After the dim light of the mine, the sunlight blinded Lathron for a moment. Once his eyes had gotten used to the outside again, he looked around. In front of him, across the courtyard, a pair of iron bar gates led out into the Vale. On the other side, something red caught his eye. He walked closer - yes, another red flower. He looked along the path as it curved round to the west. Just before it disappeared behind some trees he saw another. 'The footprints of blood,' he thought to himself. 'Leading to... what? Skorgrím's corpse?'
He followed the path west warily, increasingly conscious that he was now entering the lands of the Dwarves. Elladan had told him to stay out of sight, but what if the trail led him straight into the Dwarves' arms? He would have to trust that he met Elrohir before then.
The trail of flowers led along the road, past the path that led back to the camp, then out of the trees through a patch of snowy heathland. To the north - Lathron's right - a series of frozen ponds were visible. A young auroch ambled along the bank of one, nosing the ground for what few hardy plants had survived the winter. Although only a calf, the great cattle was as high as Lathron's shoulder, and he stood for a moment to watch the peaceful creature go by.
A furtive movement caught his eye and instinctively he fell into a crouch. There, to the right, dark shapes slinking along a ridge, towards the auroch. The youngster hadn't noticed the threat, and continued grazing. Lathron wouldn't normally have worried about it - nature was nature, let it take its course - but something about this felt wrong. He strained his eyes to get a closer look at the hunters. There were five. They looked like wolves - no, dogs - but far bigger and stronger than any dogs he'd ever seen before. Their eyes glowed red, drool frothed from between their yellow fangs, and they stalked forward in lethal silence.
The auroch caught their sent and wheeled about, but its eyes were small and covered with overhanging hair, so that it couldn't see the danger. It lowed in distress, and suddenly the dogs pounced. There was a blur of fur and fangs, a spray of blood, a flurry of snarls and one shrill scream, then the auroch was down, and the dogs were ripping at its guts which had spilled over the ice. One gave a howl, and the sound made Lathron freeze in terror. Wolf howls made him shiver at the best of times, but this, it was like winter given voice.
The dogs went back to eating, leaving Lathron free to slip away. Not far along the path, he came across a fork to the left, into a narrow gully bordered by low cliffs. A stone arch, clearly of Dwarf make, guarded the entrance. Ahead, the path continued under another arch, into a cluster of Dwarven buildings. From out of them, a flight of steps rose to the north, leading to the huge façade of Thorin's Hall.
Just under the left hand arch, another red flower grew. Lathron walked over to it, then paused. Within the valley, rough voices echoed. Rather than entering along the path, he slunk round onto the cliff, crawling on his belly until he could see down into the valley. At the far end, a cluster of Dwarves stood on a dais before a pair of large, beaten copper doors. They were discussing something earnestly, but he couldn't make out what. One thing was clear - the Dwarf in the centre, wearing a golden chain and helmet, was in charge.
"What in Durin's name are you doing?" hissed a voice beside him. He turned towards it. There, lying on the lip of the crag just as he was, was another Dwarf. He glared angrily at Lathron.
"I might ask you the same question," hissed Lathron in reply. What are you doing spying on your own people?"
"My own people? Pah! Just like an Elf!" He gestured angrily down at the Dwarves below. "They are Dourhands -oath breakers and thieves. I am a Longbeard, of the noble house of Durin. If you were more than but a stranger to these lands, you would know the difference."
Lathron bristled angrily. "Don't talk about what you don't understand. I was born in these lands, as you would know, if you had any knowledge of my folk."
Now it was the Dwarf's turn to bristle. "What is your purpose here?" he growled, trying with difficulty to keep his voice down to a safe volume. "You jeopardise our entire operation. What if you're seen?"
"I am far less likely to be seen than you, but if you must know, I am here at the behest of Lord Elrond of Rivendell to investigate what is going on here in Thorin's Hall."
At once the Dwarf's whole demeanour changed. He beamed, and bowed as best he could while lying on his stomach. "Why, then we are here on the same purpose! Elrond has long been a friend to our people. Tryggwi, son of Tryggolf, at your service."
Lathron rolled his eyes. "Now will you explain what you are doing?"
"The same as you. I, along with a company of other Dwarves led by Lord Dwalin, came from Erebor to investigate the goings on here. There has been no tribute from the Hall for far too long now. At first, we thought the mines had run dry, but now, we are not so sure. The Dourhands seem eager to hide something, and there is something terribly wrong in the Vale. I came to speak with the Steward, Gormr Doursmith, whom Thorin left in charge all those years ago, but I decided I might hear more to my advantage if I stayed up here, rather than speaking to him directly; he has been less than friendly to us. Unfortunately, as you can hear for yourself, I was mistaken."
