York-ie guided them through the fields warmed by the hot sun, that he cursed under his breath. He then turned their course north, towards the river. It did not take them long to reach the shores of the glittering waterway. The dwarves knelt to the cool body of water and took a thirst quenching draught from their cupped hands. York-ie peered over the lightly rolling fields of gold, his eyes burned with a fire never seenbefore in a orc; it had goodness in it. .
Once everyone had rested and drunk, York-ie sought Gordon. He looked down on his white hair with concern and dismay heavy in his eyes.
‘Gordon, you musst hears me, and believe my wordsss,’ he said. Gordon saw the change in him at first glance. His face, for a moment, was no longer an ugly, distorted face of an Orc, but yet a face that was no different from any other life of good heart in Middle Earth. Suddenly Gordon was roused from this vision, and saw York-ie’s true face, and heard his true voice.
‘Gordon, you musst hear my tale!’ said York-ie. ‘You shall hear many thingsss from Gonli, but not anything you must lisssten to.’ York-ie began his tale about the attempt to kill him from the order of Keiwick to Gonli, and all the words spoken that evening. With each moment of the tale told, Gordon grew with amazement and disbelief. Gordon’s dwarfish temper burst out of him before York-ie finished all he had to say; Keiwick was called on with the harsh tone of Gordon’s rage.
‘What is this talk of you ordering Gonli to kill York-ie?’ asked Gordon.
‘I did nothing of the sort!’ spat Keiwick with his slick eyes piercing Gordon through like an arrow.
‘I don’t believe you!’ shouted Gordon, ‘You hate York-ie, and you will do anything to be rid of him.’
‘Now you’ve done it,’ said Keiwick, ‘Even now you try to accuse me of things I didn’t do. If anyone is trying to get rid someone, it’s York-ie. He has just accused me of trying to kill him!’
‘But you didss!’ said York-ie. Gordon stood and took Keiwick away. They spoke many harsh words that changed their relationship forever. Keiwick walked away with his ponytail whipping behind him, and Gordon came back to York-ie.
‘I believe you, York-ie,’ he said, ‘And I shall have a word with Gonli when we find him.’ Gordon and York-ie paused in words for a long moment, but then Gordon spoke again. ‘We should make our way back to camp. I want to give my fellow dwarves a decent burial, they should not remain to simply rot in a field.’
‘We should not return to campsss,’ said York-ie. ‘If we makess haste then we can crosss the river under the shadow of the Mountainss.’
‘It’s dangerous, but I do suppose it is our fastest route for this hour. Though I hate the thought of my kin being eaten by buzzards!’ said Gordon. ‘We have yet another problem, we have no supplies. All our sacks and bags were taken from us, and all our weapons. We have nothing but what you have on your belt, and we still have two weeks to our journey yet to travel.’
Dismay and hunger showed in York-ies’ face, and was heard from the rumbling in his stomach. Suddenly all was quiet; York-ie did not reply to Gordon’s worry, and Gordon did not repeat himself, they only sat, listening to the river flow.
Gordon sent three Dwarves over the hills to find Gonli and the other nine, before the company set out again. It was not until after nightfall when they returned to find the company huddled around a fire, wrapped in their own arms, to take the chill from their chests. Behind the three scouts walked eight Dwarves, wobbling with weariness, and beards stained with black blood. Gomli and the others expected to hear a horn blow with a thunderous boom for the arrival of their kin, but naught a sound was heard, for they had nothing, except their thin cord of hope, which truly laid in York-ie.