Chapter 11: Path of Least Strife
It was a ragged thing, the striking dummy Dwalin was supplied. Wooden figures dressed in whatever was available, followed by armor they did not have a need for. All that remained was to visualize it as an enemy of choice and wail at it with all of his strength. Orcs are easy to provide the mental image of, Durin knows he has brought down more of those cretin than he cared to count. Men are likewise easy to imagine, but what Dwalin in this case wanted more than anything else to picture an elvish opponent.
His memory of the debacle down at Mirkwood served somewhat to that capacity, but it was a woefully incomplete image of what it's like fighting the elusive knife-ears. He and his companions were overwhelmed in an instant, far too fast to take even a half-decent measure of them.
In a few days from now they very well could be neck deep in battle with these beings, less than two dozen combatants facing an army of hundreds. He felt less than optimistic about their lack of experience far as the elves are concerned, but would damned well be sure not to make it easy for them.
Men are less of a concern in that regard. He doubted they would amount to enough to provide a threat.
Dwalin struck his massive mace across the dummy's head with such force that it span and hit the opposing wall, from which it then fell and clattered against the stone floor in a clamor of wood and clashing metal.
Rather than pick it up and resume, he set the mace down and brought himself to ruminate quietly while those around him continued to clash with each their own striking dummies. Thorin among them who went at it with more energy than the others, until he slowed with the approach of Balin who opened up a line of conversation.
He had no idea of what was discussed over the persistent clamor, so his interest quickly faded and he busied himself with righting up the dummy for another go until Balin approached.
"Dwalin, you can continue that later." his elder brother told him, "Come, and leave your weapon and armor. We got work to do where neither will be needed."
"What's this about?" Dwalin asked in puzzlement.
Balin held his gaze, "We're going down to the forges, to test and make sure all of it's in serviceable condition. All else I'll explain on the way."
That did sound reasonable enough. Dwalin complied then followed his brother out and away from the armory in short order. One question lingered though when it became clear that Balin was not about to ask for more to join them, "You're not going to ask for anybody else to assist?"
"Frankly speaking the two of us will suffice." Balin replied, voice suddenly grim, "What we are about to do has little to do with what I previously told you. The task ahead, we cannot let Thorin know of it."
Dwalin bristled, disturbed by the knowledge that his own blood had apparently embarked on some secret ploy, "Why?"
And he explained. What brought this on, and why the secrecy was a requisite. H'anigi had told Balin a little while ago that Bilbo's in possession of some powerful magical trinket he picked up in the Misty Mountains that needed to be destroyed soonest possible. Dwalin could not quite believe his ears, and when they arrived at a meeting spot where the hobbit and miqo'te waited for them he asked but one question: "And when exactly did you two plan to tell the rest of us about this cursed ring you somehow found in that accursed place?"
"It didn't come up." H'anigi supplied, seeming strangely smug about the reply.
"How very clever..." Dwalin grumbled, "Bilbo?"
"Y-yeah, sorry about that." Bilbo awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed, "Did not want to burden anyone, but I'm... kind of out of options."
"No need for worry. We are glad to help." Balin commented reassuringly, "Now make haste. Onto the forges we go."
Dwalin and the others followed Balin succinctly as he took a nearby set of stairs that led down to yet another staircase, then another one. Down and down they passed through the floors between themselves and their destination. A path that culminated in what was for the non-dwarves a jarringly narrow series of stairs surrounded by a cavernous expanse that seemed to have no limit in its width. Dwalin and his brother on the other hand navigated the place easily, he even found time to marvel at the scale of Erebor's mighty facilities that stood heads and shoulders above all other such places in the north.
Most prominently across this expanse stood great furnaces which at full blast could melt many tons of ore like so much cheese. Each that would require a large crew and hours of work to start up and maintain. Briefly did he gauge the reaction of his companions in this venture, but found that only H'anigi really beheld this view with any fascination. Bilbo in contrast, being from a people of mostly farmers, showed no apparent interest whatsoever – his only concern being wherever Balin intended for their destination.
A place that amounted to a comparatively small workshop that nevertheless was absurdly well-equipped. Dwalin picked up a long-handled sledgehammer from a mess of cobweb and examined it with no small amount of reverence. Each of these tools being works of art, the type given to the greatest of artifex.
"Here we are." Balin declared as he inspected the furnace and the supply of fuel, "Come, my kin. Help me with this."
