Chapter 8
Thranduil was wandering the vast halls and the endless spans of Erebor in utter boredom. More than a week had passed since the last and unfortunate meeting of the negotiators, and Dain still showed no sign of changing his mind. There was only some rumor going around that it would not be long before the negotiations resumed, but the days went by and no confirmation came by the King, and Thranduil had begun suspecting this was only a dwarven stall, in order to pacify him and prevent his wrath from erupting.
Offended enough by this behavior, the Elvenking had considered returning to Mirkwood and leaving the dwarves and their King to their obduracy, thus forsaking the possibility of an alliance, but he could not do so without looking contemptuous, for Dain himself had not declared the definite cessation of the negotiations, but only a temporary recess. Were he to just depart, the dwarves would claim he was cowardly and easy to abandon his cause, and he did not want to allow them that wicked satisfaction. Furthermore, he really needed Erebor's allegiance, for the dwarves would make a powerful ally with a great army, discipline on the battlefield, fierceness, fearlessness and readiness to engage any kind of enemy. Thranduil was King of an elven nation, which held a long history of abhorrence towards the dwarves, but he nevertheless acknowledged the dwarven virtues when it came to fighting.
Such thoughts were coming and going in his mind, when by chance he happened upon Prince Thorin. The latter was walking with a purposeful step, holding some folded parchments in his hands, but when he saw the Elvenking he paused to greet him.
"My lord Thranduil", he said and bowed. "I am surprised to see you in these parts of the mountain".
"Prince Thorin", responded Thranduil with a slight inclination of his head. "My presence at this exact location is devoid of purpose, I assure you. For it was just my vague wandering that led me far from my chambers. Alas, I have plenty of leisure time and there is little else to do but wander. However, I cannot not yet claim to know very well my way around your kingdom", he said and motioned to his surroundings.
"It is easy for a stranger to get lost in here. Many places are dark and labyrinthine", Thorin admitted. His face then betrayed a measure of shame and discomfort. "I feel obliged to apologize for my father's indecision, and the lack of entertaining opportunities that might be pleasing to elves. My people excel in story-telling and drinking games as it is, but I doubt your kind is much interested in such things, my lord. And I doubt our dances and songs are much to your liking either", he said and shook his head.
Thranduil nodded. "It is as you say, Prince. Our people have very different ways".
But then Thorin's face was lit up with a small smile. "Since you are not otherwise preoccupied, would you like to come with me? I am going to the treasury to deliver these documents to the accountants there", he offered.
"To the treasury?" wondered Thranduil.
"Yes. I assume Erebor's gold will make for a far more interesting sight than these dimly illuminated corridors, even for an elf. It shall ease your boredom, if nothing else", the Prince stated with a mischievous grin.
Even the best of dwarves are fond and proud of their wealth above all other things, thought the Elvenking. "To the treasury then", he consented nonchalantly, having nothing better to do at the moment.
The dwarf led him over broad bridges and down several staircases, and their crossing seemed interminable to Thranduil, until they reached said treasury. Nothing could have ever prepared the elf for the sight he saw, for it was the first time in his life he set eyes upon the hoarded treasure of Erebor, and he stared at it wide-eyed, feeling the seeds of jealousy and greed stir from their dormancy and come to life in his heart.
For when Thorin pushed open a heavy door, a vast sea of gold and gems appeared behind it. The whole chamber was filled with the treasure, and it was a chamber deep and thrice as large as the Great Chamber of Thror. Narrow paths of stone crossed through the gold, and a few dwarves walked slowly and carefully on them, holding quill and paper in hand and taking notes every now and then.
"Behold the Great Hall of Thrain", announced the Prince. "Its use had once been as the throne room of Thrain I, but was later turned into treasury… and after that became the lair of Smaug", he narrated with a sigh. He then gestured around and shrugged, oblivious to Thranduil's astonishment as of yet. "We did our best to contain the gold… At first we thought of placing it all in chests, but the task seemed unfeasible", he narrated as he walked inside. "It is said that the accountants started counting every single coin and item of the treasure ever since Erebor had been reclaimed from the dragon, and that they are still counting. I know not whether or not this is true, but I personally consider it an exaggeration", he said and shrugged again.
"No, Prince… It is not an exaggeration", whispered Thranduil in an awed voice, and Thorin turned to look at him. The amazement he saw in the elf's eyes pleased him deeply, but he was courteous enough not to say anything rude about it.
