Hello, everyone, I'm back again! I've started to update a bit quicker as I have had a rush of inspiration towards this story. I actually don't really like this chapter, but I have s few exciting things planned for the next one! I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has been following this story so far, and especially the people have helped by giving me ideas and comments on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.
Chapter Six: Moon Runes and Many Meetings
APOV
Howls roamed the air on the outskirts of the forest, only fifty feet away from Amariel and the company were. Although the sky was cerulean and the sun was shining like a golden globe, there was a darkness in the air and a dreadful odour. Radagast hopped onto his sleigh and urged his rabbits forward at a great speed, and raced out of the forest. Mithrandir nodded at the company and they all followed him carefully out of the forest and behind a huge boulder. The She-elf watched as the brown wizard grew further and further away, dozens of wargs and orc riders dangerously on his tail. She muttered a silent prayer that he would be alright. Even if he was extremely peculiar, he still volunteered to draw their hunters off, relieving them of a great deal of trouble.
"Come on," the grey wizard ordered and started to run down the dry, grass slope. Bilbo and her exchanged a curt look of concern before them and the rest of the dwarves followed Mithrandir. The terrain was rough and uneven, but with Amariel's elf abilities she was able to remain at her usual speed. Her heart pounded at every harrowing howl that consumed the air. She strongly detested orcs, it was natural for elves beyond any other species after all. Amariel had never hated anyone or anything in her life, but orcs were always fiddling with that record. Without warning, Thorin halted, seeing the warg pack dart past only yards in front of them. Attempting to swallow her fright, she turned to her old friend.
"Mithrandir," she muttered urgently, willing for him to do something.
"Stay together!" he finally called, and directed them forward again.
"Move!" Thorin urged loudly, pushing them onward. They dashed over the plains so fast that some of them wanted to fall over, but she willed them not to. As they were passing another graphite grey boulder, the dwarf prince paused hastily, pulling back Ori when he began to run from out of their hiding place.
"Ori, no! Comeback!" he called, and the young dwarf quickly backed back behind the rock. Hopefully, the warg hadn't seen him, or all their lives could be in more danger than they already were. After checking it was clear, Mithrandir beckoned the dwarves to carry on.
"Come on! Quick!" Amariel stayed just in time for Thorin to question the wizard.
"Where are you leading us?" It was a question, she had been to occupied and anxious to think about, but now he brought it up, she did wonder about it too. However, Mithrandir did not answer; he obviously didn't want Thorin to know and argue with him. But why wouldn't he tell him? She looked back at the forest and realized that it looked more familiar from far away. It looked exactly like the forest of Trollshaws, but that meant there was only one close civilization that they could make to in their short time, and that was—no, Mithrandir wouldn't risk going there with this quest, especially not with a company of dwarves!
As Radagast and the line of ferocious orcs came into sight again, the company darted behind another particularly large outcropping, and pressed their bodies against it. The thumps of footsteps were heard from above them, making Amariel hold her breath, bite her bottom lip, and half close her eyes. Her hand inched slowly toward her sword just in case. The She-elf heard the foul creature sniff at the air and unsheathe his blade. Suddenly, Kili stepped out from the outcropping, arrow ready to fire, and shot at the orc's warg, sending tumbling to the ground, whimpering as it did so. The rider got off his limp beast and charged at them, roaring. Dwalin kicked him down and sliced his head with an axe, making him scream in pain. As the beast stood up again, Bifur hit it on the head with his weapon, and it fell silent. But Amariel felt far from relieved, for the orc-pack had also grown silent. They had heard the fight, and sensed where the company was. Now an entire orc pack was going to come after them. She shook her head, wondering how on earth they were going to survive this. The howls erupted again, and the chase began.
"Move!" cried Mithrandir. "Run!" And the company wasted no time obeying his orders. The ground blurred below her as she felt a surge of adrenaline. The quickening thumps of her footsteps echoed in her ears, merging with the barking behind her, and she felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead. The She-elf stumbled occasionally on the rocks that littered her path. Her blonde hair flew out like a rushing river, and her throat ached for more air. But no matter how fast she ran, the wargs still caught up, chasing them like a lion chases it's prey. And she supposed that's what they were; prey.
"There they are!" yelled Gloin, turning everyone's attention toward them.
