The Halls of Erebor

The Misty Mountians

Sitting up, she glanced out into the open landscape. A clear sky helped the sun cast a warm glow over them, but the harsh winds remained. The constant howl of air gliding through the jagged rocks echoed around them. Before her the sun shone making her feel warm for the first time since entering the Misty Mountains.

Noiselessly, she stepped forward to the cliff's edge, and peered down into the valley. She hoped to see a trace of iron or silver laced into the side of the rock but all she saw was a sea of plain stone, darkened in the harsh landscape. After her hope of a quick solution was dashed, she returned to Thorin and her equipment, sword and bow laying next to her bag.

As she retrieved her weapons, strapping the sword to her waist, she heard the dull thud of a boot hitting someone's body. Thorin was waking Balin and Dwalin. The still morning was immediately interrupted by Dwalin's loud groan.

Balin let out a sigh. "Lad you could just ask us to get up."

Thorin held back a soft chuckle. "The morning is growing late, let's get moving."

The day's hike over loose rock was treacherous. Thankfully the sun had dried the ground making their journey easier than previous days. Their boots were no longer slipping on wet stone and mud. Just as they had the days before they searched and searched. The morning turned into evening, the sun disappearing once more. That night they rested against a cliff, open to the elements.

Early the next day, after a few hours of hiking Dwalin had grown frustrated. "Thorin, this is useless." Dwalin called up to the Prince who was standing on a boulder in front of them.. "The only place in these lands worth anything to our people is Moria."

"Keep looking." Thorin commanded, turning back towards them. His brow was drawn into a stern line.

They kept looking at the cliff faces around them for the slightest sign of wealth. Dwalin and Balin carried some tools and would occasionally chip away at the rock. Every time a hammer struck, she and Thorin would watch hopefully. Balin's face would fall before his mouth could confirm the disappointment.

Frin didn't understand too much about mining but she knew they were looking for any sign of gems or gold. She would often sneak into empty caverns looking for a glint of anything. Often she would come out having seen nothing. One of the few times when she called for her fellow dwarves, they quickly dashed her hopes. What she had found was nothing more than a nice piece of stone or glass, nothing of value.

"Sorry Lass." Balin said walking past her out of another cavern.

"No, I shouldn't have called you." Frin sighed.

"No you shouldn't have." Thorin growled from deeper in the cavern behind her.

"I'm only doing what you asked." Frin's own frustration burst from within her.

"Use your eyes!" He pointed at the lightly coloured stone she'd thought was gold. "Does this look like gold to you!?"

"I am not a miner or a smith." She spat back at him.

"You'd be more helpful if you were." He pushed passed her towards the daylight.

Frin stood angrily frozen to the spot. He was so pig headed sometimes. Despite his vile words and her anger, she knew it couldn't be his honest opinion. He was frustrated. They all were. She suspected his anger wasn't directed towards her, she was just present when it erupted from him.

Placing a hand against the rough cavern wall, she felt the cold, the familiar chill of a mountain. It steadied her. If she closed her eyes she could imagine being back in Erebor, but as soon as the thought came the memories of the horror came with them. With a small intake of breath she marched from the cave.

They continued on, checking the stone and hidden pockets but when the last of the light dipped behind the walls of jagged stone the disappointment was heavy. Nestling themselves in between some large rocks, they attempted to get some rest. Frin kept watch as the dwarves around her fell asleep.

Soon the quiet snoring reached her ears. A home to call their own felt so close but yet they had seen nothing but disappointment. She glanced out at the darkly silhouetted mountains and wondered if she'd missed something. It was hard to stay hopeful. The silent shapes stood unmoving, almost taunting her. Perhaps they would have better luck in some other land.

Countless years before dwarves had searched these hills and they did find wealth, just not there. To the South, overrun, one of the great dwarven kingdoms abandoned by its people.

She let out a huff of frustration, leaning against the cold rock. Beside her, Thorin slept. The creases in his face and the lines in between his brows had relaxed. The young dwarf who escaped the dragon with her slept soundly, only visible in rare moments. She loved that dwarf, and was still learning about the new one she saw daily. The carefree nature, the love of fun had disappeared. She knew a part of him had never escaped the mountain. It had remained there trapped or dead.

Casting her eyes back out over the landscape, awaiting any sign of movement her mind wandered to the Mountain. Halls of golden light reflecting off of emerald walls. One day they would return. Of that she was certain, or at least she hoped. She knew Thorin would seek to retake the mountain if it was possible and she would stand with him.

The gentle snoring had disappeared, replaced by the deep steady breathing of exhausted slumber. Frin sat in the quiet and eerie stillness alone. Uncomfortable with her own noisy thoughts and guilt she started to hum a wordless tune. The melody flowed through her effortlessly. She allowed her emotions to guide the quiet of her voice as she repeated the soft melody over and over again to herself.

"What are you singing?" Balin's soft, sleepy voice asked a few hours later.

"I do not know." She shrugged. "I just started to hum and it came out. Sorry did I wake you?"

"It wasn't you Lass," he shifted, facing her. "My back is killing me. Are there words?"

"No, at least not yet."

"It's beautiful, sorrowful." The older dwarf moved to sit beside her. "Reminds me of..." He choked of his words, grief heavy in his voice.

"Home." Dwalin's whisper startled her. He was laying on his side silently watching them.

Balin nodded.

They all sat in silence for a moment before Frin started to hum again the now familiar notes. Even in the limited light she could see the glint in Balin's eye as they welled with tears at her voice. After some time had passed, Balin placed a hand on her wrist.

"Get some rest."

She silently nodded, sliding onto the hard ground. Sleep came quickly, as it had most nights in the mountains. Her body and mind were always too exhausted to protest. The dreamless sleep came and went quickly. When Balin gently rubbed her back the following morning she felt as though she'd just closed her eyes. With an agonizing stretch she gathered herself for the day. Clouds had once again covered the sun but at least it wasn't raining.

"We need to move on." Balin pleaded. "These mountains were well searched by our kin centuries ago. We won't find anything new here."

She heard Thorin's heavy footsteps pacing while she attempted to hoist her pack on to her shoulders. It felt heavier than the day before. Her tired muscles protested with every step and movement.

"I agree with Balin." Dwalin spoke. "We've done all we can here. This range is too vast and we don't have the time."

There was quiet when Frin turned towards everyone, finally ready to leave. Both brothers were awaiting Thorin's answer. The Prince stood back to them looking out over the valley, hands clasped behind his back. A morning breeze moved his hair gently. He looked like a painting. Frin could almost see it in the halls of Erebor gifted by an elven kingdom.

His head nodded as he turned toward them. "We head West."