Eager to put such exquisite equipment to use, Dwalin went to work with what was for him a grand display of enthusiasm, "Aye."
OoOoO
Upon arrival, H'anigi found herself a chair and simply watched as the dwarves worked. For starters, they put shovels and brushes to use and removed the piles of ashes that permeated the furnace's multiple internal layers that once clean were fed with heaps of fuel. Dwalin shoveled coal into place while Balin made sure to distribute it and the tinder. Once all was ready, they lit it up. From there, Balin kept an eye on the fire and continued to distribute tinder and coal where needed, while Dwalin got on the huge bellow and fanned the flames.
It took a fair while to get it to blaze at full blast, but it was well worth the wait as it quickly overtook every forge she's ever known in terms of intensity. Her eyes teared at how fiercely the furious flames made themselves felt across this workshop, so much so that she wondered how in the world the dwarves managed to keep their beards unlit.
"That should do it." Balin stated after another small stretch of time, and took up a tong of rather considerable length, "Bilbo, if you will..."
"So the moment of truth has come." H'anigi applied a gentle pat on the silent hobbit's back, though she watched in a hawkish manner in case the symptoms rear their ugly heads, "Go on. See if the blasted thing can withstand this."
Bilbo nodded gravely as he reached into his pocket and retrieved it, then held onto the thing with both hands as though he contemplated putting it on.
She applied a hand onto the nearest shoulder of his, "Bilbo."
The hobbit grimaced, "... I... know..." and placed the ring on the palm of his right hand. An effort that seemed momentous.
Soon as the palm was fully open, Balin plucked up the ring with his tong and carefully placed it onto a metal grill in the center of the furnace. H'anigi kept her hand on him to root him in place as they now waited with bated breath.
OoOoO
"How does it look?"
Balin did not respond to Dwalin who continued to operate the bellow, his gaze focused fully on Bilbo's mysterious ring. It looked like no more than a very simple golden band, but its appearance was wholly deceiving. Even exposed to heat such as this for an hour, he could detect not the slightest deformity. It simply refused to melt.
Instead, a set of flowing runes had appeared across the band, a strange form of elvish, that glowered with malevolent potency, almost like the thing taunted them for their effort. Balin had not a clue as to the meaning of those characters, but to look upon them caused anxiety. We aren't done yet... Balin shook his head and growled, offended by the mockery it offered, as he extended the tong once again, and withdrew the ring onto the nearest anvil, "Dwalin. Bring down the hammer."
Without a word, Dwalin promptly left the bellow to pick up the master-crafted sledgehammer that he had put down next to it and held it expertly with both hands as he neared, took position, swung it high over his head and brought it down in with such force that the impact was thunderous, and sent a shower of angry sparks in every direction. A scream of metal was issued that was immediately joined by a yelp from Bilbo, like he had been physically struck.
Unbelievably, the ring got out of this without a scratch.
Befuddled and astonished, Dwalin withdrew his hammer and looked upon the surface of it he had landed the blow with.
It was dented.
"I cannot believe it." Dwalin hissed.
"We took a trip down to the smithy back in Lake-town." H'anigi revealed, her narrowed eyes on the hammer, "The sledgehammer used to try and break it apart shattered in one hit."
"Shattered?!"
"Like it was made from glass..."
Dwalin swore.
"It's to be expected..." Balin shook his head, "Nevertheless we must take heart. We got the best tools on hand... If we can't hack this..."
OoOoO
H'anigi momentarily hated Balin for that last bit even if she recognized how unreasonable that was as the dwarves continued to go at it. Instead her attention focused on the aetheric eruptions that shot from the ring with every blow of the sledgehammer, each one strangely subdued compared to the reaction elicited from it back in Lake-town. It seemed the ring was not without bizarre mood swings of its own.
Now it did no more than mock them rather than explode in outrage.
In so doing it mocked Dwalin more than anyone else, who reciprocated in kind as with every strike he sharpened his stance and placed more strength in his wide swings that terminated against the cursed golden band until the sledgehammer on the verge of being broken apart.
Dwalin grunted in displeasure at the knowledge, and swung one more time... upon which his newly gained tool broke like an eggshell if with a disturbing lack of dramatics. In reaction, Balin returned the ring into the furnace, fed in more fuel, and worked the bellow while Dwalin went to fetch a new hammer. No words were exchanged in so doing, the brothers seemed to be in no need of any as they got in to the groove of their work.