"This way! Quickly!" Mithrandir shouted, as the company began to run again, though their legs were noticeably tiring. The savage animals started to close in around them, growling, snarling, and baring their rotten teeth. Now the orcs were closer, she had moments to examine their vile features. They were medium in stature and humanoid in common shape. They were hunched, mostly broad, flat-nosed, sallow or green-skinned, bow-legged, with wide mouths which had no lips, and slanted eyes ranging from a yellow and blood red to black, lanky arms, and unclean fangs. Some of them were almost as tall as herself while other's were little higher than Bilbo.
"There's more coming!" shouted Kili. He spoke true, many wargs appeared in every direction, waiting to attack.
"Kili!" yelled Thorin. "Shoot them!"
"We're surrounded!" Fili informed, as Amariel readied her sword in her hand.
"Bilbo!" called Amariel, gesturing for the frightened and bewildered hobbit to come over. "Remember, stay behind me and you'll be alright, I promise." She willed herself that it was a promise she could keep. She forced Bilbo a reassuring smile and he attempted to send her one back, but it looked more like a grimace. Kili shot at the warg riders, killing a few of them.
"Where is Gandalf?" asked Kili urgently. Amariel looked around frantically, finding that his words spoke truth. Where was he? Even if he was a wizard he couldn't of disappeared that quickly.
"He's abandoned us!" answered Dwalin, jumping to conclusions. She wanted to throw a retort at him to stick up for her friend, but realized that this obviously wasn't the best of times to do it. The dwarves, and Amariel and Bilbo backed away as the leader of the orcs and his followers edged in, hissing and licking their invisible lips. She felt Bilbo's hand grab hold of hers in fright, so she squeezed it gently as a comforting notion, although the situation was far from comforting. Ori shot a stone from his slingshot at the oncoming warg, but it did nothing but annoy it.
"Hold your ground," demanded Thorin, unsheathing his blade. Amariel couldn't help but feel that all hope was failing them.
"This way, you fools!" shouted the familiar voice of their salvation. She spun her head around and saw Mithrandir's head poking out from behind a outcropping before it disappeared again.
"Come on, move!" Thorin ordered, heading toward where the wizard had been. "Quickly! All of you!" Amariel pulled Bilbo with her as she approached Thorin. A she neared, she saw a narrow, dark tunnel, that lead under the ground.
"Go, go, go!" Thorin urged. After Bilbo had slid in, Amariel followed, landing roughly on the dusty ground.
"Six, seven," Mithrandir counted them off as they came in. Amariel tried to rid her clothes, skin, and hair of the dust and dirt she had acquired with her landing, but had little success. "Nine, ten," the wizard muttered as two other dwarves slid down. Soon, Thorin jumped in, followed shortly by Kili. But what were they to do now? Would the orcs not just follow them in here? Suddenly, a horn sounded and a stampede of hooves echoed from above them. Amariel breathed out a sigh of relief when she heard the horn. They were safe; at least for the time being. Orc screams and wails of agony invaded the air. A fallen orc rolled limply into the cave, a blue arrow sticking out from his chest. Thorin leaned over, tugged the arrow out, and examined it.
"Elves," he muttered sourly, sending the arrow clattering to the ground. Amariel clenched her fists and gritted her teeth but did not show it. This dwarf was showing absolutely no respect to her kin, even when they were the ones who saved them.
"Excuse me, but it was elves, not dwarves or men, that saved our lives today. If it were not for their aid, we would all be exactly like this orc," she argued, pointing at the dead monster on the ground!" she argued, her temper getting the better of her.
"Silence, elf! And watch your tongue!" the dwarf spat, and if looks could kill, she'd be dead.
"I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it, or no?" asked Dwalin. She cast her eyes over to where he was, noticing for the first time that there was a hidden passageway.
"Follow it, of course," responded Bofur immediately, and the company started to follow the pathway.
"I think that would be wise," said Mithrandir, and walked alongside Bilbo and Amariel. The path was narrow, two walls of rock either side with a crack between them above which shone through a line of light.
"Gandalf?" Bilbo questioned. "Where are we?"
"You can feel it?" asked the wizard, leaving Amariel clueless. What were they talking about? Everything felt normal to her.
"Yes, it—it feels like...well, like magic," the hobbit replied.
