Rider (A Kili/ Hobbit novel)

Chapter 5: Erebor

Kili's Point of View:

"Dragons!" I hear someone shout loudly, the words echoed in the mouths of others.  

I cannot help as my mind immediately pictures Smaug, somehow alive and coming to reclaim the Lonely Mountain as his own.  That would be impossible though, because Smaug was gone; he had been driven out and killed.  I remember seeing it.  I am roughly pulled from my nightmarish thoughts when new information reaches my ears.

"There are people riding on two of them!"

This sends me running to see for myself, weaving in between other dwarves moving too slowly. I run into Fili on the way, and the two of us race up the large flight of stairs that leads to outside.

"Do you think it is true?" I ask Fili, panting slightly with our speed.

"Well I mean it has to be, doesn't it?  But how could someone ride a dragon without it eating them?"

By then we had reached outside, and the three dragons were very close.  One is bronze and the other two silver, but the first thing I notice is how small they are compared to Smaug. Well, that and the fact there are two people riding each of the silver dragons.

The three dragons land gracefully, pulling up their wings like a shield around those who ride them.   They had all of us frozen in wonder.

 After a moment, a young woman leaps nimbly over the wing of the darker-toned silver dragon, a large fur hood covering her face.  She does not appear to be a dwarf, though she stands the same height as everyone that has gathered to watch the dragons approach.

She faces all of us and calls out in a loud voice. "Who among you is King under the mountain?"

Pan's Point of View:

As fly closer, I see many dwarves appear out of the mountain, pointing up in the sky at us.  I quickly grow nervous, but no one tries to shoot us down as we approach. 

"We must get medical attention immediately after we land." Kinjal says seriously as we begin our descent.

"I know. I will leave the others on the dragons in case we are forced to flee." My voice falters for a moment. "Should this end hostilly, only grab me if it does not put the others in danger." 

A deep rumble comes from Kinjal's throat. "I will tell the others to leave us, but I will stay by your side even should it mean my death."

I smile a bit to myself.  Kinjal and I had survived so much together.  I hope this is not the end. "Very well." I respond at last.

The dwarves all watch in fascination as we land, though none dare approach us. Castor and Mae's dragons bring their wings up around us as protection, feeling uneasy while surrounded by so many.

"Do not let him fall." I implore Castor's dragon, having a harder time communicating with him because we do not share a bond.

The dragon bobs its large head up and down once, and I spring over the side of his wing, landing lightly. My side protests loudly as my feet lightly touch down on the stone, shooting a sharp line of pain up and down my side.  I keep my lips firmly shut though, not even allowing the slightest whimper to escape.

As I straighten, I turn to face those that were gathered and ask, "Who among you is King under the mountain?  My companions and I have come in hope to seek his aid."  I leave my hood up, unsure if they will see me as more of a threat when the scar across my face is visible.

A brunette-haired dwarf, who looks to be about the same age as Castor and I, steps forward causing Kinjal and the silver dragons to promptly swivel their heads to watch the dwarf warily. It makes him pause in his hesitant approach. 

"Pay no mind to them.  They are only making sure you are not about to attack me." I say calmingly. "They are very tranquil creatures for the most part."

This causes the other dwarves to whisper amongst themselves, all of them looking at me with distrust evident in their eyes.  My hope sinks slightly before remembering they must think of Kinjal and the two others like Smaug; having come to take their home from them once again.

"I will take you to him." the young-looking dwarf says, though I know he is many winters older than he appears to me. I remember from Father's stories that dwarves lived to be around three hundred years old, whereas our race generally only lived as long as the race of man.

"Can-" I pause for a second, glancing back to make sure Castor has not fallen, "could the dragons come with us?  I do not wish to leave them outside. They will not attack without being goaded into it, and they will remain calm while near to their Riders." I attempt to persuade.

He nods, and I smile even though he most likely cannot see it under my hood.

"Follow me." he calls, and turns to walk back to a door cleverly concealed into the mountain.  Though the door was huge, I had not noticed it until now.  The dragons easily fit through it, not even having to line up single file to pass through the large, stone entryway.  I notice in particular a blond-headed dwarf watching us with suspicion, and the way he stands suggests he wished to come up and pull the dark-haired dwarf away from us.  I would venture to guess they are brothers. 

The dwarves part around us as I walk into the mountain behind this brunette dwarf, my companions in tow. The dragons follow at a distance behind me, a bit reluctant to enter into somewhere so confined when we are still unsure if our hosts will harm us.

Soon though this thought leaves me, for I feel a threatening presence, an ancient one that seems to lurk in the walls, wishing harm on me an my kin.