For a length of time that blurred together, they went at it ceaselessly. Endeavors were made to strengthen the flames, to exchange damaged tools for unused ones, and repeatedly attempted to bludgeon the blasted ring into an unrecognizable hunk of metal.
Eventually it looked like their effort was on the verge of success as the tiniest trace of damage had appeared on the otherwise impeccable band of gold, only to find it was an illusion as Dwalin brought another sledgehammer to bear, the newest of the lot, relatively speaking, only to stare in horror as upon contact... the hammerhead splintered, fragmented, collapsed, then flew from the accessory with such speed that everyone ducked from the shower of broken fragments.
The ring, as it were, lay contemptuously on the anvil and taunted them with not even a sound but the resounding echo of their failure.
"Impossible..." Dwalin stared at the broken handle and dropped it.
"... As I feared." his older brother said gloomily, eyes lit with contempt for the damnable accessory, "We can not unmake this."
"You can't?" Bilbo asked with mounting panic, his expression frozen into one akin to battle shock from having resisted the temptation and allure of retrieving the ring throughout the process, plenty helped by her steadying hand upon the shoulder. "That can't be it... Erebor was our... my... last hope."
"I am sorry, lad." Balin said remorsefully as he with the tong picked up the ring and extended it to the hobbit, "This... ring... is an item most cursed, and where it can be unmade may only be where it was forged, the location of which is as unclear to us as the identity of the one who made them magical rings in the first, for such knowledge is no longer known to us."
"T-then..." he stuttered softly, tentatively accepting the strangely cool ring into his palm, "there's no choice but to give up?"
"No one's telling you to give up, lad." the wizened dwarf snapped, if kindly, "The knowledge you could not find here might well be found elsewhere. For now though, you should not delve into worries so raw when we may very well not survive the coming days."
The hobbit drooped his shoulders, returning the dread accessory to its pocket, "I suppose so..."
As she looked on, H'anigi felt like she should lend words of encouragement, of reassurance. None however left her lips, for what could truly be said to what they've learned here? Truth be told she wanted to stay no longer than it would take to conclude the current series of events she's gotten so involved in, yet felt compelled out of a sense of camaraderie and guilt to help Bilbo with his ring-related issue.
In such a manner did these interests collide that they tore her up deep inside.
"Can you not do something?" H'anigi whispered so softly that none of her words reached the companions, a hand placed on the tomestone she carried on her person, thinking of the device that hovered idly behind her.
Negative. Guidance Node replied to her query in the usual flat manner, lacking in interest as per the usual. It Is Bound To An Entity Of Immense Power. No Application Of Conventional Force Will Suffice.
And that sounded like far more than she cared to deal with. There must to be some other way to go about this. Yet no matter how hard she thought, she was stumped on the matter, and decidedly ultimately that she was for now better off taking Balin's advice, just like poor Bilbo would have to.
"Still," Bilbo said onto the old dwarf, "how can I not worry for the future beyond that?"
For some reason, that question struck H'anigi as quite nostalgic. Questions to that effect was a frequent one among the new meat who joined the pirate crew she used to be part of. An answer to which the Captain's first mate was more than willing to provide, in a manner of speaking. And she... was quite willing to emulate his example. "Then you won't mind," she thus interjected before Balin could answer, "if I put you through a little workout – just to keep you... preoccupied."
The hobbit, bless him, looked confused, "How's that going to help?"
"Trust me." the busty marauder smirked, "You won't even remember what you worried about for the duration."
"I..." he lifted a brow, "It's nothing too difficult, hm?"
"Nothing worse than I was put through when I just started out." her outward smirk did not change, but her mental one turned outright evil – though she did speak the truth.
"Oh... alright then."
"Trust me. You won't regret it."
OoOoO
Two days later... Bilbo most definitely regretted it.
Soon as they returned from the forges, H'anigi had finished up a mental draft of the training regimen she fully intended to put him through. It included such things as a back and forth dash to the mansion then back to the gates. Countless lifts, of both himself and various heavy objects. And similarly innumerable repetitions of stabs and swings of his short sword at a striking dummy. A routine of such exhaustive drills that he would have called it quits if it was not for the fact that his trainer put herself through the same.
At first it was just the two of them, but then a few of the dwarves decided to join in. A number that grew until a full dozen of their company were involved. Even Thorin eventually took part, at which point H'anigi toughened up the regimen to accommodate.
