Chapter 9

Originally posted on: 13th February 2014

We have a bit of translation problem here.
It's all about an abbreviation. The thing is, first letters of words in the phrase "Dorian and Sybil" equals "Das".
However, as this fic was originally written in Polish, I did a trick which I'm not able to repeat here.
You see, in Polish, the letter "i" means "and".
So, "Dorian and Sybil" is in Polish - "Dorian i Sybil".
And ... "Dorian i Sybil" equals "Dis"! The name of Fili and Kili's mother! I discovered it long after naming my characters and it was pretty funny. So I took advantage of it. But I have no idea how to solve the problem in English. So I let it be. "Dis" stays. You've been warned.

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Thorin was fighting fiercely with a sleep embracing him.

He had decided that he would find out what his nephews were up to this time, at all costs.

Since the Company had set out from Rivendell, these two had been volunteering to take a watch every night.

This was not normal for them.

Moreover, he couldn't squeeze out of them anything about the two young people for all the world.

Minutes were dragging on mercilessly, and there was only calm silence all around him.

Thorin almost gave up, he practically fell asleep when he heard Kili’s whisper.

“Do you think that everyone’s asleep?”

“I have no idea. I pray to Aulë for that,” Fili answered.  

Something new! Fili prayed!

What Thorin heard in the next moment, utterly surprised him.

An arrow buried in the ground somewhere nearby.

“Finally!” Kili sighed.

Thorin heard one of the dwarves getting up and going in the direction of the arrow. Then, he came back. Thorin could hear the rustle of parchment, and a moment later there was a quiet laughter.

“What? What did they say?” Fili whispered impatiently.

“Read it yourself,” his younger brother giggled.

How much it costed Thorin to pretend to be asleep!

After a short time Fili chuckled softly.

“Where do you have a pen and ink?” he asked.  

There was the sound of digging in a backpack.

“Great. Now, what will we write back?” the older of the brothers questioned.

“Hmm ... Maybe ... They won’t win this battle, and if they still insist, they'll have to deal with us...”

“Good,”  Fili muttered and Thorin could hear the sound of writing on parchment.

“Well, and everything as usual; that we all are doing well, we miss them, we need to meet as soon as possible ...”

“Yes, yes ... Oh, we have to add that tomorrow we won’t contact them.”

“Surely,” Kili agreed.  “Let me write the ending,” he added.  

“Okay,” Fili said reluctantly.

“Menu gamut khed, Dis,” the younger dwarf whispered, likely writing what he was saying.

You are a wonderful person, Dis? What was this, for the love of Mahal? Thorin was dying of curiosity ... On the other hand, he didn't want his nephews to discover that he is not sleeping. He felt like a spy.

A bowstring twanged.

“I think it landed where it should ..." Kili murmured, then he yawned.

“Our watch is over,” Fili stated.

“Yeah, it's time to wake up Ori and Nori.”

Before Thorin had fallen asleep, he thought that from now on his sister-sons cannot wriggle out of explanations.

***

Menu gamut khed, DiS.

Dorian smiled. They always wrote this at the end.

It was pretty funny-"Dorian and Sybil" equaled "DiS", just like Fili and Kili’s mother’s name.

Menu tessu, Fili.     Menu tessu, Kili.

He and Sybil always end their message like that.

You are everything, Fili.      You are everything, Kili.

It had been Sybil who had come up with the idea of flying letters.

As they had been saying their goodbies to their dwarven brothers, before they had left Imladris, they had explained to them their new way of communication. When it was certain that Fili and Kili had a watch, the dwarves would get an arrow with the message. They would read it and write off on the other side of the parchment, then shoot it away in the direction as consistent as possible with that the arrow had flown from.

This idea was quite risky. The arrow may have missed its mark among a stone passages. Or hit it too well in the darkness. In addition, it was wrapped in the parchment and that decreased its flight quality. However, flying letters had been working so far. They were much more convenient than the weekly meetings. Moreover, they were using sort of code in their communication. If someone undesirable read the note, they wouldn't understand a lot. This form of communication, unfortunately, was not sufficient to satisfy the longing. Not after what they had gone through in Rivendell.

