The Northern Mountains

~Fourteen~

fourteen

There. Sticking out of his beloved's shoulder, were two black arrows.

A growl left his throat as his sharp, piercing eyes glared accusingly at the black haired, wide eyed Princeling. He opened his mouth to cut the dwarf down to pieces when Gandalf stepped in between him and Jon, snatching his attention away, the Istari somehow knowing that if the Northern King were to start, it would be Kili's demise. But his anger increased tenfold.

None of this would have happened if that blasted Grey Wizard had let them be.

"The Elves will take care of her, Jon. They are skilled healers. She will live." The Istari-bastard stated calmly.

"Of course she will, you bumbling idiot," Jon half snarled, half spat, making the dwarves' eyes widen at such disrespect. But that's the thing. The Northern King held no respect for this man. Especially now, "She's the Mistress of Death. Have you forgotten our immortality?"

The red haired witch's soulmate instantly clenched his jaw with a loud clack and scolded himself internally.

He shouldn't have said that. He should. Not. Have. Said. That.

The dwarves weren't supposed to know. Gods damn it.

Jon reached up and stroked the cheek of his beloved, Hartlyn growing more pale than usual by the second from the poison in her veins. Her brow was scrunched up with discomfort and her lips trembled. Even unconscious, the pain was too much to bear.

"Fear not, my Queen. It will be all over soon," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

This time it was Bilbo who led them all, across a small bridge and towards a beautiful castle, bright and loved, surrounded by woodlands. The hobbit looked on in awe at the beautiful sight.

The man in black had no doubt that his beloved would have loved it too, had she not been unconscious and in pain in his arms. But of course, he, himself, would always prefer his home in the mountains.

"Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea," the grey wizard announced, as though he had not just been threatened by the former Night's Watchman

"This was your plan all along," Thorin glared at the Istari, "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield-"

"Debatable," Jon murmured under his breath, his embrace tightening.

"-The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" The tall dwarf argued, "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

Gandalf nodded with finality, followed the others with Thorin unwillingly trailing after him. 

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