Danwën arrived to the, once abandoned, City of Dale within three days. She thanked the Eagle, Sídion, for bearing her across Middle Earth to Mithrandír.
Soon she began trekking her way up the many stone steps that led into the heart of the Edain city. Danwën politely asked the mortals from Laketown where the Grey Wizard resided. Many gave the Peredhil wide eyes and gaping mouths, not being able to respond to the her questions. After recieving no answers Danwën shakes her head and continues to search for the Wizard herself.
Danwën looked high and low for the Wizard, every corner and alley was empty. Giving up she groans and, for what seemed like the hundredth time, walks up another flight of stairs.
By the fourteenth step Danwën's sharp eyes catch a flash of gold armor.
Three steps above Danwën was an Elven Warrior from the Woodland realm.
"Mae go'vannen, mellon!"
The seventy-two year old Peredhil raced towards him. "I'm looking for Mithrandír?" The tall Silvan warrior stares down at her with no expression.
Danwën wilts under the stare, her hands clenching and unclenching.
"He sent word to Imladris seeking me, Beríadanwën daughter of Thaladír. I must find him immediately." Her words seem to awaken the stiff warrior from his daydream.
Nodding the warrior swiftly turns and walks up the steps. "Come."
Danwën sighes in relief before jogging up the steps to catch up with him.
When the two reached the top, the male elf points to a large white tent that resides in the middle of the old cities market. "Mithrandír dwells inside the tent with our King Thranduil."
Danwën bows politely with a soft smile and thanks the ellon before walking away.
Within a mere second Danwën is soon stopped at the entrance of King Thranduil's tent. "State you name and reason of seeking Aran-nín Thranduils counsel" two more of the Woodland Kings guards level her with a chilling gaze. Danwën was unconcerned with the cold greeting, for her father had explained to Danwën as a child that the Silvan Eldar distrusted and despised the Noldor ellons and elleths.
"Beríadanwën daughter of Thaladír, I have come by Mithrandír's request" she introduces herself and bows.
Recognition flutters in the ellyns orbs.
The shorter of the two nods quietly and disappears behind the sheet of his Kings tent.
Danwën noted the taller ellons hateful glare. His eyes traveling from head to toe and showing the raw disgust he held. Danwën paid no heed to the anger from the Silvan elf, for something in the past must have caused him to react like this and she respected that.
"Beríadanwën! My dear girl!"
The Peredhil's hazel orbs flew to the cloaked form of Gandalf the Grey. The wizard steps pass the guard and pulls her hand into his, giving it a hard squeeze.
"Tis good to have you here, Dear Danwën, for I fear the stubbornness of both Kings has reached its peak." Gandalfs ocean eyes held a heavy sorrow within.
Danwën took in his frazzled appearence.
The dirt and grime covered his face, his long greying hair and beard disarray. Her eyes stuck on the small cut above his right eyebrow.
Gandalf was exhausted and needed comfort.
"I'm over joyed to have been invited, Mithrandír." Her hazel eyes misted over. Giving his hand a comforting squeeze of its own as both hugged one another tightly.
The two pulled back and smiled. "Come my dear girl, let us get out of this cold" he guides the seventy-two year through the flap that covered the Woodland Kings tent from the chilly air.
"King Thranduil."
Danwën looks to the ElvenKing's standing form.
The King of Mirkwood was tall, with platinum hair that reached the lower part of his back, icy blue eyes matched his tone of voice.
Thranduil was regal and fair.
But a darkness lurked deep within the ellon and it had begun to rear its ugly head.
"I present Beríadanwën, daughter of the Dúnedain Ranger Ioreth and the Elven ambassador to the Dúnedain, Thaladír of Imladris."
The King of Mirkwood stiffens at the mention of her parents. "Peredhil daughter to a First-born ellon and a Second-born adaneth."
The chilly air outside of the tent seemed warmer than the ElvenKing's voice.
"My condolences though..Your Mother was a formidable Ranger and warrior. One I could consider an ally"
Danwën dips her head and accepts his condolences. "Hannon-le, Aran-nin" she whispers gently.
Thranduil turns and waves his hand with no expression on his features.
"Sit."
He motions to two chairs before his wooden desk. Gandalf takes a seat after pulling Danwën's out. Thanking the Wizard she turns her attention back to the ElvenKing.
"We have another visitor, it seems."