"Stamina is key." H'anigi called in-between breaths from the fore as they went on another marathon, its laps all the greater than previous runs because Balin – may his beard fall off for that – decided to provide her information on the mountain kingdom's layout, "No amount of skill will help you if you lose your wits and exhaustion takes you long before you run out of skulls to smash."
Prompt as a rooster in the morning they all shouted in an, "Aye!" of affirmation.
By then they've covered at least five kilometers worth of ground, and Bilbo was amazed that he still managed to keep going, though he supposed the long distances they crossed with few breaks, particularly when danger breathed down their collective necks, greatly helped. Still, he sweated from every pore like a stuck pig and panted from the effort of it.
"Up we go!" the miqo'te shouted as they approached another set of stairs, an awfully long one, "Climb! Climb! Climb, you bunch of oafs! No lazing about!"
She's really getting into it.
"Aye!"
If there was at least one piece of silver lining amidst all this effort, H'anigi fully spoke the truth of it when she said this would keep him from worrying. Forget about his concerns, he did not even have the time or energy to think. During their breaks he only managed to perform necessities that ended in him sleeping so steeply that he did not even dream.
Works as intended, I guess...
Unable to do much more than focus on putting one foot ahead of the other, Bilbo had no idea they crossed into familiar corridors not far from the main hall before he heard the voice of Bofur boom from far ahead, "Smoke rise from Dale!"
Instantly the group broke as frenzy took its individual components, Thorin now fully in the lead, "Have they sent an emissary?"
"They have!" Bofur's voice was a lot closer now, solemn in tone, "It's the bargeman."
"Brilliant." Glóin groaned not far behind.
Bilbo remembered Bard and sighed at how sour their parting was. However the imminent conversation between him and Thorin would develop, he imagined there would be a lot of bitterness. Still, he wanted to be there and see how the exchange goes... but his body was not like to last that long – an estimation proven true when sheer exhaustion caught up to him and he was forced to stop at the very foot of the outer walls, leaving him quite alone as everyone else dashed up the stairs.
Or, almost alone that is as H'anigi's shadow fell on him.
"Think there's a chance they'll come to some amiable agreement after all?" the busty marauder asked, smiling soberly as she with the back of a hand wiped a streak of sweat from her forehead.
"I'd be surprised if it ended on a note of hostility just a step from being naked."
"Heh." she chuckled humorlessly, "Take a nap then. I'll fill you in when you wake up."
A huge part of him did want nothing more than to sleep. Still, Bilbo shook his head and waved her away. "No, I'll listen in from here. Go to them."
H'anigi nodded once, slowly, and walked off.
Once alone, Bilbo strained to listen only to somewhere down the line get the sense that time had passed. All he knew was that he closed his eyes, and opened them to find everyone off the wall, expressions grim on those in sight. Bilbo's confusion lasted only for a moment. He needed not hear a word. He already knew the outcome, and what needed to happen next.
OoOoO
Upon his removal from Dol Guldur's shadowy influence, recovery was only a matter of a few hours. With a new staff soon in hand and a steed, Gandalf left Radagast's care with great haste and urgency. Since then he had traversed forested lands and open plains with barely a stop, and then only so his newly supplied horse could regain her strength.
Along the way he found the ruin of Lake-town, and the ongoing labor to build it anew. Gandalf stopped briefly to offer questions, for the number of people present seemed rather small. Either they suffered very dire losses, or some decided to head elsewhere, the latter which turned to be the case though the loss of life were indeed great.
One man they named as King Bard had taken a portion to Dale in the company of the Elven King's army.
Much has changed, but it changed his destination not. Gandalf made for the Lonely Mountain next with greater haste than before. If not taken hold of quickly, this situation could very easily lead to ill ends.
After a seemingly endless traverse across sloping and hilly terrain, Gandalf finally arrived and found smoke rise from the ruins of Dale, filled with life for the first time in nearly two hundred years. A development that held great promise for the future, provided the following days develop favorably.
Some few people both young and old watched curiously as what seemed to them like no more than an old bearded fellow rode into the town, and searched pointedly for the Elven King. A search that eventually led him into the plaza where dozens of men in armor trained with weapons scrounged from Dale's old arsenal while a number of guardsmen watched and through shouts lent instructions, while craftsmen worked the town's old forges and others carried forth great stacks of arrows, and weapons and armor to supply further volunteers. Not a great army by any means, but was compensated handsomely by the far greater elven presence.
