The Halls of Erebor

Hurry

Author's Note:

Hello Everyone, I realised I had some issue with publishing chapters on Wattpad. Thankfully, I have discovered the problem and have fixed it. All parts are in order and able to be read. I am so sorry for the inconvience. 

Thanks for reading!

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Frin's eyes slowly opened, revealing the canvas above her head. She was painfully aware of the cart rocking beneath her as it caused a constant stream of painful twinges. The throbbing in her head didn't help either. Every part of her ached. Everything was too much, the sound of horses, the wheels, the movement, laying on her back.

"You're awake." Thorin's tenor was a gentle sound bringing her focus into a sort of clarity. Frin gave a careful nod, trying not to agitate her head. "We'll be home in a few days."

"Good." She said softly, testing her voice. She tried to look at him through squinted eyes.

"Here." He handed her some water, which she drank eagerly. "Balin," he called over his shoulder. The loudness of his voice instantly caused the pressure in her head to increase.

Frin didn't need to look to know Balin awkwardly clambered from the driver's seat into the back of the wagon. She could hear his grunts and the creaking of wood while he moved.

Everyone was quiet as Balin pulled her tunic up to examine her side. After a moment he lowered the fabric and placed a hand on her head. His face betrayed him.

"I'm not healing well." Frin stated.

His reaction came as a small sigh. "Lass, your side, it's not looking good and you have a fever."

"Right." She knew enough to know it wasn't good. Her mother knew elvish medicine which could help but they were still days away from the mountain.

"We'll get you home." Thorin's voice was firm. "You'll be fine." It seemed he was talking more to Balin than her. She was thankful for his confidence even if it was forced. "Push them." He demanded. His tone was urgent.

Balin gave a curt nod and climbed back to the front of the wagon without argument. Dova turned from where she was sitting on the very back of the wagon and offered a reassuring smile. Despite the confidence surrounding her, Frin found herself falling into despair.

She just figured out what she wanted and now she would die before getting any of it. Her eyes drifted to Thorin. He wasn't looking at her but observed Balin and Dwalin while they encouraged the ponies to quicken their pace. At least he knew that was some reassurance. Slowly, her thoughts were interrupted by the increasing pain in both her head and side. The now quickly moving wagon was better for her survival but not her comfort.

The wagon pitched from side to side. The creaking wheel emboldened their cries. The cloth above her head gave a steady result which just added to the cacophony of sounds. The road wasn't smooth either. Every few minutes the wagon would jolt over the uneven ground causing an immense amount of pain.

Frin let out an involuntary hiss and Thorin's hand instantly grabbed her's. His face came down towards her. "I will not lose you now." His voice was but a whisper, laced with a promise. His words settled into her mind but the pain was immense. The world was spinning, then darkness came and the pain faded for another moment.

When Frin opened her eyes again, the pain was worse. With a groan she closed them, willing the pain away. In her head she could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Instantly, she felt dizzy and thirsty. Unaware of her own voice, she tried to ask for water but no sound reached her ears. She only knew her pleas had been answered when the cooling sensation of water touched her lips. She drank greedily. The relief of the refreshing liquid brought a temporary comfort causing her to fall asleep once more.

To her, a few minutes later she was aroused by the sound of arguing around her. "Why can't we go faster?"

"Lad, the cart is slowing us down."

"You could take one of the ponies."

"Will that not reopen the wound?"

"The wound opening won't be fatal, the fever is."

"How long would it take on a pony?"

"With both of you...riding hard, tomorrow morning."

"If not."

"Two days."

"Get me a pony."

Frin felt herself being lifted up, then held against a firm body. Underneath her something moved. The wind hit her face and an arm held her tightly. The movement was endless. The pain continued. In the midst of her daze and confusion, she knew one thing. Death was close and a part of her welcomed the end.