- Dwalïn ! Please come over here and look at this !

The warrior hastily strode towards Fraïn who suddenly stretched out his arm to stop him in his tracks :

- Watch out where you're walking !

Squinting through the flurries of snow which were swirling even more, Dwalïn finally saw it : the black and sinuous mouth of a crack which split the white snowy blanket. With this weather, one almost had to be about to walk on it in order to see it. Dwalïn felt extremely cold, but it had nothing to do with the weather conditions. Looking at his companion, he raucously asked :

- Do you think that…?

- Look at that, Fraïn answered.

He indicated three scorched torches which were still smoking faintly and were planted around the edge of the pit. In that place, the fresh layer of snow was thinner, which proved that the bottom layer had been trampled for a long time. Moreover, tracks were still partially visible, though they were disappearing rather quickly.

- Someone came here before us, Fraïn decided tersely. Now come and look what we've found there.

He led him towards a small group of pines which grew a few meters away from there, away from the hardwoods as if they despised their company. There, a big tuft of stiff hair was stuck on the rough bark of one of the trees.

- Wargs. One at least. Maybe that of the orc you've met.

The words of the latter were reminded to Dwalïn, who was feeling colder and colder :

- You won't find them... you won't even find their corpses !

But it was impossible to go check the bottom of the abyss – the orcs had thrown the now useless chain into it, and the dwarves were not adequately equipped to go down there. However, among them there were enough experimented trackers who, despite the dreadful weather conditions, were able to broadly piece together what had happened. After a fashion, they were lucky – it had been 15 to 20 minutes, not more, since the orcs had left with their prisoners. In lowlands, this short period of time would have been enough to erase all the tracks but, very fortunately, in the undergrowth the snow reaches the ground more slowly.

To be sure, the dwarves had no certainty concerning those they were looking for – they shouted themselves hoarse for a long time over the treacherous crevasse, calling Thorïn and Kili in every possible way, but of course they heard no answer. But, at the very least, the orcs would supply them with the necessary information. Even without it, the Dwarven people would not allow this intrusion on their lands to pass, even less so since the orcs were undoubtedly connected to the disappearance of their leader and his nephew in one way or another. They had to chase them, to make them confess what they knew and then avenge the insult. Preferably in their blood.

Well, that was the theory.

The purpose to which they all aspired.

But in fact…

- We'll never catch up with wargs, Fraïn objected.

He seemed ready to give up. Not by cowardice or disloyalty, but because he was sure that it all was to no avail. The dwarves looked at each other hesitatingly, some still perplexed by the action to be taken; others, as Dwalïn, were as determined as mastiffs which never let go, no matter what. That was when a female voice was raised in the storm :

- Go back home to warm yourselves up if you like, you cowards ! Abandon your king, you're free to do it ! I shall go after them, alone if needed !

They all turned their heads. Gusts of wind mercilessly twisted the flames of the torches, which only gave off a vague and swaying light, but the dwarves, people of the earth, are used to diffuse light. They all saw her, superb, pale and hurt in her heart but irrevocably determined. No force in the world could ever break the children of Durïn's decision when it was made.

And Dis, princess of Erebor, was one of them.

Warmly wrapped in fur, armed as a Valkyrie, proud and sitting up straight on her pony which snorted sadly in the storm, she was looking down on them.

Dis had remained impassive when Dwalïn had quickly summarized her the situation and informed her of his intentions – they were going after the orcs in full force, she shouldn't worry about anything, they would find them, he swore it !

Dis had taken Fili… and had entrusted him to a reliable friend of hers who had turned a deaf ear to the young boy's pleas about absolutely wanting to accompany his mother. Alone, after having carefully dressed and equipped herself, she had mounted her pony and gone in search of Dwalïn and his troop, who had left half an hour earlier.

She felt her mother's heart howling infinitely more loudly than the winter wind which was wrapping her in its stormy gusts. Her child, her little baby was there somewhere, in this unfriendly night, left to who knows what dangers.

This is the kind of situation that transforms even the gentlest woman into a bloodthirsty tigress. Nothing can stop a mother who fears for her child's life. Of course, Dis was also worried about her brother – all the hardships endured by the people of Erebor and the loss of so many loved ones had united them. They had found comfort and assistance in each other. More than that, they had found the strength to continue as best they could, despite the cruelty that fate seemed to be determined to inflict on them.