"That's exactly what it is," said Mithrandir. "A very powerful magic."
"There is light ahead," a dwarf commented, making the company speed up slightly at the news they were reaching a opening. One by one the dwarves stood still in utter awe and amazement as a prepossessing kingdom came into view: Rivendell. Amariel let out a breath of gratitude and let the sweet, fresh air wander up her nose. Rivendell was a peaceful kingdom of silent beauty which was situated west of the Misty Mountains. The palace had many towers and balconies and towered over the gushing streams and gardens below. The sun's rays shone proudly over the palace, lending it a warm glow. Autumn leaves danced around gently in the slight breeze over the polished stone steps and pebbled pathways.
"The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it's known by a another name," explained Mithrandir.
"Rivendell," marvelled Bilbo, his mouth almost hanging open.
"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," continued the wizard, as the dwarves slowly snapped out of their trances.
"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy," accused Thorin. What was he talking about? The elves here were the enemies of no-one but darkness. The elves of Rivendell were wise and respectable and would supply them with what they needed for a short stay.
"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill- will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself," retorted Mithrandir.
"Do you think the elves will give our quest his blessing?" asked Thorin scornfully. "They will try to stop us!"
"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered," said Mithrandir, making Thorin sigh in defeat. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me and Amariel." She smiled at the thought of seeing her kin for the first time in ages, would they be pleased to see her again? The company started down the path leading into the stunning city. Everyone was silent as they walked, either still in awe or wondering how the elves would react to them. Eventually, they crossed a short bridge above a azure river, and entered the heart of the kingdom, and also the entrance to the palace. Glancing around, she saw that Bilbo was staring in amazement at the magnificent architecture and carefully-made statues, while the dwarves looked uneasy. A familiar brown-haired elf cloaked in maroon walked gracefully down the steps toward the group.
"Mithrandir," he greeted.
"Ah, Lindir," replied the grey wizard warmly. The dwarves began to murmur among themselves in distrust about the dark-haired elf.
"Amariel?" Lindir asked. She nodded her head, smiling at her friend. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but were you not in exile?"
"I was," she started, not sure of grow to put it. "But I decided to give my former life another chance."
"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen," continued Lindir.
"I must speak with Lord Elrond," requested Mithrandir.
"My Lord Elrond is not here," answered Lindir.
"But where is he then? We simply must talk to him," insisted Amariel. Suddenly, the elvish horn sounded behind them, resulting in the company spinning around to see band of armed horsemen approaching the bridge at a rapid rate.
"Ifridî bekâr!" yelled Thorin, as the dwarves bunch together in a tight circle, their weapons pointing outward. Bofur pushed Bilbo into the centre of their tight circle as to protect him, but he needn't of needed of done that, there was nothing to be protected from. "Hold ranks!" The elf-rider rode in circles around the nervous dwarves until finally stopping.
"Gandalf," said one of the riders who turned out to be Lord Elrond himself. He had long brown hair that fell into to braids in the front, arched eyebrows, carob-coloured eyes, and a pale complexion. He had a penchant for dressing in draping robes of gold or violet and near knee length leather boots, but at the moment he wore polished silver armour.
"Lord Elrond, Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?" asked Mithrandir, bowing slightly.
"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui," explained Elrond, and he dismounted his horse with a coat so black that it could challenge the night sky. Amariel watched quietly as the two of them shared a curt hug.
"Lord Elrond," she greeted eventually, catching the lord's attention. "Ha na pleasing na see cin ad."
"Amariel? Nin, cin gar- grown in i vedui few hundreds o ennin i im gar- ú- seen cin. Welcome back, mellon," he relied, giving her a hug. Amariel had visited Rivendell more than once in her younger days, and had grown very fond of Lord Elrond, and respected him greatly. And although she always use to cause him a lot of trouble, he never rose his temper at her once; it was almost like he was amused at her actions. "Cin are ú- bringing trast- hi, im estel?" Amariel smiled shamefully and let out a brief laugh, causing everyone to give the pair odd looks.
"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near," Elrond said, returning to his former conversation with Mithrandir.
"Ah, that may have been us," he admitted. At this moment, Thorin stepped forward, still holding his axe.
"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," Elrond acknowledged.
"I do not believe we have met," said Thorin coldly. Amariel willed that the dwarf prince would not say anything rude to her elvish friends.