From the plaza he could see Erebor's gate, its broken entrance shored up with a tall wall of rock and stone.
No battle has started yet, which came to Gandalf as a cause for great relief, but if he did not act one would take place perhaps as soon as on the day of tomorrow.
"Oi! You! Pointy hat!"
Rarely was he addressed so. Gandalf took the novelty for what it was and dismounted from his steed with a chant for her to go to where the men are keeping their mounts and get some rest before he hefted the staff that already felt familiar in his wrinkled hand as he turned to the greasy-haired oaf dressed in somewhat bedraggled finery. High in position perhaps, but appeared unloved judging by how people looked at him.
"Yes, you!" the man approached with a uniquely insolent swagger, "We don't want no tramps, beggars, nor vagabonds here... We got enough trouble without the likes of you. So off you go!" he waved dismissively, "Get on your horse and go."
"Who's in charge here?" Gandalf demanded.
At his call, a taller man with more a respectable appearance stepped forth from the masses of troops. Much more impressive a fellow than the other if he was to judge, "Who is asking?"
"Gandalf the Grey." he introduced himself curtly, "King Bard I presume?"
"I am he, but not a King." the dark-haired fellow sighed, "It is a fool idea that has taken root. I merely lead because the Master fled when our need was most dire. I know you not, but what business do you have with me?"
"You and the Elven King both." Gandalf stated with great weight in his words, acknowledging that this man probably knew nothing of wizards beyond myth, if at all, "We have much to discuss, for there is more danger ahead than you may realize."
Bard by his expression looked dubious as to such a claim, but slowly nodded and waved him with – once he had waved off the buffoon. Together they passed through the town until they arrived at an ostentatiously orange-colored tent. Bard needed not even introduce him as they passed the guards and came to stand face to face with the Elven King himself who appeared completely unsurprised by his coming.
"Mithrandir." King Thranduil greeted.
"Thranduil, King of Mirkwood." Gandalf bowed curtly, "I have come with dark tidings."
"Which is nothing new by itself." the Elven King said plainly, "As a rule the coming of Wizards is usually accompanied by the mutterings of doom and ill news. What manner of horror have you come to inform us of this time?"
Gandalf had to concede how often that's the case, "Orcs, armies of them, are on the move. Fighters bred for war. Our Enemy has called forth his full strength from across the region."
Recognition dawned on Thranduil as he took this in, "Why show his hand now?"
"Because we forced him." Gandalf stated firmly as he walked toward the tent's other exit, which ended in a balcony that overlooked the gates of Erebor. Thranduil and Bard followed suit, "We forced him when the Company of Thorin set out to reclaim their homeland. Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His Master seeks control of the mountain, not just for the treasure within... but for where it lies, its strategic positioning. It's a gateway to reclaim the lands of Angmar in the North. If that fell Kingdom should rise again... Rivendell, Lórien, the Shire, even Gondor itself, would fall."
At this point Bard had turned very solemn and not a little pale as the tapestry of this scenario turned far greater in scope than what he may have previously thought, "We knew that others would also turn their gaze to Erebor and its treasures, but this..."
"It changes nothing, for there is nothing to fear." Thranduil dismissed, largely unconcerned, "If there are truly armies of orcs on the march, where are they? My scouts have seen the routes to Gundabad, and have seen no sign of such in any shape or form."
"Azog, the orc granted leadership of Sauron's army, is canny beyond most of his wretched kind." Gandalf explained, veiling his frustration at what was going to be a hard sell. Thranduil is strongly opinionated far as elves go, "To evade early notice he is like to take alternate routes not readily apparent to us."
Again the Elven King appeared unconcerned if not wholly unwilling to believe. Still, Gandalf pressed on and decided for now to omit all information concerning Aetherytes, knowing full well that he fought hard enough an uphill battle as it is, one that might very well decide the fate of Middle-Earth.
OoOoO
After the brief negotiation had been carried out, where Bard issued a surprisingly heartfelt attempt to reason with Thorin – which ended unsurprisingly on a sour note, it did not take long before a plan was worked out with Bilbo who excused himself promptly and left for the mansion with the excuse of not feeling too well, when in actuality he went to collect the Arkenstone before he would make a covert return.