"A nice sight to behold, is it not? Makes a dwarf's heart sing. But come now, Elvenking. Down these stairs we go and to the accountants' tables", said Dain's son and walked forth.
Thranduil followed, still unable to tear his eyes from the unimaginable wealth in front of him. A couple of shovelfuls from this gold would be enough to rebuild a city like Dale from the start. And to think that Erebor was getting richer and richer! These dwarves here earned a lot more than they spent, and theirs was undeniably the wealthiest kingdom that had ever been in Middle Earth, its riches surpassing even the hoarded treasures of the ancient elf lords of the First Age.
Thorin approached the accountants and conversed with them for a while, handing them the papers he had brought. Thranduil stood aside, uninterested in their particular dealings. Amongst his other thoughts he wondered where Lothrin's necklace and the accompanying white gems might be in this golden sea, and a sadness nestled in his heart, for the greed of the dwarves had not allowed him even the smallest courtesy. They had declined to return to him what was rightfully his, the gems of his late wife, and they had done so out of vengefulness and spite towards him.
In the course of time Thranduil had come to nearly abandon all hope of ever holding Lothrin's necklace in his hands again. He had come to accept that it would remain only in memory, just like Lothrin herself, with nothing tangible left of her life and presence on this earth.
But now that he was standing amidst this fabled treasure, and knowing that her gems were somewhere inside those hills of gold, and within his reach, an anger and a desperate longing awoke in his heart.
With these emotions drawn all over his features, he turned to Thorin as soon as the Prince was done with his task. "The white gems…" he whispered in a deep voice and with stormy eyes. "Where are they?"
The Prince gave him a rather confused look. "What white gems?"
At the dwarf's ignorance the Elvenking's flame of anger died down a bit, as he realized that his plight was not the fault of this young dwarf, for it was quite likely he knew nothing of the necklace and its story.
Thorin searched the elf's eyes with curiosity, for the myriads of emotions he suddenly saw in them surprised him. He had been used to the impassivity and unfailing composure of the Elvenking, and this unexpected change in his demeanor puzzled him. But then he came to think that these gems he was asking about were probably of great importance to him, and he decided to inquire further.
"Tell me, my lord Elvenking, what are these gems you speak of? Tell me, so that I may help you", he offered kindly.
Thranduil sighed, trying to regain his calm. "They are the white gems of Lasgalen. There is a necklace… white gems strung upon silver. It is stored in a wooden and ironbound chest, together with the rest of the gems", he described it from memory.
The dwarf remained thoughtful for a moment, scratching his beard, but then his expression changed and his eyes were suddenly lit. "I think I know what you speak of", he said. "Follow me, if you will".
He made for the southern wall, and Thranduil followed in his steps with impatience. Producing an iron key from a ring of many, Thorin unlocked a safe. "It is a fortunate thing I am in charge of economy and finance, so I know where most valuable things are stored", he said, and took out a chest. "Is this the one you spoke of?"
Before the Elvenking's eyes was the very chest he remembered. "Yes…"
Thorin nodded, and proceeded to open it. "Here it is then…" he said as he lifted the lid and glanced inside.
As the elf had said, there was a marvelous silver necklace made after the elven fashion and beset with white gems. Numerous more gems filled the chest.
Thranduil's gaze flickered and his voice faltered. "It is… as I remember it", he whispered almost brokenly, striving with all his might to maintain his composure before the dwarf, but tears were already brimming in the corners of his eyes.
Lifting a shivering hand, he reluctantly made to touch the jewels, as if afraid it would be denied to him once again. But it was not, and he felt the cold and hard surface of the gems beneath his fingertips; he traced their sharply cut lines and laid eyes upon their mesmerizing gleam for the first time after hundreds of years. A cataclysmic thrill coursed through him and upset his senses, bringing forth memories of the past, as he stared at the gems and the necklace wide-eyed and open-mouthed, holding his breath. "Lothrin…" he uttered, and he felt as if a small part of his dead wife had come alive again, and it called to him with love and despair.
But then a sudden wave of devastation washed over him, and he abruptly withdrew his hand from the chest. He turned his back to the Prince, lowering his face, eyes pressed shut beneath eyebrows furrowed with tension, and balling his hands into fists. The dwarf was not allowed to see his pain and dejection. The dwarf was not allowed to see how vulnerable and despondent the fearsome Elvenking truly was.
But Thorin had seen his reaction when he laid eyes on the gems, and he had observed the twitch of the strict brow, the quivering long fingers as they tenderly caressed the necklace, and the torrent of emotions in the depths of those seemingly cold eyes. And his gentle heart was moved.
