AN: This is what happens when I have a caffeine high. Crack!fic based on what we all thought; "Hey, is that a moose Thranduil is riding?!"
Hear me, hear me; for I am Lord Aras, steed of the Elf-King Thranduil. I was born unto the mighty moose-kind of the Greenwood and during my second summer, my Master did come to us and selected me from all our brethren to bear him into battle. And I was most humble to receive this position and I strived to fulfil to the best of my abilities. I trained long and hard in the arts of warfare and showmanship and when I bore my Master upon my back it was with the greatest of pride. He was a loving father and owner to me and I his closest confidant. He would come to my quarters and would lament many a woe and trouble to my ears alone. Such is the bond between Elf and Moose.
Yet still he refused to dye his eyebrows. This small advice he would not accept from me and I wept knowing that I would always have his trust but never his ear to pour advice unto.
One day he did descend to my quarters and recounted a tale most troublesome. The dwarves of the Erebor had discovered a jewel most beautiful in the roots of the Mountain. I bore my Master to the Gates of Erebor and did marvel at the wonders the dwarves could construct from a material as cold and lifeless as stone.
At last my Master did return unto me with a face most grave and, as I returned him to our home, he did confess to me that he had looked upon the heart of the King Under The Mountain and seen the greed that festered there. And my heart turned cold, for the world had darkened and creatures of Evil inhabited not just our fair forest but other places that were once good and fair. It would be a dark day if the forces of Evil did transcend the lofty heights of Erebor.
And transcend they did. We awoke to the sound of the pines a-roaring in the night and the wind a-moaning in the night. I looked towards the Lonely Mountain and I felt the first tendrils of dread as I saw the flaming fire of red spread and the trees like torches blazing with light.
And I did consider that the sight would make an excellent song and I resolved to inform the Master's favourite songwriter in a calm moment.
My Master hurried to me in his battle-dress and we led his armies towards the smoke that arose from Dale and the Mountain beyond. Our worst fears were realised. We gazed down upon the carnage and we realised that we faced a Worm, a Fire-Drake.
The inhabitants of Erebor were fleeing for their lives. The young Prince was there, helping them run as fire gushed forth from the halls of his ancestral home. He looked up at us and in that one gaze he implored us to save his people.
But my Master saw that any chance of saving Erebor was lost; the Dragon was too strong and our forces too few. With great sorrow, he did bow his head and turned me away. We heard the forlorn bellow of the Prince but there was nothing we could do. We returned to our Forest, our hearts heavy with the knowledge that Erebor had fallen.
The dwarves were scattered like pollen on the wind. We heard of their trials and tribulations and I grieved for them and for the loss of the world so dear to them.
Now I am old and grey and my Master makes inappropriate jokes about moose burgers within my hearing. But I shall never forget that day that I looked down upon Dale and the Mountain beyond; my heart still turns cold to think of it.
Oft I think upon the fate of the dwarves. We heard a most grievous tale of an attempt to take back the old kingdom of Moria and since that day, no word has come.
I would feel pity for them but I discovered they stole my damn idea for the song.