Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

Eleven

Fíli

Buckland, by the Old Forest

Late-October 2958

"We need to respond, now and in force!" Dwalin shouted across the gathering, to the loud agreement of many of the dwarrow.

Fíli listened without joining in. Since he had run back to the camp, there had been uproar. Raven was fine, sleeping after her ordeal. When she had first closed her eyes, however, Fíli had felt an overwhelming panic. Fear that, perhaps, she had been hurt. Though he could have sworn that she was unharmed, something still might have happened. Well, he amended, mostly unharmed. The memory of the bright red hand-print and Raven's split lip danced in Fíli's memory. It made him want to hurt the hobbits responsible all over again, but he knew that he couldn't. Fíli had sent guards to collect the unconscious bodies. Now that they had the culprits in their custody, they would be dealt with accordingly. Or, they would be once a decision was reached. The dwarrow were unanimous in their thirst for revenge. The manner of said revenge, however, and how it was to be delivered was still to be decided.

Of course the decision ultimately rested with Fíli and Dís, both as Raven's kin and as the leaders of the dwarrow. The trouble was, Dwalin also claimed kinship to Raven, and that gave him a say in the goings on. He was much more violent in terms of the punishment he pursued. That, and it lacked any political finesse. Not that Fíli or Dís wanted anything less horrible to happen, but they both had royal expectations to uphold. In terms of authority, Dwalin held sway because the dwarrow respected the warrior. In terms of actual power, however, he was both Fíli and Dís's inferior.

Thus far, Fíli had chosen to abstain from the decision-making process; or rather the argument. He did not like to be confrontational. At least, not with his family or friends in front of other dwarrow. Even in private, he preferred to wait until he was certain of a decision. Dís and Dwalin, however, were unfazed by their audience. Privately, Fíli thought that they were too caught up in their argument to pay any heed to their surroundings.

"And risk losing the Western dwarrow's greatest ally?" Dís returned.

"They have done nothing to help our kin, Dís. They shunned Bilba, and they've all but condemned her and Raven!" Dwalin roared back.

"Perhaps, but we cannot be ruled by our emotions either! The hobbits responsible will pay, and everyone will profit. We cannot afford to draw the ire of the hobbits as well as that of the Western dwarrow." Dís insisted.

"That makes us lenient!" Dwalin growled.

"No, it makes us political." Dís responded with equal vehemence.

"And is that all that Raven is? A political pawn?"

"Of course not! She's my niece, not a tool!"

"Oh really? Then why are you not out there demanding their blood? Taking it the way that your son has it staining his hands?" Fíli shivered slightly, looking down at the stained palms in question.

Upon his return to the camp, Fíli had ordered the healers to look after Raven. They in turn had declared that she was just tired, but he still could not shake the guilt. He had been there to protect Raven, yet in spite of all his promises, she'd been hurt. What kind of a cousin am I then? What good as a protector? Fíli silently cursed himself as he stared at the crimson stains on his palms. The blood had dried and, in spots it flaked away from his skin. He should wash it off, but he didn't. It was his reminder, a silent penance. He could still, however, remember the way that it had stuck to his fingers when it was fresh.

"And do what exactly? They're not our subjects! They're not even dwarrow! We have no right to punish them at all!" Fíli finally looked up, stepping forward into the conversation.