Iron and Oak

Chapter Thirteen

They stood atop the wall together, keeping to the shadows on the western edge of the old doorway. They watched the three armies now splitting and disappearing into the scrub and boulders on the East and West spurs of the Lonely Mountain. A cold north wind stung their cheeks, the smell of ice and rain in the air. The black cloud from the north darkening the sky above them. Roac had bought them word of the battle plan being put in motion below them. And their plan to join was made, though some of the dwarves chafed at the decision to wait inside the mountain to maximize the impact of their attack. Esja looked up at Thorin, his gleaming armor and serious visage eliciting a mix of appreciation and apprehension in her.  

They stood just under the entrance to the alcove she had so often taken refuge in over the past week. Beyond them in the vale, Bard set his grim vanguard to their position just beyond the pool of water. Thorin's voice drew her attention from the scene before her.  

"Once you get to the ground," he was saying, " and you are around the pool, I want you to cut straight east, well ahead of that skirmish line. Any of Dain's soldiers will be able to tell you where to find him." Thorin grasped her shoulders and turned her to look into his face, "You move swiftly and go straight there, do you understand me?" 

Esja nodded, and he hugged her to his chest, his face in her hair. She closed her eyes and immersed herself in his scent, her chin trembling. He let her go and stepped back a half step. She reached up and slid her cold fingers through the soft beard on his jaw, winding his braid slowly around her finger. He stood still under her hand, his arms stiffly at his side. Looking down, she saw his clenched fists and let his braid slip from her grasp. She started to turn to the ladder, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. As she turned back to him, he slipped the mithril veil from her face. 

"I don't want you to draw any more attention than necessary," he said, and she nodded as he tucked her long braid into her coat and pulled up her hood. He slid her veil inside his coat. She turned back to the ladder and climbed down the first couple of rungs as he knelt and steadied it.  

When she reached the sixth rung, she looked up into his face, feeling her eyes fill and her throat tighten at the sight of his similar reaction. She reached a hand up and brushed her fingers over his where they held at the first rung, securing the ladder.  

"I love you," she paused as he grasped her fingers and brought them to his lips. Inclining her head to him, she then quickly climbed down off the ladder and, reaching the ground, headed up the narrow path around the lake at a steady jog.  

Thorin pulled the ladder up and tossed it aside, calling behind him, "BALIN! I need you up here."  

Keeping his eyes on her retreating form as he waited for Balin to reach him, he rubbed a hand across his mouth and beard. He was glad he had insisted she dress in the grey and brown coat and trousers, she was difficult to spot against the mountain, and he knew exactly where to look. She was about halfway along the side of the lake when Balin appeared beside him. 

A little out of breath, he scanned the narrow trail above the west side of the lake, "Ah, there she is. I see her.  Though if she stood still, I would be hard-pressed to find her," he said.  

Thorin nodded, swallowing his fear for her, his eyes never leaving her form, though he knew that shortly he would not be able to see her anymore. That was why Balin was here. He had the sharpest eyes of any in the company, and Thorin wanted to know when she reached the Iron Hill army, for his own peace of mind.  

"She has reached the far edge of the lake," he said.  

"Yes," said Balin. 

"I told her to stay close to the lake and not get too near the skirmish line."