After his brother-in-law's death, Thorïn had taken both orphans under his wing. They loved and revered him, and Dis, who knew her grumpy brother very well, was perfectly aware that he would have given every last drop of his blood for those children, without a second thought.

But in this dark hour, her main thought was of her little Kili. So young, so vulnerable and already facing the hostile forces of the world.

A big silence followed the princess' words. Then, Dwalïn silently lifted his battle-axe on his shoulder and came to stand beside her.

- Nobody's obliged to come, he grumbled.

Nevertheless, a good fifteen of them eventually joined them. They did not wait any longer and disappeared into the storm, leaving the others behind to deal with their indecision, their false reasons and maybe, soon, their remorse.

Resolute and silent, they sank into the worst of the storm. Nothing could make them give up. Even if they had to walk across all of Middle-Earth, they would make it to the end of the journey and would make their enemies pay for all they had done.

Thus are the dwarves when they have made a decision.

Stone heads, they pursue their purpose to its end in spite of everything, and nothing can divert them from it. When it's time to fight, when the fire of the battle kindles their veins, they show as much relentlessness as violence and savagery.

That is why the legend claims that when the dwarves go to war, the Earth itself starts to shake.

OOoOO

His wrists chained, Thorïn had been forced to follow on foot. And that was fine, because, for nothing in the world, he would have accepted to get stained by the touch of a warg – neither for him, nor for Kili.

Kili ! For the moment, the little boy was his only concern. Very quickly, the child had worn himself out having to walk through the high snow. Without a word, and with some difficulties because of his hindered wrists, Thorïn had lifted him and held the boy against himself. His coat had remained open ; here again, with a number of difficulties, he succeeded in pulling a fold over the little boy, who was huddled against his chest and had his legs wrapped around his waist. Thorïn felt him shivering with cold and mentally cursed the orcs, while, as time went by, his arms and shoulders were getting stiff under the weight of the child and his fingers, which were holding the coat... oh, he did not even remember that he had fingers, in fact !

Actually, even without that, he was seriously getting tired. The snow which was still falling thick was piling up in an increasingly higher blanket and was beginning to shape snowdrifts. A dwarf's legs are not those of a warg and Thorïn was seriously struggling. That being so, he would have preferred to die rather than to admit it ! With clenched teeth, and feeling the cold progressively numb him too – he had not felt his hands for a long time and his face, exposed to the icy wind, felt like it had become a mask of frozen wood – he set all his will and pride against his fatigue : he would not give these stinking beasts the satisfaction of seeing him lose heart !

As the hours went by, in order to occupy his thoughts and to keep up his strength, he went over the same thing again and again: no matter what these vile creatures had in mind and the place they were going to, Kili and himself were just living on borrowed time, they really had to escape.

Finally, just before dawn, the orcs decided to take a break. Under the thick canopy of a forest of fir trees, where only a few traces of snow, here and there, had managed to fall through the green branches, they stopped, gathered their mounts together on the side and set up a small and quick fire to hastily cook some pieces of meat picked out of their saddlebags.

They did not offer any of it to the prisoners and Thorïn, sitting with his back against a rough trunk, was too proud to stoop to beg for anything. Nevertheless, his stomach twisted from hunger at the smell of the meat exposed to the flames and Kili, his sweet little face nested in his uncle's neck, started to whine.

- I'm hungry, Thorïn, he murmured. I'm very hungry. And I'm thirsty too. And also, I'm cold.

- Be brave, Kili, Thorïn whispered back. They will have to feed us if they want to keep us alive.

The kid moved away from him, stepped back a little and stood gravely in front of him :

- I wouldn't want what they eat ! he declared, with all the contempt and the seriousness he was capable of. Fili claims that they eat warg poop ! Yuk !

Thorïn burst out laughing despite himself and regretted he could not press the child against his heart. Just steps away from there, the orcs were looking at him suspiciously, but he did not pay them the slightest attention.

- My little prince... he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

His surges of affection were very rare. Kili thus valued this one and nimbly came back to cuddle up to him.

- Dwalïn, Fili and the others are going to come, right ? he whispered in his uncle's ear.

- Yes, Kili, Thorïn answered instinctively, though he was no longer sure of anything.

