Note, as you may know, I have been working mostly on my new frantic Dark Rift Extraction, a Halo / Star Wars fanfic. This is because I been having a Halo bug lol.
The land grew harsher with every mile.
The gentle slopes and whispering forests behind them gave way to broken stone, wind-scoured hills, and narrow paths where even the dwarves fell silent. The Misty Mountains loomed closer now, their peaks jagged and crowned in snow, clouds snagging on their edges like torn banners.
Bilbo stared upward, mouth slightly open."They seem… closer than yesterday."
"They are," Thorin replied grimly. "The mountains have a way of reminding travelers who truly rules the road."
Edwen rode near the front, eyes scanning the terrain. The air felt wrong, too heavy, too charged. He could feel pressure building, not unlike the moments before a battle.
Or a storm.
By midday, the wind picked up sharply, tugging at cloaks and howling through the mountain passes like a warning horn.
"That wind has teeth," Dwalin muttered.
Gandalf frowned, looking skyward. "This storm is no accident."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, not a deep, rolling sound, but sharp and cracking, as if the sky itself were splitting apart.
Edwen slowed the group. "We need shelter. Now."
Thorin nodded. "There are caves ahead."
Edwen's jaw tightened. "Caves are worse than open ground."
"And storms worse still," Thorin shot back.
They didn't have the luxury of debate.
They found the cave just as rain began to fall hard, cold, and fast. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the mountains in stark white flashes.
Inside, the cave was dry but narrow. The company crowded together, weapons close at hand.
Bilbo hugged himself. "I don't like caves."
"No one sensible does," Edwen said, crouching near the entrance and watching the storm. "But we'll make do."
Thunder boomed again so close that the ground trembled.
Then came a sound worse than thunder.
A voice.
Deep. Mocking. Rolling through the storm like laughter carved from stone.
Edwen's hand went to his sword immediately.
Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "Stone giants."
Outside, the storm intensified. Lightning revealed enormous shapes moving among the peaks—vast figures hurling boulders at one another, laughing as mountains cracked beneath their blows.
Bilbo gasped. "Those are giants."
"Yes," Gandalf said calmly. "And this is their game."
A boulder struck nearby, shaking the cave violently. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Thorin swore. "This shelter won't hold!"
Edwen planted his feet and braced one hand against the cave wall, runes along his gauntlet faintly glowing as he reinforced the stone.
The next impact shook them, but did not collapse the cave.
The dwarves stared.
"That… was not dwarven stonework," Bofur said slowly.
Edwen didn't look back. "No. It was planned."
For hours, the storm raged.
The company huddled together while Edwen remained awake, watching, listening, reinforcing weak points in the cave with quiet precision. He moved among them when needed—steadying nerves, checking gear, offering quiet reassurance.
Even Thorin noticed.
"You stand watch as though this is your company," Thorin said quietly.
Edwen met his gaze. "It is."
Thorin studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. Respect, hard-earned and unspoken.
By morning, the storm passed.
The mountains stood silent again, as if nothing had happened. But the path ahead was broken, reshaped by the giants' sport.
Bilbo stepped outside cautiously. "Did we… survive?"
"Yes," Gandalf said. "Thanks largely to Edwen's foresight."
Edwen exhaled, finally allowing himself to relax. He looked up at the towering peaks ahead.
"This is only the beginning," he said.
Thorin tightened his grip on Orcrist. "Then let the beginning remember us."
The company gathered its packs and stepped forward, leaving the cave behind.
Ahead lay the high passes, the goblin tunnels, and dangers far worse than storms.
And the Misty Mountains watched them come.