"What are these jewels to you?" he asked, and the dull thump of the chest closing was then heard. Thorin placed it on the rock beside him and took a step closer to the ellon.
"They were withheld from me", Thranduil replied in a voice lined with heartache and anger. "But they once belonged to my late wife", he added in a faded tone, still keeping his back turned to the dwarf.
"If they are yours, why are they here in Erebor and not in your own treasury? And why have they been withheld from you, as you say?" the Prince inquired with mild suspicion, not fully aware of the story behind those gems.
Taking a deep breath and trying to gather his wits about him, the Elvenking turned to Thorin. The dwarf was surprised to see there were still tears glimmering in the elf's eyes, and his face resumed a solemn expression.
"Do you not know why?" Thranduil asked in exasperation.
"The particulars elude me, I fear", Thorin admitted.
The Elvenking sighed again and took a couple of slow steps, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his face slightly. "These gems were an heirloom of my House. They were worn by my mother, and by my wife after her. But the necklace was broken and destroyed, and I sent the gems to Thror with the request for it to be remade", he explained, omitting what he considered to be unnecessary details.
"But this necklace is a fine work of art. Why, and how could it have ever been destroyed?" Thorin curiously wondered.
Thranduil gave him a brief but pained glance. He hated it when he had to recount the events of Lothrin's demise, for his grief was deep and eternal.
"My wife had decided she wanted the necklace set into her armor before we marched against the hordes of Gundabad. But in that horrid battle she was killed, charred into nothingness by a great serpent of the North. Thus was her armor and therefore the necklace destroyed", explained the Elvenking in a mournful voice.
"My heart goes out for the tragedy of your past, Elvenking, notwithstanding that I am a dwarf and you are an elf. No such fate should ever befall anyone", spoke Thorin quietly. Thranduil nodded. "But why were the gems withheld from you?" he asked on.
The Elvenking's gaze idly fell to the closed chest. "Years after that fateful battle I had the gems sent to Thror, as I told you, for the dwarven craftsmanship was unmatched, and I wanted the necklace fully repaired, as if it had never been damaged. Thror and I had agreed on a payment, but the restoration work took longer than it had initially been estimated. Consequentially, Thror asked for a higher payment, but it was a price so unreasonable that almost exceeded the value of the gems and necklace themselves. You see, the immense love and greed for gold – the dragon-sickness – had already began nestling in the old King's heart. I declined, insisting on paying him what we had first agreed upon. He in turn refused as well. The jewels were never returned to me; they have been kept in Erebor ever since", he narrated.
"I see… So the fault lies with both sides, and yet with neither at the same time", Thorin commented appositely.
"You could say so", agreed Thranduil. "Each side may devise their own version of the events, but as the years go by the stories deviate from the truth further and further, beset with exaggerations and lies. You may hear numerous variations of the story of the white gems here in Erebor, should you ask about them, but the naked truth is as I told it to you", he clarified.
But then his countenance lost its previous severity, and became more sorrowful. "I had hoped, for a time, that the gems might be returned to me after Smaug's defeat and the reclamation of Erebor, but it never came to be".
"But why? Surely my father would not care much to part with such an insignificant piece of the treasure", the Prince assumed. "You could reach an agreement".
Thranduil shook his silver head and a small, bitter smile curled his lips. "It is very unlikely. In fact, after the victory here sixty-one years ago, a council of the victors was held in Dale a few days after the battle, and we discussed the treasure and our shares. Bard the bowman took what Thorin Oakenshield had promised him, and with that gold he started rebuilding Dale. I, too, took a small portion of the gold, for my army was the most numerous, and without my aid Dain would have never been able to defeat the orcs. Our losses, too, had been severe, and it would have been arduous for our realm to recover. So, Dain agreed to part with a small amount of gold, although very grudgingly so. But when I mentioned the white gems of Lasgalen, Dain simply said that this necklace would stay where it lay, and he would hear no more about it".
"I knew of that meeting and the division of the treasure, but not of the fate of the gems", commented the Prince thoughtfully, who had come to live in Erebor from the Iron Hills a few months after its retaking.
"Your father would rather give out gold than return to me what is rightfully mine. My hopes of recovering the necklace were in the course of time extinguished, as Dain's well of good will ran drier and drier. But I should have expected that, because he holds a personal enmity towards me, and I would be a liar if I said I do not dislike him with equal fervor", Thranduil responded, and Thorin's bushy brow furrowed at these words. "Forgive me for speaking so, Prince Thorin, but it is the harsh truth and nothing else".