Anyway, he reckoned, better not count on an outside help and fend for themselves alone. Except that, it seemed complicated to just run away – even if he could sneak away from the orcs, on foot in the storm and carrying Kili, he would not go far. In fact, he would not go anywhere, especially not with five orcs riding wargs hot on his heels.

His reflections were interrupted by one of his enemies who was shuffling towards him.

- What are you laughing at, dwarf ? he asked unpleasantly, scrutinising every detail of the picture formed by the child resting against his uncle, his face buried in his clothes and his hair soaked with snow, in search of a wrong detail.

Thorïn looked him up and down and did not answer.

Worried, the orc quickly verified their bonds, once again made sure that they were not hiding any weapon and then left while glaring at them.

His companions appeared to be quarrelling : some of them wanted to set off again, arguing that they had to leave the Blue Mountains as soon as possible. Others protested that they had ridden long enough under the snow and that a few hours rest would be welcome.

True, the wind continued to blow big swirling snowflakes in all directions. Finally, the leader of the troop barked, more than anything else, that they would rest for two hours, not more, until broad daylight, and then they would get back on the road.

He appointed one of them to keep watch on their camp and their prisoners, making the appointed orc look glum. And, before winding himself in a shabby blanket next to the thin fire which they had built, he glanced sceptically at the dwarves and gave some orders in his language. Muttering curses under his breath, one of his henchmen went to search through one of the soaked satchels abandoned on the ground. He appeared to search for a long time, then eventually found a small dented can of an undefined colour, threw in it something that he pulled out of the bottom of the bag and finally, added a handful of snow over it.

Putting the can on the ground, he appeared to search for something more, eventually exhumed what looked like an old leather strap wound on itself and finally, all these treasures in hands, he approached the prisoners. Thorïn instinctively straightened up, his muscles flexed, disturbing Kili who despite the cold and the hunger was more or less slumbering, leaning against him.

- Move away, brat, the orc grumbled.

- What do you want with him ? Thorïn snarled.

- I must tie you both. We don't want you try to run away during our break... You should be happy, dwarf : I brought you something to eat !

He indicated the can he was holding. Thorïn preferred to ignore what it contained !

Kili, now fully awake, looked the orc up and down trying to imitate his uncle's expression when he looked down on someone :

- I don't want it ! he said categorically.

It was heroic for a child of his age, starved and numbed. But their enemy simply shrugged.

- Well then, you can starve to death ! he answered. Now, come over here.

Despite himself, he took a step back and pulled out his dagger when Thorïn straightened up once more, as if he was going to get back on his feet.

- The boy isn't going anywhere ! he claimed, with a voice that admitted no reply.

Reluctantly – it was not in Thorïn Oakenshield's nature to negotiate – he added :

- Otherwise, he's going to die of cold !

The orc seemed to hesitate, and finally shrugged. He bent down and dug his dagger in the ground before tying Thorïn around the middle of his body to the trunk of the tree. Then he finished his work by fastening his leather strap around Kili's ankle.

- We'll keep an eye on you, anyway ! he finally said, retrieving his dagger and moving away to lie down with his companions.

Once he was sure that he was no longer posing an immediate threat, Thorïn lowered a disgusted eye on the can that remained within his shackled grasp. A handful of... – of what ? – was softening in the melted snow.

Dreadful. If it were up to him, he would have ignored it completely, only regretting that he was not able to throw it at one of these degraded creatures' face. But Kili had to feed himself, if only to fight against the cold. The idea displeased him but necessity knows no law, right ?

- Kili, he began slowly, you must keep up your strength. You should try to eat a little.

The kid looked at him quizzically, as if he was not sure that he had understood properly. His uncle encouraged him with a nod.

- What is it ? Kili suspiciously asked.

- No idea, Thorïn sincerely answered. But it's not warg poop. I don't think.

Reluctantly, the little boy picked up the can, frowned at its contents, dipped a finger in it and raised it to his face before making a horrible grimace.

- It stinks ! he exclaimed.

- Watch your language ! Thorïn scolded. Is this how your mother's brought you up ?!

- But, uncle ! Smell it and you'll see !

He brandished his little finger towards Thorïn's face. And the latter moved back.

- It's orc food, he answered. It can only be dreadful. But still, watch your language, young imp !

He added with a softened voice :

- Try to eat a little of it. I'm afraid we have to content ourselves with that for the moment.

