It remained
this way, until a loud grunt was heard, followed by the rustling of grass and
in the end, a loud thud. “Bombur!” his
brother, Bofur, shouted out, and disappeared off the small trail the dwarves
were following, only to crash into the stone wall himself, and fall back on the
grass, with Bombur laying next to him, cursing and struggling to get himself
straightened enough to try and stand up. Bifur, who had gruntingly tried to
follow Bofur, was walking with slower steps, reaching out his hands to try and
feel his way around before stepping into the same fate that had knocked his
cousins over on the grass. “Thorin! There is something here!” the dwarf called
back to Thorin, who still stood on the trail, with a tilt of his head and a
mighty confused expression.
There was
huff and scuff from Thorin before he decided to tread off the trail as well,
taking but handful of steps before he came up to Bifur, who had raised his
hands and was feeling around for structure in the fog. “What is the meaning of
this?” Thorin asked his companion with furrowed brows. “It is there, and while we
cannot see it while the fog is too thick, it feels like there is a wall of
sorts. Stone, rough to the feeling.” But Bifur had hardly his hand stretched
out an armslength! Thorin stood next to Bifur and stretched out his own hands.
There it was, the wall. His hands felt the rough surface of the stone before he
stretched them upwards, downwards. Then left and right. It seemed like there
indeed was a wall. “Bofur, Bombur! Are you two safe?”, Thorin shouted into the
fog.