H'anigi on her side remained with the dwarves who quickly came to an agreement as to guard assignment, with a healthy time gap on when to switch that she was perfectly fine with along with her turn placed late in the evening, which she was also fine with.
So when the time came and she climbed to the top of the stairs to take over for a grateful Kili, she needed only stay put for a short while, glaring into the night that was only broken by the plentiful lights kept active in Dale, before Bilbo made his reappearance, complete with a round bulge in his pocket and a bundle of rope he had already attached to a nearby merlon.
"Is the coast clear?" Bilbo inquired in a hushed tone.
She glanced toward the flickering light caused by the campfire erected in the main hall for any sign of movement and was satisfied to find none, "It is." she replied in the affirmative, "If we're going to do this, we better start now before the next change of guards."
"We're doing it." Bilbo nodded almost eagerly and tossed the rope past the edge, cautious enough to pull on and make sure the rope wouldn't unravel before he without ado climbed past the parapet and made his descent, clutching the rope with all his might as he went.
H'anigi waited until the hobbit reached the 'moat' of rubble before she too climbed down and leaped onto solid ground from where they together made the straightest beeline possible for Dale, given the plain's deficiency in terms of potential cover, and hoped that no sentries currently watched – something proven true as they neared then arrived at the town without being shot or shouted at. No one among the hundreds strong army apparently expected to get jumped on by a group of warriors that numbered less than a score.
Thanks to this shortcoming in Dale's defenses, entering the town was in terms of overall difficulty a simple affair.
Despite the lack of sentries though, many people were still up and about. Bilbo was about to blend in with the shadows when H'anigi caught him by the shoulder, "We need not sneak our way from here."
Bilbo pointed over her shoulder, "Yes we do."
Ah yes, that... H'anigi acknowledged as she turned to the diminutive Allagan Bit. It had in all honesty slipped from her mind amidst all this excitement, yet its presence may actually come in handy. "Fly away." H'anigi placed a hand on the tomestone and quietly, experimentally even, issued the order. "Stay out of sight till I say otherwise."
It complied immediately and flew up till it was swallowed by the night. "Now we're set."
"We're lucky no one saw that." Bilbo sighed as they walked the streets, following her suggestion though they did avoid what guard posts there are as well as any large crowds.
H'anigi shrugged, "Even if they saw it, who'd think of it as anything else but a large bird?" and obliquely watched with interest as a bunch of kids who should have hit the sack by now ran past, screeching in laughter, their furious mother or caretaker not far behind. Twelve willing, that'll be me in a few years time... though I'll make sure to run a tighter schedule.
With all the talk in the air about dwarves, no one really paid the lone hobbit and miqo'te in their midst much attention even if a few looks were indeed thrown her way – curiosity mostly. Still, when the crowds grew too thick, Bilbo took them through the closest alley to get out of dodge. A progress by means of stealth through concealment and plain sight that brought them deep into town without once rousing suspicion.
A trip that finally paid off when Bilbo suddenly pointed out two who stood against the backdrop of a bright orange tent. Bard was there, conversing with... Gandalf. A conversation that turned to be a soft-worded argument as they approached.
"Do you agree? Does the gold mean so much to you?" Gandalf demanded in a low voice that carried even through the clamor of marching feet coming from nearby troops practicing their coordination, "Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?"
"It won't come to that." Bard assured, "This is a battle they cannot win."
"That won't stop them!" Bilbo interjected loudly with the fullest of confidence as they crossed the final distance till they were just beyond arm's reach, "You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They will fight to the death."
Gandalf beheld them both, surprised, "Bilbo Baggins. H'anigi Tohl. I did not expect to see you so soon."
"We expected you a whole lot sooner." H'anigi remarked, palms on hips, "Did you forget something at home and went to fetch it somewhere down the line?"
Slight amusement tinged the wizard's expression, "I had to tend to matters of great importance, and was unavoidably... detained."
"Broke in somewhere and got thrown into a cage?"
"Close enough." Gandalf smiled, his gaze somewhat distant in the question's wake, "Now then, as for your presence here. I doubt you came here just to exchange pleasantries."
"Yeah," Bilbo admitted, "we need to speak to whoever is in charge here. It's important and we don't have much time."
"That can be arranged." Bard said and motioned for them to follow.
