The Halls of Erebor

The Misty Mountians

Three days of wandering through the perilous cliffs and alpine trails and all they had found were a few orcs and empty caverns. Hope had been high when they first set eyes on the jagged mountain peaks.

Balin spoke hopefully about the challenges of road building through the mountains. The steep slopes would have to be widened for wagons to travel easily. He predicted the roads would quickly become the new main passage through the mountains. It was a cheery conversation abruptly halted after the first orcs had been spotted. Deciding it was best to move silently away from the main road they followed Thorin into the mountains. By mid afternoon rain had started to fall. First it came down lightly but soon became a downpour.

Balin spotted a small cavern just as the sun dipped behind one of the distant peaks. They would be able to rest there. The cavern itself was just small enough for the four of them to lay down. It appeared as though a rock shelf had fallen creating this small cave.

Balin had taken first watch, followed by Thorin. Frin fell asleep quickly but woke up sporadically due to the cold. When Thorin was awoken to keep an eye out for the remainder of the night, she got up as well.

Wordlessly, she sat beside him, pulling her cloak tightly around her. He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer to him. Surprised and mildly panicked, Frin glanced back towards Balin, who was trying to get comfortable. Looking to warn him, she turned towards Thorin, but his eyes watched her. When she gave him a quizzical look his tired eyes pleaded with her. The small shrug that followed put her at ease. Soon she felt herself drifting off to sleep. The steady sound of his breathing lulling her into a restless slumber.

Over the following day the rain continued to plague them as they trudged Northward. Each day they searched for signs of wealth, a place to start a mine and a settlement. The dwarves would fuss over the stones around them while she would scan the horizon for orcs. Days of this went by. As rainy days became bitter nights, everyone grew more and more exhausted.

After spending nearly a week in the mountains the weather shifted. That morning Frin had awoken leaning against Thorin's chest as he kept watch. They had taken up sleeping close to each other. If he was awake she would lean into him. If it was her turn to keep watch, she would sit next to him as he slept, a hand absentmindedly stroking his hair.

When she awoke the sun was casting its early light over the landscape. For the first time in a week she felt as though she actually rested. The rain had ceased sometime in the night causing the cold air to warm slightly.

Glancing up towards the dwarven Prince's face, Frin saw the now familiar lines of worry. He wasn't paying attention to her, but to the map spread out beside him. She knew his dedication to their search. They needed to find a home for their people yet Thorin carried the burden heavier than the rest of their group. It became evident after their first few days of travel. He would charge forward insisting on a quick pace. Everything they did was rushed as though lives depended on it, which in a sense they did.

"Morning." Frin whispered up to him, drawing his eyes away from the map.

"How did you sleep?" He studied her face.

"Well." She smiled at him. "What are you planning?"

"We'll follow this mountain line," his finger traced the rough map. "If we don't find anything in a few more days, we'll turn West."

"We only have a few days of food left." Frin stated.

"I know."

She nodded. Once out of the treacherous mountainscape she would be able to hunt again, providing everyone with fresh meat. Until then they had to rely on their salted rations and the water they brought or found along the high mountain faces.