"Yes, I understand that. But it is not only my father that detests you. My kin here bear a terrible grudge against you for abandoning them to their fate when the dragon first came and destroyed Erebor", the Prince voiced his thought. "It is understandable, under that light, why my father will not return the gems to you".
"Yes, it may be as you say... And I do not expect any dwarf to ever understand my decision, but I did what was necessary to protect my own people", Thranduil stated.
Thorin shrugged. "I am not here to pass judgement or presume to fully comprehend the ways of the elves. But if there is one thing I know, then this is that we free peoples must set our differences and grievances aside and unite against the evil in Mordor", he spoke with resolve.
Now distracted from his previous thoughts, Thranduil raised an eyebrow in question. "So you realize the necessity of my cause, Prince Thorin?"
"I am not allowed to say much, but I will say to you that I do not disagree with your plans, my lord Elvenking", he confessed in a guarded tone and his eyes dashed around for others that might be listening.
"How about Dwalin, your uncle? He, too, voiced his opposition during that last meeting", Thranduil pressed on.
"Yes… He prefers fighting and wielding his axe against orcs than drumming his hammer here in the armories of Erebor", answered the Prince.
"Prince Thorin, it has been more than a week since your father decided to shut himself from the outer world. You and Dwalin must have definitely spoken to him many times. Did you perchance manage to change his mind?" Thranduil inquired, looking at the young dwarf intently.
Thorin sighed in discomfort. "I have already spoken more than I ought to, my lord. You must not ask any more questions considering my father's state of mind. Please".
But Thranduil chose to almost ignore his plea, for when he wanted something, he could become very persistent, nigh importunate. "This at least you must be able to answer. We have heard no word considering his thoughts about the resumption of the negotiations. Have you reached an agreement, maybe? Is Dain persuaded to meet me again in council?" he asked impatiently.
The dwarven Prince huffed, crossing his arms before his chest, and slightly turned from Thranduil. "You seek to take advantage of my good will, my lord King. I told you I can say no more".
"Contrary to your father, you, Prince Thorin, are able of showing good will, as well as kindness and courtesy. You lack the obstinacy of Dain, thankfully. But you must realize the importance of this cause, and that it is imperative that I know whether or not your King is willing to negotiate further. For here I tarry in your halls, a guest and at the same time a prisoner of Dain's will, waiting for his mood to change. But my patience for this game runs thin, and I am willing to play it no longer. For we exchange idle words here whilst the enemy keeps growing, and I have more realms to visit and rally to my cause. We do not have the luxury of time, I fear, young Prince. I must be soon marching southwards. So tell me, will your King order for the negotiations to be resumed soon enough or not?"
During his speech Thorin saw Thranduil for who he truly was: an elf lord wise and ancient, skilled with both sword and words, who would not stand for any foolishness or prevarication. He was a King, an effective ruler, whose first and foremost priority was the welfare of his kingdom, and who was entirely unwilling to needlessly stall the furthering of his purposes.
Thorin now turned to fully face Thranduil and looked him in the eye. "The negotiations cannot continue until we dwarves come to an agreement. My uncle and myself are willing to join you, my lord Elvenking, but my father is not. It is true that we have talked to him, and still are, but we have come to a standstill, I fear", he revealed with a sigh. "And I also fear that, should we continue to press him further, my father's violent temper will go flaring, and his anger will erupt. In that case, I would rather not be around when it happens", he ended with a deep frown.
Disappointment was drawn all over the Elvenking's sharp features. "So you are telling me Dain is very unlikely to relent".
"Indeed", came the dwarf's one-worded confirmation. "And I cannot go against my father's will in that matter, lest I risk a rebellion, and that I will not do".
"I understand your reservations, and I do not blame you; in fact, I admire your loyalty and obedience to your King. Nonetheless, it is a pity and a shame, Prince, for a race so brave as yours. Erebor would make a fine ally on the battlefield. Our people had once drawn swords together; I do not see why we cannot do that again. I deeply regret your father's stance, and I say to you, I would have very much preferred to negotiate with you, Thorin. But you represent the future of this kingdom, and I shall give hope to that", Thranduil said in sorrowful tones.
With that he lifted his head, resuming his regal stance, and made to turn and leave.
"My lord", Thorin called at him.
The Elvenking glanced at him from over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"What about the white gems?"
