A/N: Many thanks to my friend Anna for letting me borrow her OC Alaren.
Bard and Tauriel said no more to each other of their feelings.
The conversation, after a period of thoughtful silence, turned to everyday matters—such as the rebuilding efforts in both cities. How the people had fared through the winter and how what few seeds they had for crops had indeed been planted before their departure (seeds for food were high on his list of things to acquire on the journey). Bard told her of a small skirmish the week before with a pack of wargs that the men of Dale and a few of the dwarves had routed in minutes. Dain had taken the carcasses inside the mountain—though to what purpose, Bard said, he was not sure he wanted to know.
"Have you feasted with the dwarves since the exodus?" Tauriel asked.
"Nay, we have not. I daresay I know your thoughts—and I do not think I would care to dine on warg meat," he said with a laugh. "The dwarves are welcome to it."
"Were there riders on the wargs?" she asked.
Bard shook his head again. "These were wild and untamed—and rather thin, come to think of it. I surmise they did not fare so well as we through the winter, and ventured into the valley looking for food. Not to mention the sun was high and the day cloudless when it happened, which as you know are not orc- or goblin-friendly conditions."
Tauriel nodded her agreement. "I say, it is quite good fortune that we had only winter's chill and dwindling food supplies to fight with through the winter when there were so many dark days, not to mention the nights."
"But we made it, and with only two deaths among those of us who survived the battle," Bard added. "As sick and injured as some were, that is quite good fortune indeed."
Every so often, one or the other of them would ride along the column to check on the people, seeing to their welfare and rounding up stragglers. Bard was only a little surprised that Balin, Bofur, and Ori were keeping up with the pace—though he knew he should not be, given how far they had traveled to reach the Lonely Mountain.
As they were making good time, it was not long before the dark trees of Mirkwood were before them. Bard was at the rear of the column when he called for a halt, then spurred Huron to the front of the line.
"Why do I suddenly get the feeling we are being watched?" he asked Tauriel.
A smirk lifted the corners of her lips. "My Lord, it is likely that we were being watched from the moment we set out from Dale."
He looked at her. "The elves are spying on us?"
"I would not call it 'spying'," she countered. "I am sure that Thranduil is merely curious as to our intent. Scouts have been watching the mountain and Dale through the winter, no doubt."
Bard scoffed. "And you would not have me call it spying," he countered. "So… If your king is curious about what we plan to do, then why does he—or his scouts—merely watch? Why do they not come out and meet us?"
"I daresay they are waiting for you to make the first move," she replied.
Bard glanced at her briefly, then back toward the woods ahead of him. "Very well, then. What sort of king shall I make if I hesitate at the edge of a wood? I have no reason to be unsure, as our intentions are noble and just. Come, everyone! Let us keep moving along."
"At least this time we're going up the river on foot, and not riding down it in a wine barrel," Ori said from close behind.
Bard merely shook his head and urged Huron forward once more.
"Stay close to one another," Tauriel called out. "The trees may be thinner on the edge, but the further we go the closer they get, and the harder it will be to follow the path."
Bard heard the dwarves muttering amongst themselves about paths and Elvish magic getting them lost, as well as something about an enchanted river. He'd never had a problem in Thranduil's realm, but then it had been many years since had ventured all the way through the Great Forest.
The further in they traveled, the wood did indeed grow denser. The light also faded to a semi-darkness that reminded Bard of twilight. Still they pressed on, and all the while he felt numerous pairs of eyes on them but saw no one.
"Why, do you suppose, the scouts do not approach?" he asked Tauriel.
She looked around. "Perhaps they are under orders not to interfere unless given a reason to do so. It could also be that they are waiting for us to reach a certain point before they surround us with bows drawn."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a single figure dropped down out of the trees before them, landing in a crouch in the middle of the path. Huron and Fera, Tauriel's horse, whinnied loudly in surprise and stamped their feet. Bard was somewhat annoyed—though not entirely surprised—by the suddenness of the elf's appearance. Tauriel seemed quite calm.
"Gi suilon, Alaren," she said.
The brown-haired figure before them rose, and Bard saw that it was a woman. She smiled and nodded her head once. "Mae g'ovannen, Tauriel. Gi nathlam hí."
Tauriel returned the nod. "Hennaid," she replied. Although he had understood the Sindarin they spoke, thanks to Tauriel's lessons, Bard was relieved when his companion's next words were in the Common tongue.
"Are you here to escort us or arrest us?" she asked.
Alaren laughed. "Escort. You know that guests of the Woodland Realm are never arrested unless they prove problematic… Isn't that correct, Master Dwarves?"
Her gaze, Bard saw, had fallen on the three Dwarves—Bofur in particular. He, in turn, offered her a look that clearly said "Who? Me?" Alaren's answering smirk was also clear: she wasn't fooled for a second.
"Where are the others?" Tauriel was asking. "Surely His Majesty did not send only a single guard to guide us."
Alaren's grin widened. "They're around."