"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain," commented the Lord of Rivendell.
"Indeed? He made no mention of you," retorted Thorin disdainfully, making Amariel throw glares at him, but he ignored them all. Ignoring the insult, Elrond turned to the dwarves and spoke in Sindarin.
"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin." Evidently, the dwarves did not understand a word he was saying, so took it as an offence.
"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" questioned Gloin, and his kin grew bellicose and gripped their weapons uneasily. Amariel shook her head and sighed.
"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," said Mithrandir, quite exasperated. The dwarves huddled together and quickly discussed how to answer. But the She-elf already knew what their answer would be, even if it was their 'enemies' offering them food, food always won over in the end.
"Ah, well, in that case, lead on," Gloin proclaimed, as the rest mumbled their agreements. Amariel rolled her eyes, wondering how that night would turn out.
Nighttime falls like a ebony curtain, leaving no traces of sunlight. The night was so pure and cold that even death couldn't cause it any harm. Embedded into it, twinkled pure crystalline stars, like someone had gone and carefully planted each and every diamond so they could all just admire their stunning natural beauty. But the heavy, storm-clouds in the distance, and thick air was drenched with the promise of rain. Amariel had always loved gazing out into the darkened sky embroidered with starlight. Starlight was her most beloved light, it always seemed to remind her that there was light even in the darkest of places. A harp and light singing could be heard from the balcony where Amariel leaned over.
"Ngîl cennin eriel vi, Menel aduial, Glingant sui mîr, Síliel mae, Ngîl cennin firiel vi, Menel aduial, Dúr, dúr i fuin, Naenol mae, An i ú nathant, An i naun ului, A chuil, anann cuiannen, A meleth, perónen," she sang beautifully into the chilly breeze.
"That was beautiful," said a melodic voice, coming from behind her. She turned around to see a She-elf of great beauty; she had flowing dark hair that tumbled down her back like a waterfall, gentle sapphire eyes, full crimson lips, and perfect pale skin. She wore a indigo dress that complimented her stunning figure and an elven silver tiara.
"Thank you," replied Amariel, a little embarrassed that someone had heard her sing. She hadn't thought she was very good at singing.
"My name is Arwen," spoke the lady gently. "What is yours?"
"Amariel," she replied, curious about this mystery elf. "But if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Lord Elrond's daughter. I heard that a wizard, a hobbit, an elf, and thirteen dwarves arrived in our city earlier this day, are you the elf?" she asked, eagerly, and Amariel nodded slowly.
"Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Arwen, but I must head to the feast. It has probably already began," she said. Arwen looked disappointed at this news for a moment before smiling again.
"The pleasure was all mine. I am sorry for keeping you, and I hope to see you again soon," Arwen farewelled as Amariel headed toward the room where the feast was held. Amariel waved over her shoulder and disappeared behind the corner. All the dwarves had already arrived and were picking cautiously at their plates of vegetables, while Mithrandir and Lord Elrond had just taken their seats. Amariel walked quietly over to a spare seat next to Bilbo and sat down. The table was stacked with all sorts of elvish dishes with candles between them. As she helped herself to the salad and lembas bread, she heard the gentle melody of a flute and couldn't help but feel at home. Glancing around at the dwarves, she noticed that Kili had been staring and just winked at one of the She-elves playing the harp. Amariel felt quite annoyed at that. Why had he taken such a rapid liking toward the Rivendell elves and not her? She didn't think she had done anything wrong. Was it because of their hospitality? Wasn't there a saying that food always won over a man's heart? But as Kili turned his head back, he saw Dwalin glaring at him, and his smile quickly faded.
"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself; too thin," he said, and glanced over at Amariel. "They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin, not enough facial hair for me." At that moment, a handsome elf drifted by, playing a small harp, and Kili added, "Although, that one there's not too bad."
"That's not an elf maid," Dwalin informed, making Amariel bite her lip hard, so not to laugh. Kili quickly turned to look at him, shock plastered onto his face. Dwalin winked, and all the dwarves laughed at Kili's expression, even Amariel joined in quietly, not able to suppress her laughter any longer.
"That's funny," said the embarrassed Kili, as Bofur leaned on his shoulder, almost falling off his chair with laughter.
A little later, Elrond was examining the swords they had collected in the troll hoard.
