Saving Durin {Hobbit/Thorin}

Chapter 40: The dark days of Winter but Spring withheld

Chapter 40:

The dark days of winter, but spring withheld

For any other creature, flying across the vast reaching Middle Earth would take days, months, and years. However, being a Phoenix has its perks, including heightened speed that allows me to reach Mordor within hours of my departure.

The dwarves have asked me in the past what I do in those lonely hours of airtime, and I have always responded that I take in the beauty of Middle Earth and think of my own present. This journey, however, sends no joy through my veins, as the land I travel over is barren in all forms. Rocky outcrops and infertile soils paint the landscape without a scrap of color. These are called the Brown Lands and for a good reason.

What I did not expect was to see a vast army of Orc soldiers marching north across the barren climate and the heart-chilling, blood-freezing sight of Azog at its very front. Anyone with intelligence could figure the intended destination of said orcs, and their intentions once they arrived. Azog is looking for the blood of Durin, and he will stop at nothing to spill it.

As much as I desire to return to the Mountain, to warn my company, I cannot, for the immediate danger sits in the jewel within my beak. Destroying the Arkenstone is ever-more important now that war is coming, for Thorin will surely die in battle if his mind is polluted by greed and lust. So I continue my silent flight over the marching forces of evil, drawing no attention to myself, and yet inspecting their tools of war. With the enormity of this army, we will need a great plan, and that requires knowing the strategy of Azog.

~~~~~~~~~~Bilbo's Point of View~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erudian has gone to destroy the Arkenstone, and with it, the madness of the dwarf king. I can only hope she succeeds in this venture, without bringing harm to herself in the process. It is my job to merely distract Thorin in her absence, handing out excuses when necessary. Let's just hope that Thorin has a harder time in detecting lies than Smaug himself did.

Just as Rue expected, Sidel and Typhon know of her escape to Mount Doom, which lies in the center of Mordor. Upon returning to the darkened and miserable halls of Erebor, they nodded to me in their knowledge of our plan. Normally, I would consider their perception to derive from familial connection, but Phoenicians have a superior intuition bound to their very essence. It has helped a multiplicity of times on this journey, and I can only hope it continues to lead their way. We will need it in the coming hours and days.

My wandering mind is drawn back to the present, with Balin and Dwalin at my side and Thorin ahead, gazing at pictures of the cursed jewel. If only he knew that the Arkenstone will never be seen again, and this could all end.

"It is here in these halls--I know it," Thorin mutters in a trance-like state. Obviously, the dwarf king's intuition is inferior to Rue's, for the Arkenstone is definitely not within these halls.

"We have searched and searched..." Dwalin replies, with an unusual hopeless look bound within his eyes. We are all feeling the exhaustion of the search, having not slept for at least thirty-six hours. Thorin, however, expresses no tiredness, as the madness in his eyes masks all other feelings and expressions. It is a sorrowing sight.

"Not well enough!" Thorin yells in his mad rage. If only I could tell him of the pointlessness of this search, but that would throw Erudian into the fires of Thorin's fury.

"Thorin, we all would see the stone returned," Dwalin replies to his mad king.

"And yet, it is still not found!" Thorin shouts, taking his fury out on the company rather than on the stone itself. I earnestly wish for the dwarf king's return to sanity, for his company has kept us relatively hopeful and calm on this quest.