A distant light 5/?

[valandhir]

This is a work of non-profit fan fiction using characters from the Hobbit/Lord of the Rings  world, which is trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien.Both Boromir and Kili are characters created and owned by Tolkien INC, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Middle Earth. The story I tell here about Boromir and Kili is my own invention, and it is not purported or  believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to J.R.R. Tolkien for his wonderful stories about Middle Earth, for without his books, my story would not exist.

Author’s note: The basic idea for the settlements began with the destroyed farm in the Hobbit movie and with Gandalf’s mention of villages in the same land during the council scene. I too never imagined all the lone lands to be totally uninhabited and thus went with the idea that there are still people living there, if they can manage to survive the dangers of that land.

Thanks to all who have reviewed so far! You rock!

Chapter 4: A friend’s help

With two strokes of his mighty axe Kili cut through the beams still supporting the roof collapsing the failing rooftop on the building. The only grave he could give Bran, the only grave pressing time would permit. Ashes flared up when the building collapsed, but Kili paid it no heed. He picked up his pack and set off west, where the path to Archet wound through the vale’s. He did not follow it but chose the shorter if harder route uphill.

Boromir followed him swiftly. He did not know where Kili was going but did not ask. He had seen the expression in Kili’s face when the word “Baggins” was mentioned. He had no idea what a Baggins was – a thing, a creature, maybe a place even. But he had recognized the fear in Kili’s eyes. It was a well familiar fear when someone suddenly realized someone or someplace close was in danger from the enemy. Under almost any other circumstances he would have asked his companion for directions to continue to Rivendell and given his own quest priority. But not now. For one he owed Kili his life for the rescue in the caves and on the other… the burned village still haunted his mind. This land was wild, there was no one, no king nor steward to send troops to drive of the pillaging orcs, there was no city to flee to or find aid at. These people were standing on their own, on what little strength they could muster and Boromir felt compelled of at least not allowing more harm to come of this.

As the day wore on Kili did not slow down the least. Boromir had believed that the dwarf had been marching at quick speed before but now Kili truly made haste and seemed to know little exhaustion. Only when night fell Boromir began to guess why. They had reached another hill dale like so many others they had crossed before. But this too held a settlement. Small though it was it held a number of low sturdy stone buildings and some other buildings that reminded him of a crushing mill. He spotted a dark hole in the hillside. A mine!

When they came down the hillside towards where a path led past the two outermost buildings into the settlement itself; they were suddenly cut off by two small armed figures. They were not quite five foot tall, axes in hand. Their bearded faces and thick hair left little doubt of what kind they were and for a moment they looked at all ready to cut them down on the spot. But they relaxed visibly when they saw Boromir’s companion. “Kili.” One spoke in a deep gravelly voice. “it is good to see you.”

“Nari, well met indeed.” Kili greeted the other dwarf, he clearly knew these people. “I wish I were bringing less grim tidings. Watchhill was burned by Orcs only last night. I need to speak to Bofur right away.”

“So that’s why you travel with a ranger,” Nari observed grimly. “go down to his house, I’ll send word for him. He may still be downhole.”

“Thank you, Nari. And be on your guard – these Orcs were searching for something.”

They headed down into the settlement. Boromir paid close attention what he saw as they passed through. Grey field stones had been used to pave the main ways of the village and all buildings were built from the same grey stone material. The houses were not beautiful, not even nice, but they were sturdy, thickwalled, with stone roofs and small windows. They had been built with defense in mind. Other buildings belonged clearly to the settlement’s operation. He saw a mine, crushing mill, a smeltery, he could see the tip was on the other side of the dale. “A copper mine?” he asked seeing some of the material at the crushing mill.

“Iron mostly,” Kili replied.

