Full Summary: (AU) On Ravenhill, Elvenking Thranduil watched the battle for Lonely Mountain unfold. This time, the Eagles do not arrive in time to stem the flood of goblins, and the mountain is overrun. As dark as the outcome of the battle may seem, though, no one could have foreseen the ambush that would result in tragedy and change the fate of Middle-Earth forever.
Disclaimer: If I owned The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit, do you think I would be working as a waitress for minimum wage to pay my way through college? Nope, didn't think so. All characters, plots, and languages you recognize here belong exclusively to John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, may he rest in peace.
Author's Note: I took this story down for a little while because I could find no motivation to continue with it. Since I now never know when my next update will be, however, I figured that I might as well repost this and update it when I am able.
Ravenhill
Chapter I – For the Sake of Treasure
The Dwarves did not halt their advance, even at the sight of grim ranks of Elven warriors and archers awaiting them. Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood Forest, stood upon a small hill behind Bard's lines, watching the confrontation unfold. His frown deepened as he saw the Dwarves readying themselves for a charge. His spearmen and bowmen tightened their grips on their weapons, prepared to face the onslaught of Dain's host.
"It should never have come to this," the Elvenking murmured to himself. "Bah! Dwarves and their greed! The halfling is the only one among their company with any sense. If Thorin had only agreed to pay the fourteenth share, it would never have come to blows. Many lives shall now be lost for the sake of treasure."
The Northern sky had darkened almost to pitch-black, as if a swift night was chasing away the sunlight. Thranduil stared and wondered at it, stricken in his heart by the portentous sign. His eyes were distracted suddenly by a blazing light upon the battlefield, and he turned to see Mithrandir standing between his ranks and those of the Dwarves, holding his glowing staff high above his head. Thranduil started. He had not bargained for this! Mithrandir had never threatened to interfere!
One of Bard's men clambered up the hill and bowed low to Thranduil. "You are wanted, O Great Elf-king, by the wizard Gandalf! He has called Dain son of Nain, the captain of the dwarf host, to take council with Bard and thee! Hasten quickly to the frontlines!"
Upon hearing the message, Thranduil's heart was lifted. Could it be that Mithrandir had persuaded Dain to parley? Perhaps if he was told of the promise of Thorin, Dain would counsel his cousin to offer up payment for the Arkenstone and this battle would be averted!
Yet the Grey Pilgrim's face was grey and solemn when Thranduil met with him, already accompanied by Bard and Dain.
"Bolg the goblin has ridden hither beneath a cloud of monstrous bats, stirred by hatred long brewing that was ignited when I slew the Great Goblin," he told them all. "Forget your quarrels! Put aside your enmity! You must face an enemy now that may prove greater than the might of Man, Dwarf, and Elf combined!"
"I have come to fight for the birthright of my ancestors, the treasure of the King under the Mountain," said Dain gravely. "Now I understand that I have sought to guard it from those with whom I would gladly share it, rather than see it in the hands of Bolg! O Elvenking and Lord of Lake-town, accept my host as thine own to command!"
"We must have a plan." Bard's eyes flashed with peril. "Our only hope is to trap them in the valley, or our numbers will prove too few."
"Yet what of the goblins' numbers?" Thranduil remarked. "Should they prove too great, they may overrun us and take the Mountain! We would need another host of Elves to secure the valley properly!"
"There is no time to consider alternatives," said Bard. His gaze turned to the North. "The goblins shall be upon us before long. Their carrion cloud grows ever darker before the sun."
"Descendant of Dale, will you stand with me upon the Eastern spur and reforge the bonds of our ancestors?" Dain's sudden respect for Bard rather surprised Thranduil, though he wondered whether the dwarf-lord's request was not more due to the knowledge that his warriors were loath to fight alongside the Elven host.
"Aye," Bard replied. "I will stand and fight beside thee, Dain son of Nain, till I am taken by death. King Thranduil, shall your host secure the Southern spur?"
Thranduil nodded. "Upon Ravenhill shall I and the other elf-lords make our stand, and my archers will guard the rocks below. Within the valley, we shall trap them as between a hammer and an anvil." The great swarm of bats dove lower and swirled about the valley, filling their hearts with dread and blotting out the light and warmth of the autumn sun.
"To the Mountain!" called Bard. "To the Mountain! Let us take our places while there is yet time!"
Thranduil returned to his generals and captains and told them of the goblin host attacking from the North. Bard's plan was not without flaws, he told them, but there was little time to form a better plan. Even Mithrandir had not anticipated the suddenness of Bolg's assault on Lonely Mountain.
The Elvenking glanced thoughtfully towards the Gate where Thorin sat upon a mound of gold behind his stone wall. What would have befallen Lonely Mountain had the armies of the Elves and Men not come to claim their share of the treasure? What if Thorin's greed had not prompted him to send the raven-chief Roäc's messengers to his cousin Dain? What if Dain's host had not arrived so quickly? All would have fallen to the goblins, and Thorin and the halfling Baggins and all the others would have been slain. It would appear that Thorin's gold lust had its uses after all.
"Shall I stand with you upon Ravenhill, Ada?" Legolas' voice penetrated Thranduil's dreary thoughts, and the Elvenking smiled upon his eldest son.
"Yes, ion nin," he answered. "I would not risk you to the goblins unless all other battalions had fallen away and we upon Ravenhill were the last defense for Lonely Mountain." Thranduil pulled Legolas into a tight embrace. "Even then, you know that I would throw myself at Bolg's feet before seeing you hewn by his hideous blades."