Gandalf went first, and was joined by Bilbo next. H'anigi was last to follow suit, but undeniably received the most attention by the regally dressed elf who at her entrance rose from the chair he had previously been comfortably seated in, transfixed. She was likewise held on by his intensive gaze before he realized there are yet more elves here she recognized. The only elf she knew by name, and the male she only knew the face and part of the name of.
She offered a small smile to Tauriel who replied with a slight nod so to escape the notice of the others. As for the male who she saw Tauriel walk with back in Lake-town, he too stared.
"What is this?" the lordly one demanded.
"H'anigi Tohl, elf master." H'anigi plainly stated, arms loosely folded.
"That voice!" the familiar-faced elf exclaimed, looking from his female compatriot and onto her, "You were the one who held Tauriel hostage!?"
Gandalf looked to her and then to Bilbo who shrugged, "It's a long story."
"You're the one who bested and captured my Captain of the Guard?" the lordly elf asked and glared at Tauriel who shrank back slightly, "Was there any time you intended to tell us you were outfought by this... this... What is she?"
"A miqo'te, King of Mirkwood." the old wizard was the one to answer, "A denizen from a realm far removed who came to Arda through unlucky happenstance."
"A realm far removed, came to Arda?" the familiar-faced elf sputtered, "What are you saying?"
"You did not tell them anything?" H'anigi asked, her attention on Gandalf.
"Because I was hard enough pressed to even convince him on a more local matter." the wizard noted, a glance thrown to the lordly elf next, "No offense intended, lord Thranduil."
"I am sure." Thranduil responded icily.
"Fair enough." the marauder said loudly, "But last I checked we did not risk ourselves by coming here just to make me an exhibit, even if I do some level of male attention. Bilbo, take it away."
"Yeah." Bilbo awkwardly nodded as he was finally focused on, all eyes following him closely as he walked to the lone round table placed in the middle of the tent, and placed onto it a deceptively heavy bundle of cloth he unwrapped to reveal the object within that turned most of the aforementioned eyes immediately wide.
Thranduil was the first to break the silence as he gazed deeply into the globe of starlight and rainbows, unable yet again to conceal his unbridled shock and fascination, "The Heart of the Mountain!"
"... The King's Jewel." Bard said breathlessly as he joined the elves in shared awe of the gem, "And worth a King's ransom..."
"H'anigi," Gandalf lent her a look, "is this...?"
"No, it's not an Aetheryte." she answered, "Not by itself in any case. It is, specifically speaking, the missing component of a dormant Aetheryte we found deep in Erebor's mines. How we uncovered it is a tale for another time."
"And what exactly is an Aetheryte?" the familiar-faced male elf no one had introduced to her so far asked.
"Most plainly told," Gandalf mused, "it's a form of crystal construct that allow instantaneous travel – provided your destination has an Aetheryte of its own. Aetherytes are not of this world, and many may be strewn across it."
H'anigi shook her head, "There's no may about it. An ancient nation of incalculable might once plotted a global invasion of Middle-Earth and placed many Aetherytes across its width in order to facilitate it. But due to circumstances the invasion never materialized. Now the Aetherytes are just relics, up for grabs by anyone who would like to use them."
"Relics now greatly coveted by the Enemy." he looked from her to Thranduil meaningfully, then back at her as something occurred to him, "Do you not need this to return home?"
"Yeah, but I can wait a little bit longer. This is a loan made with minimizing strife in mind."
"Thorin desire the Arkenstone above all else." Bilbo rejoined, his statement delivered strongly, "In exchange for its return he will, surely, give you what you're owed. There will be no need for war."
With this new information in mind, Bard and Thranduil exchanged glances. Now all that remained was to provide a further incentive to avoid conflict.
"Come..." H'anigi whispered commandingly before she spread her arms, "Also, just to note, if you push for war and try to take Erebor by force... the resulting butcher's bill will be a lot greater than you believe."
"You expect slightly better than a dozen combatants to exact grievous losses upon an army such as this?" Bard asked, somewhat incredulous, "It cannot be-"
All of them grew quiet as the Allagan Bit flew in at a placid pace and came to hover at what has come to be the usual place, "Now you may be wondering what this might be. This thing is, perhaps unimaginatively, referred to as a Bit. It's one of several dozen similar contraptions that acts as the Aetheryte's line of defense."
"Defense?" snorted the familiar-faced elf, less than impressed by its seemingly ungainly appearance. "That is supposed to be a warrior?"
