The Ties That Bind

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Thorin, what is going on?"

Thorin paused in his pacing as Dwalin and Balin both strode into the courtyard. His eyes narrowed at the two of them, his gut twisting sharply as he asked, "Where is Madris?"

Balin shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea. She was not in her chambers, nor in the Great Hall, and no one has seen her all morning."

Although he expected Balin's answer, that didn't make hearing it any easier. Forget twisting, his stomach knotted itself painfully as he tried to remain calm. Impossible. His heart sped up. His gut churned. The need to find Eirlys, to make certain she was safe, nearly devoured him.

"I let that viper into our home," Thorin growled, turning to stare up at Ravenhill in the distance. "I let her in and she's taken Eirlys and I have no idea why."

"Taken her where, though?" Balin asked.

Without turning away from the tower looming in the distance, Thorin replied, "Ravenhill."

"How do you know?"

He glanced over at Dwalin. "I cannot answer, for I don't know. I feel it. She is there."

Dwalin bobbed his head. "I'll gather everyone."

"Thranduíl was sending us reinforcements. Balin, I need you to ride into Dale and see where they are at this point." Thorin said, his stomach twisting with fury that he only just barely contained. "We cannot wait for them much longer, so if they've not arrived in Dale, I'll need you to find Bard and see if he has an estimated arrival.

"Meanwhile," he turned to Dwalin, "go find Fíli and the two of you muster as many as you can. We have no time to spare, so do it quickly."

Dwalin bobbed his head. "Aye. Ye won't even notice I've gone."

With that, he and Balin turned and hurried off, while Thorin stood where he was, his gaze drawn back to Ravenhill. He couldn't explain how he knew Eirlys was somewhere within those stone walls, but he did. The longer he stared, the more certain he was that he would find her there. And if Madris or anyone else harmed a hair on his wife's head, they would never be dead enough.

Eirlys' head ached with a fury that brought tears to her eyes as she slowly fought to open them. Her vision swam. Her stomach tumbled. A sour, brackish taste filled her mouth and for a horrifying moment, Eirlys was certain she was about to be sick.

Icy wind blew in through the arched stone window high above her, swirling down into the small, dank cell, which smelled of damp stone and fear. All she could see through that window was iron-gray sky, and the occasional raven soaring above.

She shivered as she lay there, which only made her nausea worse. If her head would just explode, she would find it a relief from the relentless pounding. Her mouth was dry, her throat parched, and as the spinning slowly subsided, she swallowed hard and braced herself to sit up.

Slowly, her eyes obeyed and she looked around at the grayish black stone walls on three sides of her. Before her, a door made up of iron bars. She sat upon a hard stone floor, the chill from it creeping up along her spine to add to her headache.

Eirlys leaned her head back against the rough stone as she tried to remember what happened, how she'd come to be at this place. Rubbing her forehead with one hand, she tried to will her headache into the past, which wasn't easy. Her mouth was so dry. What she wouldn't give for something hot to drink.