He slumped weakly down against a boulder, the arrows he had gotten rolling out of his grasp as his hand hit the cold ground. A fault in his armour, why hadn't he double checked it before leaving? How could he not have seen that blasted goblin? Of all the places he could have fled to, why did he flee towards Fornost?
The man winced as he felt the throbbing pain in his shoulder blade, but the worry started as he felt the area begin to numb, infection from the tainted arrowhead already taking effect and he could not reach it to mend, having only managed to break part of the shaft away.
His eyes closed shut, cold sweat dripped down his face, his hope starting to drain as not only was his body starting to give up on him, but so was his mind, as the damned continued to pry into his consciousness and fill the man with dread.
Was this how he would finally part with this world? Struck down by dread and a tainted arrow due to damaged links in his armour?
The air grew colder around him and his gaze wandered to the sky, to watch the colours of the dusk dance against the fading blue. At least he had something to look at while his last breaths were drawn.
He stared up into the distance and slow breaths were taken, as he listened to the voices of dread whispering within his mind, eating away his hope and spirit. As he sat there only one thing seemed to come to mind. Closing his eyes the man fell back to old habits and the song he held so dear, the song that he sang in every idle moment flooded into his mind, his lips began to move and the words weakly rolled out.
" The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;"
He stopped for a breath but stubbornly he went on.
"He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadows of his head."
-"Are you going to let the dead take you, son?"
That voice. His head lowered and he looked around the fields around him, but saw no one. Wiping the cold sweat off his brow the man swallowed hard, fever was already starting to take him and he felt his mind weaken further.
-"If you are going to join with us then you pull your own weight."
-"If you fall behind, you will be left behind!"
Those voices. He grimaced and, with a flash of irritation, looked around again seeing nothing at first, but then a strange, fading image of several stout figures walking away from him.
-"Keep up!"
It was impossible. Was the fever already causing him to hallucinate? Yet the fading image sparked something within him. He pushed forward, his feet shifted and he tried to rise but his legs would not respond to his demand. The man fell back against the boulder again and shut his eyes, wincing as the numbing pain jolted through his shoulder.
His eyes opened and he saw the group of stout, short men slowly falling out of sight. Fall behind and get left behind. The words caused a flame to burn within him, a need to prove himself as he had done once before a long time ago.
His fingers grasped around the bundle of arrows he had stolen and the man forced himself up onto his feet, demanding them to listen and although weak, they obeyed and he began to stumble after the group; all the while his song continued.
" The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day. "
The words began to drown out the voices, but they did not give up easy, prodding at him continuously to try and reclaim his mind, but the slowly growing hope and spirit cast a shadow on this doubt for a short while, a brief moment of rest to his mind, something he needed. The man panted and each word was painful to speak but he did not let it stop him, he continued.
"A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright."
This time he could hear their voices join in with him, a small choir ringing in his ear and helping his words spill out, keeping the tune when he faltered. He knew these voices, they were the same voices.
-"If you are going to walk with dwarves you must toughen your skin and iron your will! We are wrought from the stone and our hearts are sturdy as steel traps!"
The man smirked as the words rang in the back of his mind, nodding slowly to himself in agreement. Far ahead he could still see the stout figures and he heard another call for him to keep up. A rock caught his stride and the man tumbled forward, crashing into the ground and he felt his strength drain away again. No, not now. He could not give in now and so he continued;
"There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard."
His sanity was slipping, as the whispers became louder and something dark clawed at his mind. But his own voice only grew louder to match and to drown them out, holding on to the spirit and the hope that he had found through the hallucination he suffered. He would not give up, not now. How the company would laugh and mock him if he were to give up, they had taught him better.
A breath hissed through clenched teeth as he gathered what strength he could to push himself back up, peering ahead to see the company still walking. He would not call for them, he would catch up, he would prove himself. He had done it once before, he could do it again. His feet pushed forward and the song continued, the man chanting it like a holy mantra and the faint choir joined him again.
"Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang."
He could no longer feel his shoulder blade and the shoulder itself was starting to lose sensation. The grip around the bundle of arrows tightened, he would not lose them after what he had been through to get them in the first place.
The man continued to slowly trail after the distant, fading company, staggering in his step like a calf learning to walk, desperately trying to keep his balance as the world spun around him. Colour had drained from his face and the sweat continued to fall down his face, his body aching and trying to give up so it could have its rest. He refused it and drowned out the demand as he continued to mutter the song he kept close to his heart.
" The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;"
The Greenway, it was just up ahead. He could see it, he was nearly at the ruins, at the edge of these cursed lands in the north. There, in the distance, he saw the ghostly company having taken up camp, he could still catch up.
The last stretch, he could still make it. Pulling himself together he forced his body on, only a little further. The grasp upon his mind was weakening, he could feel the dark tendrils slowly pulling back, as he stepped further from their reach. He had to keep himself focused for just awhile longer and so the last of the song fell from his lips.
"The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep."
The ruins, at last. He looked upon the blurred images of the dwarven company, a familiar face grinning up at him. -"Finally you made it, boy!"
The man grinned weakly in turn, though said nothing, as he fell to his knees and his body collapsed forward, a shallow breath taken as his head turned to watch the images of his mind before him.
-"You know. I think our company could use another voice."
-"Aye, I think you are correct!"
-"It is settled then. The boy has earned his place among our company."
He watched as the dwarf from his memory rose from the company and stepped up to him, the man's breath painful to draw and the bloodshot eyes rising up to meet the ghostly figure.
-"We may not teach you the words we sing but I shall teach you their meaning. Now listen carefully, son, and repeat after me."
A distant call caused the images before him to vanish and he was thrown harshly back into reality, listening to footsteps rushing towards him. Had they tracked him down?
The man grinned and soon he laughed weakly, tears rolling down and masked by the sweat that drenched his face as he came to realize he had made it, he had conquered the cursed fields, though it was not without aid. Aid that he never would have expected.
"Farewell, old friends... Thank you." He whispered and the world fell into darkness as his eyes shut.