Kili licked his finger covered with a brownish liquid and grimaced.

- It's disgusting !

However, he was so hungry that he managed to force himself to swallow a small quantity of these unknown, hard and unpalatable things that were hardly softening in the juice forming at the bottom of the can as the snow was melting into water.

- What about you ? he asked finally.

- I'm not hungry, Thorïn lied.

That was when he saw it. The light of the dying fire was dimly playing on the tarnished blade. There, just a few steps away, on a layer of pine needles that covered the ground : the orc must have badly replaced his dagger to his belt and the weapon had fallen again on the ground without his knowledge.

Let's not be fooled – it definitely was, the Dwarven prince understood it at once, the only chance they would ever have, because chance never comes twice.

With one look, he gauged the distance : 5 or 6 steps. Tied to the trunk of the pine, he could not hope to reach it by himself. He felt reluctant to put his nephew at risk, but he had no choice. It was also important to act at the right time, neither too early, nor too late. Thorïn thus waited until the orcs appeared to have fallen asleep. The one who was standing guard frequently looked their way. The Dwarven prince lowered his head on his chest, pretending to be asleep.

As for Kili, he had left his poor meal and, trying to restore a little of the heat in his fragile limbs, snuggled up closely to his uncle whose soaked clothes unfortunately did not really offer any comfort.

The minutes passed, unbearably slow. The orc standing guard slowly relaxed his vigilance and, sat in front of the fire, seemed to progressively indulge in a kind of drowsiness.

Very carefully, Thorïn gently shook Kili who groaned a little and raised an eye towards him.

With a very discreet tilt of his head, Thorïn indicated the abandoned weapon on the ground. The boy scanned the place for a moment without finding what his uncle wanted him to see. But he eventually caught sight of the metallic reflection and understood.

He wanted to stand up. A hand on his shoulder prevented him from it. The fingers, stiffened by the cold, barely moved as if to mean : "very quietly".

So, the boy, like a small wild animal, very carefully and without getting back on his feet, crawled on all fours towards his purpose, flattening himself on the ground at the slightest movement or sigh.

It was really absurd in their situation but, watching him, Thorïn felt his heart swelling with tenderness and pride. He immediately snapped out of it – this was not the time to become sentimental !

The orc guard barely moved anymore. Sometimes, he straightened himself and moved a little, as if he was trying to ward off sleep which wanted to overtake him, sneakily, but most of the time, he remained motionless, staring at the fire.

Finally, the child's small hand closed around the handle of the dagger. Then, slowly and carefully, he retreated backward, so as to return to his starting point.

The rest of it was just a game. Without changing position, Thorïn wrapped his arms around the child, as if he was trying to warm him, and bent towards his ear :

- Stay here, he murmured very quietly. And if things go wrong, run. Do you understand ?

- Where are you going ?

- Have you understood what I said ?

- Yes, but...

- Kili, at the slightest trouble, I want you to run very fast and without ever looking back. I want you to promise me that.

- But...

- Promise me !

- I promise you, the child stammered, frightened.

Then, centimetre after centimetre, Thorïn slipped behind the trunk of the pine. There only, with the dagger in his hand, he stood up and stealthily described a circle from trunk to trunk, in order to find himself behind the orc guard. Discretion is not the strong point of dwarves, nevertheless, he managed to get close enough to carry out his plan. Two silent leaps and everything was finished almost before it begun : gagged by an iron hand, the orc had his throat slit without even realising what was happening to him.

OOoOO

Much invective was heard in the ranks of the dwarves. They were in a bad mood and, in accordance with their nature, they heartily expressed it – they groused about the snow, about the North wind, about the night, about the winter, about the orcs… Since their departure, many things had contributed to their displeasure ; they were spoilt for choice.

Even their ponies appeared to get in tune with them, shaking their ears and snorting in the icy wind. For their part, they did not stop and it turned out well for them – their ponies made them gain what ground the orcs had lost because their prisoners had been on foot. A grey and dirty dawn was painfully breaking when they saw a wood of fir trees ahead of them. It was still dark and they may have walked by without realising that those they were looking for were just there, if a peculiar, recognizable in all languages clamour had not suddenly reached their freezing ears : the clamour of the battle and the sound of clashing weapons.