In the next moment, Elves began appearing one by one all around them. Bard counted at least thirty, and the bows and blades in their hands—though not drawn as if prepared to fight—nevertheless had what he assumed was the desired affect: his people were nervous. They murmured amongst themselves and he saw that his men had their hands on their swords.
"Stay calm, everyone," he said, keeping his voice light. "Our guide has said we are guests in this realm, therefore there is no need to fear."
He turned then to Alaren and said, "As you are here to guide us where we may go, then perhaps we should be on our way."
The elf looked to him and bowed her head. "As you wish, hîr nín."
She then turned smartly on her heel and started forward. The other Elven guards fell into line on either side of the column in silence. Bard looked to Tauriel, who nodded, and they directed their mounts to follow. With the darkness over their heads, he could not say for sure how much time passed as they walked further into the woods, though surely it was long past midday when at last they reached the cavern-like fortress where Mirkwood's king dwelled.
Alaren led them through a large, ornately carved gate and into a surprisingly well-lit glen. Bard quickly turned his horse around and watched as his people filed in, many of them looking around in wonder.
"It's so beautiful!"
"This is pretty amazing."
"How do they get it so bright in here when it's so dark outside?"
The last was spoken by Tilda, to whom Tauriel winked and said, "It's magic."
"You may set up your camp here," Alaren said as she turned and faced the group. "Although you are welcome guests of His Majesty King Thranduil, I advise you not to wander. If you wish to venture beyond the borders of this glen, you will require an escort."
She then looked directly at Bard. "Your presence, sir, is requested."
Bard nodded, then looked at Tauriel. "Will you come with me?"
Tauriel glanced at Alaren, who said nothing. She then looked back to Bard. "I will join you, my Lord."
Nodding, Bard dismounted from Huron and walked over to the wagon on which his children sat. He made quick work of opening the trunk of coin and retrieving the gift he had brought for the Elven king, one that he hoped would inspire a great deal of generosity on the part of their host. After closing the trunk once more, Bard walked to the seat and offered his girls a smile. To his son he said, "Bain, look after your sisters. I don't imagine we shall be long."
"Yes, Da. I'll take care of them," Bain replied.
"There's a good lad," Bard said. Then he called out to Gudmund, Percy's chosen representative from Esgaroth, and bid him to join them. Alaren gave the trio a glance and then turned and walked away. They followed in silence as she and two other guards led them even further into the caverns. Bard had to admit that it was magnificent work to have hewn the rock of the hill into rooms boasting ornate carvings and pillars. Many lanterns lit the way as there were no windows, and considering how brightly lit their path was, he had no doubt that Tauriel's claim of magic was true.
Their guide led them to a platform on which sat a chair that could not be mistaken for anything other than Thranduil's throne. Having a set of stairs all its own, it rose high above the landing and the whole of it appeared to have been carved from a single massive tree. The seatback was an intricate panel depicting trees whose branches intertwined, and above that was an enormous set of palmate antlers. Thranduil must have a thing for elk, Bard mused, as he recalled that Mirkwood's king preferred that beast as a mount over a horse.
He wondered how long Thranduil would make them wait—thankfully, it was not but a few minutes before the tall, regal figure came up the steps behind them.
"Le suilon, Bard. And you, Tauriel," Thranduil said as he passed. When he turned to face them, he added "Mae l'ovannen," and bowed his head.
Bard nodded. "Le suilon, Thranduil," he said, returning the formal greeting.
Tauriel also nodded, saying, "Le suilon, hîr nín Thranduil."
Thranduil then turned his gaze to the third visitor. "And who might this be?" he asked.
"I am Gudmund, son of Sevelod, Deputy Mayor of Esgaroth, sir," Gudmund answered nervously.
The Elf-king said nothing for a moment, and then, "Oh yes. My people did tell me of your little project to rebuild the city-upon-the-lake. I commend you for such a grand undertaking."
He looked once more to Bard. "So, mellon nín… what brings you and so many of your kin to my realm?"
"We are making a pilgrimage to other lands seeking provisions, trade relationships, and hopefully even more people for our cities," Bard replied.
Thranduil looked between the three of them. "My word, now that is a grand undertaking. Even more ambitious, I think, than simply rebuilding a city or two. Tell me, Bard—am I correct in assuming you would like to resume trade with my people?"
"Indeed I would," Bard replied. "For many years a peaceful relationship in trade was had between Lake-town and the Woodland Realm, and I desire to see it renewed as it was of great benefit on both sides. Also, my Lord Thranduil, in exchange for your hospitality over the next day or two, and all you have already done for my kin, I offer you this gift."
He opened the small burlap sack he had taken from the trunk and held it up so that Thranduil could look inside. Bard could not help a satisfied grin spreading across his face as the other man stared into the open bag, mesmerized by what he saw.
Sindarin:
Gi suilon - I greet you (familiar)
Mae g'ovannen – You are well met (familiar)
Gi nathlam hí – We welcome you here (familiar)
Hennaid – Thanks
hír nîn – my lord
Le suilon – I greet you (formal)
Mae l'ovannen – You are well met (formal)
mellon nín – my friend