Legolas smiled. "Ada, you tease me now."
Thranduil laughed. "Not so!"
"Ai! What tales you tell!" Legolas' eyes shone bright with laughter, and Thranduil put his arm about his son's shoulder. Together they marched to their position on Ravenhill, looking down with a prime view of the valley below. The captains took up their positions about the lower slopes, and thousands of Elven bows lay quivering with the promise of battle to come.
Mithrandir had joined the bodyguard of the Elvenking on Ravenhill, and while they waited for the signal from Bard, the two of them sat deep in conversation behind the defenses of the guard-post.
"Had you spoken sooner of the threat, we could have been better prepared," said Thranduil seriously. "Ever are you hiding things you know, Mithrandir, often procuring naught but bitterness from those you deny."
"As it was my news to give, so was it my choice as to the time I gave it," Mithrandir snorted. "I had no idea of the proximity of Bolg's attack, and if I had I would have acted sooner on your behalf. The fact that I did not is of no consequence now. You and Bard must learn to think and act without the advice of a wizard to guide your every move."
"We do. However, we cannot be expected to see and to know all. Even the ravens knew not—"
"Yet I must see and know all?" Mithrandir's eyes twinkled. "You betray yourself with contradictions, Elvenking."
Incensed by Mithrandir's usual calm, dry wit, Thranduil resolved to speak no more with the wizard before the battle. They fell into silence, fixing their eyes upon the Eastern spur as they waited for the signal…
A single flaming dart rose high above the valley, launched by an archer of Bard's host. It could not be seen by the goblins advancing from the North, but it was well seen by Thranduil and the elf-lords. The command passed down the line for the archers to ready themselves. It would not be long now before the goblins came into view within the valley.
A small company of Bard's men acted as a lure for the goblin host, drawing them into the valley by teasing them with a tiny resistance. They poured into the valley between the Eastern and Southern spurs, their black and red banners fluttering in the cold breeze. The bats swooped ever lower, shrieking with the voices of death. Thranduil's blood pounded in his ears. The wind whipped his blonde hair back. Dressed for battle and crowned as he was with autumn berries and red leaves, he appeared then more than ever the kindred of the great elf-lords and mighty kings of the ancient past.
The valley was soon fat with the black, writhing mass of the goblin host, and Thranduil gave the order. Arrows leapt from Elvish bows like a rain of deadly needles upon the heads of their enemies. Elvish warriors charged down from the slopes with vengeance gleaming in their eyes, driven by a hatred so pure that they hurdled towards their enemies without fear.
Legolas looked upon the charge with the fire of battle burning in his eyes. Thranduil took notice of his son's restlessness and moved closer to him.
"They have no need of a captain," Thranduil murmured. "Three of my veteran generals are commanding the battle in the valley. You need not feel that you are useless."
Legolas was silent for a long moment. "Oh, how I would see my sword steam with their black blood!" He gaze hardened. "Many will die."
"Yes," Thranduil agreed, "but you will not. I could not bear to see you lost, ion nin."
A thin smile worked its way to Legolas' lips. "I know, Ada. I know."
The mountain rang with the battle cries of the Dwarves as they, too, plunged into the fray beside the Men of Lake-town. Bard's banner could be seen leading the charge. The man was brave, thought Thranduil. He would make a wiser Master of Lake-town than the fool in charge there now. If this battle was won, Thranduil had no doubt that the people would appoint him King of Dale just as his ancestors, the line of Girion, had once ruled the town that lay in the valley beneath the Mountain.
"Look, Mithrandir!" cried Thranduil, pointing to the valley below. So happy was he at the sight that he forgot his quarrel with the wizard. "Victory is near, I judge! See how Bard's men and Dain's host have pushed back the goblins, locking them against my archers!"
Mithrandir seemed less sure of a swift victory. "Yet see! Here come the Wargs of Bolg's train and his bodyguard! Even the Dwarves will be hard put to it to break through such an iron wall. The ravaging Wargs show no mercy!"
In despair, Thranduil watched the tides turn. The Wargs tore through legions of Men and Dwarves as night fell rapidly beneath the Mountain. The cloud of bats had began their feast, and the sight of their horrid figures suckling blood from the necks of the fallen was sickening and horrific.
"To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!"
Thranduil leapt up and peered over the wall of Ravenhill, seeking the sound of the lone voice crying in the valley with the sound of a trumpet. It was not until he saw the settling dust near the Gate wall that he realized who it was who charged down the mountainside with such vigor and strength.
"Thorin!" The Elvenking felt faint from surprise. "Come to our aid at last! I had forgotten him till now! Thorin! O King under the Mountain, indeed you are rightly called so!"
"Ada!"
Thranduil ran to his son's side when Legolas cried out, and it took only a moment for him to see what had alarmed him.
A host of goblins had scaled the Mountain and was now pouring down over the Gate towards the Southern spur where Ravenhill was nestled. Thranduil saw them and felt his heart go cold. Again he turned his gaze to the lower slopes where his generals were being pushed slowly back by the goblin horde. Even Thorin could not cut a wide enough path through Bolg's guard to press his advantage. He and his company were soon surrounded. Thranduil searched for Bard's banner; surely he would come to Thorin's rescue! But no, for he, too, was being beaten back by the force of the goblin onslaught. There was no one else to notice that goblins were creeping towards the guard-post on Ravenhill from both above and below. The Elvenking and his defenders were trapped.
As between a hammer and an anvil.
Ada
(Father)
ion nin
(my son)
Ai!
(alas!)