Dwalïn, who was leading the way with Dis, raised his hand to stop the group and sat up straight on his saddle, narrowing his eyes in the flurries of snow, trying to locate the exact place where the noise was coming from. He saw nothing at first. Then, he blinked to make sure that he was not suffering an optical illusion – a tiny silhouette had just emerged from the cover of the fir trees, his brown hair flying in the wind. Almost as soon as he was out of the protection of the trees, the thick layer of snow considerably slowed him down. The small creature sometimes sank higher than his knees and looked like a paddling puppy. As he was laboriously trying to make his way through the snow, the big silhouette of an orc emerged in his turn from the cover of the trees and rushed after the dwarf child. When he reached him, he yelled something that the wind muffled. He stretched his hand to seize the fugitive, and then two things happened simultaneously : Kili threw himself on this hand with a challenging cry and bit it as hard as he could. The orc groaned in pain and lifted his other arm, ready to strike. But at the same time, an arrow sank into his breast. He staggered, and looked at the projectile coming out of his clothes without understanding, then collapsed in a cloud of powdery. Sat up straight on her saddle, Dis still held her bow at the ready.

It had been a difficult shot because of the wind and the snow, but the princess had always been very dexterous with a bow ; being the only girl of her siblings, she had always considered that, because her brothers were stronger than her, she had to outmatch them in dexterity.

Her pony quickly crossed the distance that separated her from Kili, and one moment later, she was passionately holding her younger son in her arms.

For their part, Dwalïn and the others tried to force their exhausted mounts to quicken their pace : Kili's presence made the noise of the fight absolutely clear !

Everything had gone wrong as Thorïn, after having cut the orc guard's throat, had bent down to pick up his sword. No matter how quietly he had done it, the characteristic sound of the blade sliding out of its sheath had instantly alerted his enemies, who had wasted no time in pushing their covers away and throwing themselves on him.

Four against one is still much. Especially when your fingers are so stiff and freezing that you can't hold a weapon properly. Nevertheless, Thorïn managed to place himself between his nephew and the orcs and tried his best to hold them at bay, hoping that the kid would take advantage of this to run away, as he had recommended to him. He did not dare to make sure of it – he had to pay close attention to the fight – or shout at the child to go away, for fear of bringing upon him the attention of his opponents.

In fact, Kili was a bit late to act. He was staring, as hypnotized, at his uncle who was standing up to the orcs in the light of the fire, and remembered only after a few moments that he had promised him to run. However, unable to avert his eyes, he had started to take a few steps back, but he had stumbled over a root and had fallen on his buttocks. Getting back on his feet, he had finally turned around and run off. The orc leader saw him.

- Catch him ! he ordered to one of his henchmen.

The latter thus broke the engagement, got around Thorïn and rushed after Kili. The Dwarven prince had missed nothing of all this and, for the first time in his life, he knew what fear was, the real fear : he knew that the orc would catch the child, what he did not know was what he would do then. Would he try to bring him back or... ? He had to rush to his rescue without delay. With a growing fury, he swirled his weapon and, roaring with rage, threw himself on his enemies.

He had only two opponents left, and they were as fierce as him, when Dwalïn and the others appeared. From there, everything ended in an instant.

Panting, Thorïn looked at his friend :

- Kili ?

Dwalïn nodded :

- Out of danger, he laconically answered.

- And Fili ?

- Same.

A few metres away from there, the dwarves were taking it out on the wargs – these creatures fill them with the deepest disgust and an almost irrational hatred, especially as, since the taking of the Moria by Azog the Defiler, horrible stories of dwarf children thrown to the mercy of these monstrous beasts have been told among them.

- What happened ? Dwalïn finally asked.

- It's a long story.

Against all expectations, the warrior smiled and gave Thorïn a strong friendly pat on the back.

- Well, we're going to make a good fire and you'll tell us everything.

- I'd rather... Thorïn began.

But he changed his mind – a few hours of real rest in the heat of the fire would not harm anybody. All the faces around him were reddened by the cold. Besides, the snow would undoubtedly stop falling by the middle of the day and then it would be infinitely more pleasant to ride than in these swirls of snow.

So he nodded in agreement.

Still, he thought, to say that they had left the previous morning for a simple hunting trip with the children, in other words a healthy walk… and although everything turned out for the best, this was a "walk" he would never forget !

THE END