"I wouldn't underestimate it if I were you." Bilbo offered his input solemnly with just a small tinge of fear in his tone, "Those were the things that chased Smaug from Erebor. I saw with my own eyes as they shot what I can only describe as magic upon the dragon, and effortlessly cut deeply into it like hot knife through butter. I am sure that if Smaug had not let cowardice convince him to flee, he would have been killed by them."
"Not one was lost in the process." H'anigi continued, keeping her face straight, "All of them are now beyond the gate, and will react poorly to any attempted intrusion. They're the trump card of Erebor's defense in short. Yours is the Arkenstone with which you may force negotiation and strike a bargain."
"If they have weapons of such power," Bard angrily started to ask, "would not Thorin dispatch them to have the Arkenstone retrieved?"
"Thorin is not in command of them, so that won't happen."
"Enough." Thranduil commanded as he sat down, a hand placed on his forehead like he had developed a migraine, "We thank you for this knowledge, this boon, and this warning. Make a show of force we will, but we will attempt what you ask – though I fear Oakenshield will not allow for any bargain."
"I'm aware of it. Ever since we entered the mountain he has been… difficult." Bilbo told them soberly, "Still, it is my hope that he'll see reason."
"Dwarves are stubborn."
"Stubborn. Yes... they are also pig-headed, and have the worst manners possible. But they are also kind, brave, and loyal to a fault. I have grown quite fond of them, and want to save them however I can… along with everyone else here."
OoOoO
With his selfless act, Bilbo had fully cemented himself in the hearts of even those who had no previous knowledge of him. And with the miqo'te at his back he had managed to convince Thranduil not to seek conflict with the dwarves, a feat he himself failed at for much of the day and evening's worth of argument.
Gandalf took the development for the good it was.
And with the meeting soon concluded he led Bilbo and H'anigi from the tent, noting with amusement on the side on how King Thranduil had watched the miqo'te and her swishing bushy tail as they left, his countenance lit by curiosity he could not for the time being satisfy as more important matters beckoned.
But with that out of the way: "Bilbo, you must leave on the morrow."
"What?" Bilbo quacked.
"Get as far away from here as possible."
"I'm not leaving the company."
"There is no company. Not anymore."
"Not your decision to make, wizard." H'anigi interjected wryly, pointedly so, "You who left it so long ago."
"Take it into perspective. Imagine what Thorin would do if he found out what you two have done."
"He won't."
"Sufficiently canny you may very well be." Gandalf replied in kind, "Bilbo on the other hand..."
Bilbo glared with surprising strength, "I intend to volunteer my share of the treasure to pay for the Arkenstone, Gandalf. Without me on that wall to make that sacrifice, Thorin's greed may very well override what is sensible."
A sort of stillness settled at those words, born from astonishment. "My dear Bilbo." Gandalf whispered quietly, "How very much you have changed from the hobbit we brought from Hobbiton."
"Courage was not the only thing I found along the way," Bilbo nodded, his expression turning milder, "and the journey is not finished yet."
Gandalf remembered that small exchange, even if he suspected the hobbit was hiding something from him. "I suppose it isn't." he deeply sighed and turned away, "Very well. Go then, and be safe."
"Thank you. We'll talk again once all of this is over."
To this H'anigi quipped, her voice already distant; "If we last past the orcs, that is."
"… How did y-" Gandalf whipped about after a moment of astonished silence, only to find the two already gone from sight. Flummoxed, he stared at where they previously stood and wondered where in the world he said anything about orcs before, during, or after the meeting. It did not make sense for them to know there's another army approaching.
"Mithrandir."
During his troubled rumination, a tall elf woman, Thranduil's Captain of the Guard herself, had come from the tent with an expression strangely meek. "Tauriel, yes?"
"I am she."
Gandalf nodded gravely, "Have you come bearing a message from your King?"
"No, I come by my own choice." Tauriel replied as she… fidgeted? "I have a confession to make, and share this with no one but you."
Author's Note: Not too happy about this chapter turned out, but it'll have to suffice. Anyway, in the next chapter the Battle of the Five Armies will begin.
Answer to comments:
Merlinius Ambrosius: Oh I did enjoy the patch very much. And the Ascians' involvement might turn for the truly devilish indeed.
Wolfund: Balin's wise, but not all-knowing. That doesn't mean he's doomed to die in this story though.
Kairitrion Cerulean: Thank you.
