her when the barrel hit the water. Thankfully, while it tilted, the container did not tip over completely and soon righted itself.

The group of barrels passed through the small gate that had been set up a small distance from the trap door, and the dwarrow sneered when they realized no one had been on watch there. It was a mistake their people would never have made and were grateful the elves had made this error since it meant that no one would be able to hinder their escape.

The journey was swift but easy for the first half hour or so before they hit the first set of rapids. Shouts and a distinctly feminine scream of terror filled the air as the barrels were forced through the quick moving water, barely avoiding rocks, and were dropped down several small waterfalls.

There were several more sets of rapids the company had to endure and through each one, everyone ensured Hawthorn’s barrel was watched closely in case the hobbit lass was thrown from her container. Fortunately, while it tipped a few times, she was able to stay inside the safe confines of the wooden vessel.

Eventually, the current died down to a gentle flow before the barrels snagged on the bed of the river in shallow water. Once they came to a stop, Thorin climbed out of his and hurried to find his betrothed’s barrel.

Both he and Fili reached it at the same time, wincing at how drenched the lass was. Gently, they helped her out of the barrel and the monarch carried her to the shore, calling for Oin as he did so. The healer joined them, quickly examining his daughter and frowning in displeasure with what he discovered.

“She’s taken a chill, which could become serious if we don’t get her warm soon,” he told the two. “Her body is underfed and exhausted, which makes her more susceptible to illness.”

When they heard his words, the dwarrow immediately set to work. Fili and Kili went to scout a campsite well away from the water in case the elves tried to track them down. Dwalin, Dori, and Nori set the barrels back into the water to float to the lake in an effort to mislead anyone looking for them, and the rest of the company worked to find some kind of food for the evening’s meal as well as firewood to help warm everyone for the night.

As soon as his sister-sons returned with news of a campsite, Thorin swept Hawthorn off of her feet and followed the two. The fact she didn’t protest but simply cuddled into him was a sign that she was definitely at the end of her strength, and he knew they had to get her warm soon or she would become ill.

It didn’t take long before there was a fire burning in the small clearing, and fish and tubers were being roasted over the flames. Oin had stripped Hawthorn to her small-clothes and breast bindings before instructing Thorin to do the same, insisting he share his body heat with her. The healer and Gloin ensured their clothing was laid close to the flames to dry before sitting on either side of the monarch, lending their warmth as well.

The hobbit stayed in Thorin’s lap, shivering in his arms while waiting for her body to warm up properly. She was too cold and tired to feel embarrassed about her state of undress, trusting her Calon-Tad to ensure she was taken care of properly.

“Miss Hawthorn?”

She looked up, recognizing Bombur’s voice. The dwarf, also stripped down like the others so his clothing could dry faster, was attending to the fish and tubers that had been found by those foraging for food earlier.

“Yes, Bombur,” she asked, voice showing her tiredness.

“Thank you for working so hard to get us out of there,” the heavy dwarf stated. “I’m so glad we have you in our company.”

That sparked a chorus of thank yous from the other dwarrow, making her blush at the kind words. Hawthorn simply gave a soft smile, cuddling into Thorin as she did so.

“You’re welcome; I’m sorry it took so long and that I couldn’t get your weapons and armor for you. I couldn’t take the risk of following the gear instead of you. As big as that palace was, I knew I’d get lost as soon as I parted from you.”

“You did the right thing,” Dwalin rumbled. “We’ll find a way to get the sentimental items back later so don’t you worry about that.”

“I’ll try,” she stated, rubbing her eyes.

“Is she warming up,” Dori asked, sounding concerned.

“Not yet,” Thorin answered, rubbing his hands down her arms in hopes of warming her skin faster. “It’s as if the chill settled deep.”

“The ring,” the lass commented. “It’s cold whenever I wear it, and it’s like that cold reaches deep inside of you and freezes anything warm. I don’t remember feeling the cold deep in my bones like this during the Fell Winter.”

“Once things calm down, the wizard needs to take that damned thing and get rid of it,” Balin stated. “The invisibility is a useful thing, but the cost of using it is too high. There aren’t many magic rings left on Arda, and I doubt that particular ring is any good considering how it makes Miss Hawthorn feel.”

“I don’t want to keep it once the mountain is reclaimed and Thorin’s on the throne where he belongs,” Hawthorn stated. “I’d rather it be far from our home where it can’t hurt anyone.”

“Gandalf should be able to do something with it,” Ori said soothingly. “Considering his age, I’m sure he can identify what ring it is and what should be done with it to keep it away from people. From what I’ve read, he knows two of the holders of the elvish rings of power.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kili commented, blinking when Hawthorn shared what she knew on the topic.

“Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel hold two of the rings,” she stated. “I’m not certain who is the bearer of the third, but I know it’s one of the reasons Thranduil is not fond of them. The rings aid in protecting their lands, but he has to do it under his own power. The darker his realm becomes, the angrier he grows and people suffer for it.”

“Do you think either of them could banish the darkness in Mirkwood,” Bofur asked.

“I don’t know since I have no idea how powerful they are or what their talents could be, but I think they could help if Thranduil would stop nursing his injured pride and do the right thing for his people. I was in the forest for a short time, and you saw how it affected me. Can you imagine being sensitive to nature and hearing it scream for years on end? How a king would let his people suffer like that is beyond me.”

“It’d be like living under poisoned stone,” the hat wearing dwarf observed, making all of the dwarrow shudder in revulsion.

“You have a tie to stone as hobbits do to earth,” she questioned, eager to learn about the people she would be living with.

“We do; it’s called stone sense,” Nori shared. “No dwarf will ever get lost in a mountain simply because the stone speaks to us and guides us. The best miners have a very strong stone sense and can tell where the richest veins of ore are as well as gems.”

“Sounds very useful. I’ll have to keep one of you around until I learn my way around Erebor because I know I’ll get lost quite often. I’ve no wish to have search parties looking for me three times a week,” Hawthorn commented, smiling at the laughter from her dwarrow.

“I’ll make sure you have a guide assigned to you,” Thorin told her, chuckling as he did so. “You’ll need a shield-maiden as well as your ladies-in-waiting and a scribe.”

“Shield-maiden? Like the women of Rohan,” she asked, remembering the stories she’d read of the warrior women.

“Aye, lass, exactly like them,” Dwalin answered, not surprised by her making that comparison. “Only sensible country out of a group of nations run by men. They make sure their women are trained in warfare, even if most of them never see combat. Our bairns are trained when they’re old enough to start learning to evade and tactics. Most won’t join the guard or military force, but every dwarrow is able to fight properly to defend home and king.”

“Sounds reasonable even if I dislike the idea of little ones learning to fight,” Hawthorn replied, leaning back into Thorin. “I’m sure you keep it as safe for them as possible since they’re so young?”

“Oh aye, they don’t even pick up weapons for several years,” Gloin reassured her. “Tactics, strength building, endurance, and hand to hand combat are taught first until the healers say they’ve reached a point where weapons training won’t cause any harm to their growth. Our bairns are the greatest treasure Mahal has granted us, and we would never see a little one come to harm.”

“We’re protective of our fauntlings as well,” the hobbit shared. “It’s not unusual to see an adult feeding a group of them at mealtimes, even if they’re not related. Fauntlings are taught to hide, climb, and are taught games to improve hand and eye coordination. After that, if someone wishes to join the Bounders, they are given some weapons training to help protect the land. The Tooks and Brandybucks are the ones who typically oversee that form of training. Slingshots and archery are the weapons that are taught since hobbit eyesight is fairly good at long distances. Fighting with clubs is taught too, but I’ve never seen any of them used by hobbits.

“To be honest, the only thing the Bounders usually have to handle is the occasional drunkard who has misplaced his home or a light argument over boundaries or gardens. I don’t think any of them have had to use their training since the Fell Winter. Before that, there’s word that an archery troop was sent when the King of Arnor called for aid centuries ago but I’ve seen nothing in records to support that legend.”

“Men tend to overlook the smaller people,” Ori commented. “It’s possible they were there but were forgotten about when the historians wrote down the accounts.”

“Possibly,” she answered. “We’re easy to overlook by the Big Folk and sometimes dwarrow too.”

“Not anymore,” Fili told her. “Not when we’ve got the best hobbit of the group and are happy to keep her. You’ll be in our historical records for being the burglar who not only stole the heart of our king but burgled the king’s company away from the elf king.”

Thorin chuckled at his heir’s words, smiling when the group agreed with the fair haired dwarf. He was pleased with their acceptance of his One, and he couldn’t wait for Dis to meet her.

The conversations soon turned into a chance to share stories, and Hawthorn willingly shared accounts she’d read while in Imladris. Surprisingly, she knew several tales of dwarven heroes and eagerly listened to the versions the company knew. The sharing of stories went on as dinner was eaten and dried clothes were donned.

The monarch eventually sent most of them to bed, setting a watch for the night. His heart was gladdened to see their spirits climbing once again, and he quietly thanked Mahal and Yavanna for blessing him with such loyal companions and an amazing One.

Author’s End Note – And we’re out of Mirkwood! Next stop, Laketown. Thanks for reading; please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I will see everyone next week. Happy New Year! ~ Laran
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Mending the Broken Pieces