"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver," declared Elrond, holding Thorin's elvish blade. "A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." He handed it back to the dwarf who accepted it with a nod. The Lord then began to examine Mithrandir's sword carefully, twirling it slowly in his fingertips.
"And this is Glamdring, the Foe hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age."
"I wouldn't bother, laddie," she heard Balin say, and turned to see Bilbo unsheathing his small blade. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war,"
"What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?" queried the hobbit, a little affronted.
"I'm not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really," answered Balin, but Amariel disagreed, it was small for a sword, there was no arguing that, but it was far from a letter-opener as well.
"How did you come by these?" Lord Elrond asked.
"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," retold Mithrandir, chewing on a pastry roll. Amariel could feel this was going somewhere, they didn't want it to go.
"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" he persisted. No-one answered this, and Thorin became rather perturbed.
"Excuse me," he said, pushed out his chair, and left the feast.
"Thirteen dwarves, a halfling, and an elf, hmm," the Lord continued, taking a sip from his goblet of wine. "Strange travelling companions, Gandalf,"
"These are the descendants of the House of Durin," Mithrandir explained. "They're noble, decent folk. And they're surprisingly cultured. They've got a deep love of the arts." Without warning, Bofur jumped onto the low table and began to sing in their merry tone.
"There's... an... inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn. Beneath an old gray hill." The dwarves started to bang their fists on the table in tune with the song. "And there they brew a beer so brown, the man in the moon himself came down and to drink his fill." They were all quite out of time, gruff, and random so she could barely make out the words. "Oh, the ostler had a tipsy cat, that played the five-stringed fiddle. And up and down he saws his bow, now squeaking high... now purring low." Food started to fly everywhere as Bofur danced all over it. "Now sawing in the middle. So, the cat and the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a drink that'll wake the dead. He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, and the landlord shook the man in the moon. 'It's after three!' he said!" And with that, the song finished, and the dwarves threw food all over the ground and into the air, leaving all the elves with disturbed faces.
"Our business is no concern of elves," said Thorin, as him, Mithrandir, Elrond, Balin, Bilbo, and Amariel walked through one of the many hallways of the palace.
"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map!" demanded Mithrandir.
"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets," continued Thorin, mulishly.
"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," muttered the wizard. "Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle- earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!" Elrond looked expectantly at the dwarf who seemed to be in thought. Finally, Thorin reached for the map and was about to hand it to the Lord when Balin stopped him.
"Thorin, no!" But he brushed Balin's hand aside and gave it to Elrond who unfolded it and silently skimmed over it.
"Erebor. What is your interest in this map?" Thorin was about to answer when Mithrandir beat him to it.
"It's mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" Elrond walked away a bit, looking at the map, and as the moonlight, which was shining through a high window, hit the map, he realized something.
"Cirth Ithil," he muttered.
"Moon runes? Of course. An easy thing to miss," the wizard smiled in understatement.
"Well in this case, that is true; moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written," Elrond explained.
"Can you read them?" asked Thorin.
Elrond lead them up to an open area outside, on the side of a cliff. A rippling waterfall was surging over them, falling with white splashes into the cool water below.
"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago," he said, leading them toward a round crystal table on the edge of the cliff. "It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight." Amariel looked up and saw that the dense clouds that were covering the moon were floating away, making the moon's ray's of light shimmer down onto them. Elrond lay the map on the table, and as the light flowed onto it, bright blue ancient runes became visible, and he began to translate them. "Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole." Amariel took all the information in, determined to remember it.
"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked.
"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," informed Mithrandir.
"This is ill news," said Thorin. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."
"But that does not leave us with much time," Amariel put in.
"But we still have some time," Balin pointed out, positively.
"Time? For what?" questioned Bilbo.
"To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened," replied Balin, addressing not only the hobbit but everyone.
"So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain," Elrond said, and Amariel released a quiet sigh, knowing that they had easily let the secrecy of their task slip.
"What of it?" Thorin implied cautiously, but he tried not to show it.
"There are some who would not deem it wise," he replied, while Thorin took back the map gruffly.
"What do you mean?" asked Mithrandir.
"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." With that said, Elrond left the rest of the group alone to their thoughts. What did he mean? Did he mean the orcs? Or some other, darker force?
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