Dorian saddened. He reminded himself as he and his sister had departed thence. A lot of friends had come to say goodbye to them - Ireth, Lindir, Arien, Fingwid, Merenwen, Nessa, Dinendal, Culnamo ... and many others. Even Lord Elrond.

“Farewell, Dorian. Farewell, Sybil,” he had said. “Make your choices carefully - that is only advice I give you. Now go, and let the blessing of all the elves accompany you. May the stars enlighten you from the sky above!”

Looking at The Last Homely House, shining with shimmering lights among the night falling down at the world, Dorian had wondered what was so special about he and his sister. Elrond  hadn't been the first powerful ruler who favored  them greatly.

Or maybe all the elves were like that?

They had been given a large stocks of food not bothering in the backpacks, warm clothes and blankets, waterproof capes, equipment for climbing the mountains and lots of some good advice. In addition, they had been gifted with a one, beautiful dagger for each of them. Sybil also got a quiver full of excellent arrows, and Dorian got an magnificent steath for his sword.

They would never be able to repay it.

He glanced at his sister. She sat hunched, staring into the darkness with unseeing eyes. She missed him, the most likely. Dorian didn't want to interfere in what had happened between her and Fili on the shortest night of the year. He only guessed that it had been something serious. They had kissed for goodbye.

In the next morning, they set out to be the shadows once again. They did not speak much. They were focused on not getting  too close to the Company and on looking out for any signs of orcs and goblins presence. There had been no one so far. Only the wind howled between the rocks ruthlessly. As the storm began to rage, traveling had become very difficult. However, as of course it always can be worse, a battle of stone giants unleashed. Hell seemed to have no end.

When they thought that soon, the whole world would crash on their heads or they would fall into the abyss, everything stopped.

But there was no reason to be happy.

In their madness, the stone giants had collapsed the way that dwarves had paced, with huge boulders. Dorian and Sybil were seemingly barred away from the Company for good. 

The hopelessness reached them. All day, they had been wandering around, trying to get through this shambles. In the end, they gave up, and sat on the ground. As the tears began to gather in their eyes, they heard screams of orcs.

Something hit Dorian in the back of his head. He fell into the darkness and didn't remember anything else.

***

 The whip lashed her back. She felt the hot blood flowing over it.

“Move, traitor!”

‘If you were tied to the warg and had to keep up on foot, you would die a long time ago,’ she thought, but she didn't dare to say it out loud.

She stumbled and fell. The whip hit her before she had had a chance to get up.

“Watch where you're going!”

'No.' She could not look. She could not open her eyes. If so, she would see Dorian, unconscious, flipped over the saddle of the warg, as if the boy were a hunted deer.

The sight caused ​​her an indescribable pain. She could not bear it.

They knew that very well.

She was struck with the whip for the third time.

“Azog!” Gorbag yelled. “This wench drags on too much! Those traitors only slow us down! Why don’t you kill them right away?!”

Pale Orc rode up on his White Warg to Gorbag, who was mounting the black beast​​. Sybil was pulled by her dun warg. Immediately, the creature began to whine and cower. It was always doing it when it was near the White Warg.

“You know why they are still alive,” Azog said. "Killing them would be only a grace. It’s your responsibility to make them not to slow us down. But if they did, YOU will regret that.”

Azog wanted to leave, but the White Warg had stopped listening to commands. Instead, it stared at Sybil hard, growling. Pale Orc slipped from the saddle. He stroked his beast on the head, and then looked at the girl with a devilish grin.

“My friend is clearly fond of you, traitor.”

She almost snorted. 'Friend!' she thought. 'That should be nominated as the joke of the year!'

She stared straight into the eyes of the albino warg. Why was she not afraid? Though it was insane. She was filled only with hatred and disgust.