It made sense, most iron mines had a fair chance to prosper as iron was always in demand. While they walked Boromir could not help to notice the many different dwarves he spotted at work all around. There must be a good thirty or forty of them and only very few looked the drawings he recalled from Faramir’s books. None looked quite like Kili either. They all seemed to have propensity for hair though – thick, wild, sometimes braided, mingling with long beards. Most of them conversed in a language Boromir did not understand, dwarven speech he concluded.

When they reached the quarter stone houses that seemed to be the miner’s homes another dwarf came rushing at them. He was nearly five foot high and whore a remarkable grey moustache. His hair must have been dark once but now was all grey. “Kili!” He called out as he reached them.

Both dwarves greeted with a hug. “Kili,” the new arrival repeated. “I… you get more similar with your Uncle with every passing year.” he clasped Kili’s shoulder. “a bit of fur here and you’d look much like him. When I just saw you stride in here I could have sworn it was him.”

Kili’s smile was a soft one, holding past fondness and sadness as well. “Dwalin said the same once, Bofur.” He said. “I wish I was just here to talk of old times.”

“Nari’s message said there was trouble afoot,” Bofur said. “but who’s your companion, a Ranger?”

“No, he is Boromir of Gondor, who is on his way to Imladris.”

The dwarf bowed deeply. “Bofur at your service.”

Boromir recalled Kili having done the same at their first meeting, so it had to be some kind of dwarven politeness. “And yours,” he replied with a light bow of his own.

It seemed to satisfy propriety because Bofur’s attention shifted back to Kili. “What happened? Nari said something about Watchhill.”

“It was burned by Orcs last night, Bofur. They left no one alive. Their leader – a rider upon a black horse – is searching for Baggins.” Kili quickly recounted all they had found in the burned village.

“Baggins… oh no.” It was clear to Boromir that this dwarf too knew that word. Could it be a Dwarven name? Or maybe some kind of Dwarven homestead? “Do you know why?”

“No. Bran told me what he could before he died. It was not more than what I just shared.”

Bofur’s face set in a determined expression. “You will need a fast horse and someone to bring your friend to Rivendell. I’ll send my son with him, Bladvila knows the way.” He announced.

Now Boromir understood why Kili had headed here so fast. It was for help and for keeping his word to Boromir. “There will be no need of that,” he spoke up. “I will go with Kili and help to thwart whatever these Orcs are planning.”

Now both dwarves looked at him surprise. “Kili’s kin always claimed the people of Gondor were a proud and noble kind,” Bofur stated when Kili did not react at once. “they were right. Do you dare to stay for the night or will you press on?”

“I’d be most grateful for a place to sleep for a few hours, Bofur before we head on.” Kili told him. “We have had little rest these last days.”

“My home is yours, Kili. Come on in.” Bofur gestured them to follow him towards one of the small compact buildings that obviously was his home. It was no different from all the other buildings around, nothing indicating that the leader of this settlement lived there, Boromir noted.

They sat by the fire in Bofur’s home, the soup and bread had been good as was the warmth of the fireplace. “Baggins…” Bofur said softly, shaking his head. “after all these years. I still don’t understand it, Kili. Halflings keep to themselves. Bilbo was the great exception to come with us and… why would the Orcs hunt him now? Of all who were there the day Azog fell – they certainly came for you and I am sure they tried Dwalin a few times… but Bilbo?”

“So Baggins is a person?” Boromir asked, when Kili did not respond directly to Bofur’s words. It was easy enough to tell that Kili was worried, truly worried. So Baggins was a name and he might know the person attached to it. Any person being hunted by Orcs and someone able to command Orcs was someone to be worried for, Boromir agreed.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bofur confirmed. “he came with us to the Lonely Mountain when Thorin led us back there. Bilbo was a burglar an expert treasure hunter, our Hobbit.” The last words were spoken with a great deal of warmth and fondness. 

“A Halfling,” Kili provided seeing Boromir’s confusion at the word “Hobbit.”

This made Boromir sit up straight all tiredness gone. He had heard that word before, in the dream Faramir had related to him, the very dream that had send him on the search for Imladris.