He now turned to face the dwarf. "What of them?" he asked in feigned indifference.
Thorin hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with the fine hairs of his beard and shifting his weight onto the other leg. Thranduil kept looking at him impassively, efficiently hiding his inner anxiety.
"Perhaps, seeing that my father will most likely refuse to help you, I may be able to give you something in return… a small token of respect and appreciation", he finally uttered, and brought his hand to rest atop the chest.
Thranduil's lips parted in both amazement and disbelief, and his gaze wandered from the dwarf's eyes to the chest and back. "You would not do that, Prince".
"Why not? I am Prince indeed. Can I not give away a gift?" he defended his suggestion.
"It would be a noble deed to do… An entirely foolish one, nevertheless", replied the Elvenking in a benign tone, a tone he used often when he spoke to Legolas.
"But why?" asked Thorin, beginning to feel disheartened.
"Dain would be furious if he found out. You see, this necklace is a symbol for him, as it has been for Thror; it represents the power a dwarven King might hold over his elven counterpart – me, in this case – and the satisfaction he draws from possessing a valued item of his rival, as well as the conviction that dwarves have bested the elves. If Dain suddenly lost this advantageous hold, he would be frantic. And then, led by his wounded pride and ego, he would be most likely to rain his wrath down upon me and my people, which I would never risk", Thranduil replied, laying out his thoughts for Thorin to see, and the young dwarf marveled at the elf's reasoning.
"But only if he found out. I would make sure he did not", said the Prince in a childlike manner.
A tiny, sympathetic smile crept upon the Elvenking's lips. "He would, eventually. Never doubt that. Do you think anything escapes your father's eye of a falcon, Prince? He would find out, and he would be enraged. Not only would he seek to take back the necklace – or at least fight his rage out – but also his punishment for you would probably be severe", he warned the other.
"What can he do, disown me? It is not like he has another son and heir", Thorin countered. "We would most likely shout at each other at the top of our lungs and for all of Middle Earth to hear!"
"Your rash and thoughtless act would open a rift between you and your father, and it would jeopardize the unity and stability of your realm. Erebor cannot afford something like that in the face of the coming war against the Shadow. No realm can afford to be divided, for that matter", Thranduil spoke wisely, and Thorin sighed, forced to abandon his careless ideas.
The elf then took a few steps closer to the dwarf. "Listen to me, young Prince. You are to become King one day, and you must think of the welfare of your kingdom above all. Kings cannot afford to make decisions based on feelings, but only reason", he advised him, and Thorin was listening to him with a receptive ear and a meek expression, gazing deeply into his eyes. For it was only in their depths that the wisdom and age of this elf could be truly seen, no matter how deceitful his youthful looks were.
"No gems or treasures are worth an estrangement between a father and his son", he added solemnly, remembering at that moment the long years he himself spent distanced from Legolas.
"But the gems belong to you… They were your wife's…" murmured the Prince.
"Yes, they were. But I have been parted from them, from her, for centuries, and I am now used to that reality. Nothing can bring Lothrin back. The necklace is a cherished heirloom, but my memories of my wife I cherish more. It took me long to realize that, Prince. So keep the gems in your vault. Keep them secret, keep them safe, free of greedy hands, so that they will remain pure and untainted, as she was. And, who knows, there may come a day in the future when they will be returned to me at last".
With that Thranduil gave one last kind look to the noble Prince, and he departed from the Great Hall of Thrain.
Thorin stood lost in thought for a long while. What he had just experienced of the Elvenking had little to do with the rumors and stories he had heard about him. They spoke of a cold, greedy and cruel King, but he had witnessed the opposite. Thranduil was willing to let go of his claim on the white gems for the time being, so as to ensure Erebor's stability, whereas he could have simply accepted the Prince's generous – but ill-thought – offer, and walked away, uncaring and indifferent as to what might happen in the future. He had spoken to Thorin in a fatherly manner, and had given him valuable advice about the principles of ruling and governance.
How could his father be so blind and stubborn? Suddenly, Dain's stance towards the Elvenking seemed awfully wrong to the Prince. Thorin was certain now that, had any other King proposed the same plans to his father, it would not take long for him to accede. But it vexed him that this proposition had to come from the Elvenking, whom he despised to no end, and for that reason alone he was now being as obstinate as a mule and refused to cede. But his anger was like a thick veil draped before his eyes, and prevented him from seeing the greater good.
Thorin had to make sure this veil was torn.
