Born from Stone (A Thorin Oakenshield story)

A touch of darkness dwindles the flame

He led their horses through the frozen forest in a spirited trot and they remained silently embraced with her becoming more and more fearful of what was to come when they arrived and him becoming more and more silently thoughtful. She didn't want to go back and pretend that nothing had happened between them in front of everyone, but she also knew that they couldn't stay away forever. When finally they turned upon the highway that led straight to Erebor she felt their horse slowing down and was forced to open up her eyes.

That is when her breath caught and her fingers dug into his forearm shields nervously. Hundreds if not thousands of dwarven families on foot and on carriages. Men, women and children of all ages were progressing towards the half build gates of Erebor at the left side of the road, while the right was occupied by a long line of soldiers that were marching with their banners held up high and their torches blazing in the dead of night. They were singing military tunes, trying to encourage the refugees that walked next to them, following the River Running to their final destination.

"What is all this?" She muttered feeling overwhelmed and searched for his hand.

Their fingers stippled and he squeezed her gently, "The ones on the right are divisions from Vigdis Folk and Var's folk judging from their banners. They must be at least a thousand", his voice was calm.

"What about the families?" She turned to the other side.

"We ask, it's the only way to find out". He put the horse at a trot until they reached the end of the line and then he spoke, "Where are you coming from?"

A middle aged dwarf with a long grey beard and clever eyes turned. He leaned on his staff and smiled "We are Thulin's Folk, coming down from the North. Several hidden small cities between Gundabad and Ered Mithrin got hurriedly evacuated when we got word that the Mountain King returned. I think though that further up the line you will find several families of Sindri's Folk from the central ranges of Middle Earth. They are coming from Eregion up to the Ettenmoors. Also Úri's Folk are coming up behind us that reside in the small mountain ranges between Gondor and Orodruin in North Ithilien. The first ones that joined our progression say that darkness is spreading south of Erebor behind Ered Lithui".

"The Ash Mountains..." Thorin whispered and his brow creased.

"Aye, there are too many orcs taking shelter behind them", the man nodded.

"Thank you," Thorin said.

"My Lord", the man bowed.

"Maybe I should alight. They mustn't see us in this manner", she turned her head and whispered above her shoulder.

His thumb caressed the back of her hand, "Not you my beauty", he gave her the reigns and got off his horse.

She stopped it and looked at him in disbelief, "what you are doing is unheard off", she leaned and whispered.

His hand cupped her knee and stroked it gently, "No woman walks next to me while I ride. Now lead it to the entrance and I will join you soon".

She shook her head abhorred and cupped his hand, "No".

"Listen to me and don't over react. Heed my request and lead the horse to the entrance. Standing here talking to each other like this raises even more questions", he said carefully.

She looked up thoughtfully for a couple of moments, "wait, I've got an idea". She alighted and gave him the reigns, "hold them for me".

His brow raised in silent scrutiny as she walked briskly to a rather threadbare looking old woman that was barely able to walk with the help of her stick. She leaned over and stopped her. Then she pointed back at him. His heart smiled at her selfless act and he leaned his elbow on the horse's shoulder patiently. The old woman walked back with the help of Eilin.