“But I’m not fond of him,” she replied.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!” Azog roared, and threw her into the air with a swat of his hand. She fell  three meters away with a loud bang. The rope did not prevented for more.

‘That hurt,’ she thought, but did not even moan. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

White Warg had jumped up and snapped its jaws, trying to catch her. When it failed, it attacked his dun serf in anger, biting it in the leg. The haggard warg hadn;t even defended, and began to run instead. Dorian fell from the saddle, and Sybil was dragged along the ground for a few yards. Pale Orc mounted his "friend" and drove to the front of the column. Gorbag ​​urged the miserable warg to go back to the rest, and Sybil ran with him. She started heading towards Dorian, the boy lying limply. To her surprise, dun beast did the same.

She took a brother in her arms with a great effort.

‘When he has become so heavy?’

“Sybil?” he groaned.

“Ssh ... they captured us.”

“Again?”

“Pretend that you're unconscious,” she whispered and flipped him over the saddle.

She looked at the beast which she was fated to. Smaller than the others, bony, with a thin fur and as if milder. It seemed that the rest were bulling him.

‘Weakling,’ She thought. 'Yes, I'll call you Weakling.'

She tried very hard to keep up pace with Weakling, the beast continuously running. The rest of the wargs gang were moving very quickly and nimbly. They were rushing through the hard stone pathways restlessly.

“Faster, traitor!” Gorbag ​​roared as she toppled for the uncounted time.

“So let me ride a warg, damn it!” She replied. “I can walk more slowly, you know? I can resist with all the strength of my arms and legs ... I can slow us down soooo much. Guess what Azog would do then ...”

She got another stroke with the whip, this time it had hit her shoulder.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You will mount that misery which your cowardly brother hangs over. And if you tried any tricks, guess where I would have the orders ...”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Deal”.

She sat semiconscious Dorian in front of her, while Gorbag ​​tied Weakling to his warg. When he mounted the black beast, the whip lashed girl’s back.

“You love it, don’t you?” she hissed, writhing in pain.

“Shut up and move,” he answered.

Riding Weakling was a nightmare. Sybil constantly feared that Dorian would slip out of the saddle. He sat before her, his head tottering, and he was mumbling something under his breath from time to time.

But the worst was what everyone else was saying. That the traitors were still alive.

Still.

***

“Bring the traitors,” he ordered.

He did not have to wait long. After a while they were kneeling in front of him, gagged, with tied arms and legs. The boy looked pathetically - perhaps he had been hit in the head too hard. He was looking around with the half-conscious, confused eyes. He would probably faint if his lads weren't treated him with the liquor.

But this girl ... she was driving him mad. EVERYONE whom Azog directed his gaze at were scared to death. She wasn't. She glared at him with anger and disdain. When he had seen her, he immediately had wanted to cut her head off. He had barely stopped himself.

He would play with this traitor. As Oakenshield and his nephews would be finished off, he was going to kill her brother very slowly and painfully, and force her to look at all of it. And when the would boy be dead, Azog would torture the girl. He would make her love him and hate him. Desire him and be afraid of him. She would be under his control until the end her miserable life.

He was savoring that vision for a moment, and then he spoke.

.  

“I’m sure you wonder, traitors, why I didn’t kill you right away. Well, a thirst of murder overwhelms me at your very sight. But ... there’s something that would be more cruel than killing you ... I received a message from the Great Goblin ... he captured Oakenshield and twelve other dwarves. He’d like to provide me the leader's head for the appropriate payment. But I thought to myself then, that I had to see the death of this stinking heir of Durin on my own eyes. And suddenly, you two showed up. And since then I have a dilemma - you will die on his eyes, after he finds out how much you have done for him, or should it be Oakenshield who loses a head first, and you will be able only to watch ...”

He burst out laughing at the sight of traitors’ expressions and felt pure pleasure at the sound of their cry of despair.

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Kuzdul:

Menu gamut khed - you are a wonderful person.

Menu tessu - you are everything.

We have Gorbag​ here​, the same who we know from The Lord of the Rings.

Because I thought... why not?