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

He did not know what those words meant but suddenly he was sure that all of this was no coincidence. Somehow a Halfling was tied into the prophetic dream of Boromir’s brother and somehow now one of them was hunted by the servants of the enemy. There could be no doubt. Still, he had no clue was a Hobbit actually was. “A Halfling?” Boromir therefore asked. Not even Faramir had been able to make much sense of the word, except linking it to a fairy tale from Rohan. “Like Holbytla? The hill people from Rohan’s fairy tales?”

“They are hill dwellers, true but fairy tales they are not. They live to the west, south of the Ered Luin.” Bofur provided. “they are farmers, gardeners and as kind and as peaceful a people as you’ll find left in this world. They also can be exceptionally brave. Bilbo saved our hides a few times, freed us from the dungeons in Mirkwood, scouted a dragon’s lair…”

“And he saved my life after the Battle of the Five Armies. I was only found so quickly thanks to him.” Kili added, interrupting Bofur’s flow of words.

It was easy to see that there was a whole tale about that, Boromir wished they had more time and less pressing needs at hand so he could hear it. “What made him come with you?” he asked. “If he was no dwarf he would not have held any loyalty to your kingdom, did he?”

“No.” Bofur said. “but you see, Thorin had agreed to let Gandalf chose the fourteenth member of our company. And he chose Bilbo.”

It was not the mention of the wizard that made Boromir frown. “Wait – you went with barely more than a dozen men to reclaim a kingdom and to face down a dragon? That is brave beyond imagining. But… why then do you still live here in the west?”

Suddenly Bofur seemed uneasy. “That’s a long story Boromir and you will want to ride by first light.” He said. “I can’t offer you much more than a place before the fire to sleep, but you will want any rest you can get. Kili…”

“I’ll do just fine down here as well, Bofur.” Kili said, forestalling any offer of taking the only bedchamber available in the small house. “a place before the fire is more comfortable than many a camp in the wilds.”

It was still dark when Boromir heard the steps approaching. By the sounds it was Bofur even as dawn should at least be another two hours away. “Kili,” Bofur slightly shook Kili by the shoulder. “Kili… wake up. Something is going on.”

Kili sat up, grabbing his sword. “Attackers?” He asked softly, at once ready to fight.

“No, but Bladvila just alerted me that something strange is happening south. You should come see.” Bofur held a small shielded lamp in one hand and his mining hammer in the other. He led them outside and up the stairs outside another home which stood somewhat elevated and served as a lookout post.

Standing atop the sturdy stone platform Bofur pointed south where lightning was ripping apart the night sky. At first one might easily be fooled to think of it as a late autumn thunderstorm but Boromir quickly noticed that it was too localized. The lightning occurred only in one spot as did other lights. “That must be Weathertop,” Kili observed.

“Aye, I was thinking the same,” Bofur agreed. “but what does it mean Kili? It’s not a storm nor is it firelight.”

“They searched for Baggins on the Archet road,” Boromir said slowly, putting together the disjointed pieces of information like he was working out what the reported enemy movements meant. “you said Archet was to the southwest of us. What if Baggins – or whatever they believe for Baggins – gave them slip and headed straight west instead of northwest? And now they are back on their trail?”

The two dwarves exchanged a glance and there was little doubt they both agreed. They hurried down the stairs again and Bofur already send someone to wake his son to have the horses readied. Kili went back to the house to quickly gather up their packs. Boromir saw Bofur still stare south, hand on his huge mining hammer. “Tis’ like a storm is brewing,” the dwarf said in a low voice. “like soon we’ll have to put aside the tools and take up the axes again. I should have spoken to Dwalin.” He suddenly woke from his reverie and looked at Boromir, realizing he had heard. “I’m sorry…” he began.

“No,” Boromir said. “you are right. There is a darkness gathering even here and seeing your people ready for it is more than prudent a thought.” He did not know what else to say. At least the Orcs would not find easy pickings in this settlement.