King Thranduil looks pass the two towards the entrance.
"Let the bowman through, we have much to discuss this night." Danwën glances over her shoulder to the newcomer.
A mortal man steps into the Kings royal tent. Shoulder length dark hair, a few lines of grey showing his age. The mortal had some facial hair on his jawline and above his lip. "Bard the bowman" he nods to Danwën as he introduced himself. "My people's appointed leader." Danwën gave the mortal a smile. "Beríadanwën of Imladris, at your service."
The two shook hands and quieted when the Mirkwood King levels them with a silent glare. Danwën meets his gaze, tired of being glared at like a mere peasant. Her eyes narrowed and teeth grit together."Goheno-nín, aran-nin" she feels Gandalf lay a pacifing hand on her arm.
Taking a deep breath she reigned in her father's temper. The group falls silent when Thranduil sits behind his desk.
"I am willing to listen to what you have to say, Mithrandír."
He crosses his long legs and leans back into his chair.
An almighty look slipping onto his face.
"Thank you" Gandalf begins to speak of his experience in Dol Guldur, retelling the events that led to him being captured and saved by Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, Saruman, Lady Ioreth and Thaladír.
Danwën grew pale when the wizard retold the wounding of her mother by the Nazgul. "You must heed my warning Thranduil, war is upon us!"
Danwën clenched her fingers on the sides of her chair. The seventy-two year old Peredhil had never been in a war. Only dealing with skirmishes with a band of yrch, but never a full blown war.
"You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You're all in mortal danger!" Gandalf had stood in his moment of shouting.
Ocean orbs wide and horrified when the ElvenKing shook his head.
Danwën gave him dark look.
"Mithrandír is telling the truth. On my travel here by the eagle, Sídion, the orc known as Azog the Defiler is marching towards Erebor with a Legion of yrch." She stares Thranduil directly in the eyes, her face pale as she recalled the darkness that seeped from the Woodland Kings realm.
"What are you talking about?" Bard, the bowman, gazes confusedly at the two immortal beings.
The ElvenKing huffs and dismisses the Peredhil and Wizards pleading. "Aran-nin! You must listen to Mithrandír!"
Danwën stands and places her
calloused hands ontop of Thranduils desk.
"I have listened child, and I can see that you and the bowman know Nothing of Wizards." He drones with a cool bored look on his fair facw.
Danwën had no idea how Mithrandír hadn't zapped the ElvenKing off the face of Middle Earth with his arrogant face and attitude.
"Wizards are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm."
Danwën's mouth dropped at the Kings statement on Wizards.
"Mithrandír has done nothing to you, King Thranduil. He merely seeks to keep innocents from dying in a childish war." Danwën growls angriliy at the Kings disrespect for the wandering grey Wizard. "He has protected this land for ages. Lending a kind and gentle hand to help others."
Her words seemed to reach deaf ears.
"Settle yourself, dear child." Gandalf pats her shoulder and gives the young girl a warming smile. "I shall speak for myself..although I appreciate the kind words greatly" he says with a simple nod.
Turning the wizard gives Thranduil a stern look.
His face showing his disappointment in the ElvenKing's manners and thoughts. "I would not lie to you, King Thranduil." Danwën watches the scene unfold as Gandalf gains the Kings attention.
"Not this time." The Grey Wizard leans forward and takes a deep breath.
"The armies of orcs are on the move. And these are fighters! They have been bred for war." The elf, man, and Danwën are silent as Gandalf continues. "Our enemy has summoned his full strength...you must see reason."
His wrinkled face seemed to wither when the King of Mirkwood gave him a doubting stare.
"Why show himself now?" Behind Gandalf the bowman and Danwën remained ever so quiet. Their minds simply reeling at the discussion.
"The dwarves..?" Danwën lurches ramrod straight as her thoughts clicked. "Yes." She held her breath and shook her head. "Adar disagreed with the dwarves journey." She tilted her head back and pinched the skin between her eyes. "Naneth spoke of the dwarves very little, only until she and adar left for Lòthlorien.. This was the enemy's plan all along.."
Danwën felt sick to her stomach. Gandalf nods.
"We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland." She reaches for a goblet and pours water into from a fetcher.
Gulping it down to cool the fire that swells in her stomach. "The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor, Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain."
All was quiet.
Not a word could be spoken by the disturbing information.