Lathron thought for a moment. Tryggwi was right - he would find out nothing of use up here. Elladan had told him to stay out of sight, but now the time had come to find answers. Elrohir was nowhere to be found. It was time to take matters into his own hands.
Lathron stepped into the valley, and in an instant, all eyes were upon him. "Halt!" a guard commanded. "Who goes there?"
Lathron turned his palms outward in a gesture of peace. "Elladan, son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, at your service," he lied.
The Dwarves eyed each other with poorly concealed alarm. Finally, Gormr Doursmith stepped forward. "Ah, my Lord, what a pleasure it is to meet you. What brings an Elf such as yourself here to the Vale of Thrain, so far from Rivendell? It wouldn't have anything to do with that party of Longbeards, would it?" His voice grew stern, and his eyes cold.
Subtly, Lathron eyed his surroundings. The road down the valley was lined with the red flowers, and they grew entwined with each other all around the doors. If Skorgrím was anywhere, it was here. "No, Steward Gormr," he replied, thinking fast. I came here with only my brother Elrohir. Our father wished for us to see Edhelion of old, and I took the chance to wander down into the Vale. The tales told of your halls are legendary." He gestured mildly towards the doors. "What lies through there?"
Gormr eyed him with an odd mix of suspicion and pride. "That is the tomb of the old king of my people, Skorgrím Dourhand. He fell in Edhelion, to your people, as I'm sure you are aware," his voice took on a nasty edge. "We came across his body many years ago, and decided to move him to a tomb more fitting of his station. Tonight happens to be the anniversary of his death, when we pay our respects to him in his tomb. Our preparations are underway, so if you would excuse us." He turned rudely back to the other Dwarves.
Lathron would not be ignored so blatantly. "I wish to pay my respects," he announced.
That got their attention. Gormr eyed him with confusion. "You... you do?"
"I do. I wish to mend the rift between our races. Many died that day, all of them needlessly, due to a petty feud between our races. I would end that, if only you will let me pay my respects.
"We do not let outsiders enter the tomb of our beloved forefather!" Gormr snapped. Then, a crafty look came into his eyes. "However, if you truly wish to pay your respects, we have erected a shrine to him away yonder." He gestured east, where a short side valley branched off. "Rockbelly Pit is its name, but there is another task I would have of you, if you would truly mend the strife between our races."
"Whatever your task, name it."
"Your people robbed us of a great king. In light of that, and to pay for what your kin did, I wish you to bring me seven black, sacred stones from the pit. We shall use them for the ritual celebrations tonight. Everyone attending requires one to pay tribute, but I could not find enough."
Lathron bowed. "Of course, Steward Gormr. Gladly."
"Begone, then," the Dwarf growled, "and be sure to bring the stones."
As soon as Lathron judged he was out of earshot, he let loose with a string of curses. It had taken all his self-control not to throttle the repulsive Steward there and then. Nevertheless, he had got what he wanted - he knew now that Skorgrím's corpse had indeed been moved, and the Dourhands would be performing some sort of ritual in his tomb that night. He shivered. Something told him that whatever was going on, it was much more sinister than Gormr had made out.
Oh, the bureaucracy of Dwarves.
Hi. Long time no see. I've been having a break from writing, and therefore a break from posting. In case you were wondering, I have a large backlog of chapters, but I only post when I feel I have a safe amount in backup, just so in case I have a horrible case of writer's block I can keep posting.
So I got a follower! Hi! Thanks very much, it's a great morale booster for me. Particularly important in the case of LotRO, where if you run out of morale you die...
Haha. I'm so funny.
You know the drill by now.
Lathrond Aleniel, Elf Hunter, Firefoot Server.
Disclaimer: almost all of the names of people, places and general things are owned by Tolkien Enterprises, New Line Cinema or Warner Brothers, and are fictitious, or if real are used fictitiously and solely for the purposes of entertainment within boring disclaimers. The others are owned by me. Any similarity to any real life person, alive or dead, is probably almost but not quite certain to be entirely uncoincidental. So no one noticed my endcard last time :(. If you notice this one, there's money in it for you. No, not really. PM me with a character name (preferably in keeping with Middle Earthish names, so not Bob or Ermintrude please) and I'll see if I can work them in somewhere.
