21.
"Thorin, I'm telling you, I don't like this at all," Dwalin hissed through clenched teeth as he leaned closer to his friend. The warrior's eyes were trained on the Mirkwood prince who walked at the front of their little convoy, with Celegorm at his side. "Why don't we at least bind his hands? He's bloody free to do whatever he wants and he's armed too! We can't watch him all the time. I still believe this is a trap!"
Thorin wished he could have said otherwise, but he harbored his own suspicions as the day grew and a bright sun warmed them, drying their sodden clothes. He disliked having Thranduil's son in their midst even more than he had ever wished to be rid of the other Elves, but he had too few arguments in the face of how helpful the prince had been.
Thanks to Legolas, they had horses to carry the weakest among them while they recovered from the nightmarish barrel ride. All four Elves had dismounted and helped Bombur, Oin, Ori and Balin atop the tall beasts, leading them by the reins and doing everything to assuage the misgivings of their dizzy and uncomfortable riders. Everyone else had to carry their weight on foot and there had been no time to cast off their wet clothes, which made the advance that much more difficult. Thorin had shed his matted fur coat and it lay draped on the back of an Elven steed, where it would hopefully dry rather than drag its owner down even further.
After nibbling on a little bit of waybread and some honey-biscuits that the Elves had offered, they'd picked themselves up and continued the journey east toward Lake Town, via a much more stable route than the accursed river. To the best of what Ambarussa and Celegorm could tell, no Woodland army rushed after them, but it would find a very clear trail if Thranduil did send soldiers to retrieve his prisoners. With few weapons save those that the Elves wielded and Orcrist back in his possession, Thorin did not know how it would go if they were surrounded again, but he certainly did not mean to sell his freedom cheap. He would fight and he would not allow Thranduil's cronies to drag him back to the dungeons.
But the problem of Legolas remained and gave the Dwarves no peace as they put more miles between themselves and the prince's home. Dwalin was right, it was unthinkable to allow Thranduil's son weapons and freedom among them, even if he had shown them friendship. Perhaps the other Elves found it easier to forget that they too had been bound and dragged to before Thranduil by the same prince that had since turned into their savior. But Celegorm had sternly forbidden the smallest act of aggression against his new friend and Thorin suspected there was more to it than met the eye. Still, he could not argue, as Legolas had offered even further assistance.
The company meant to reach Lake Town as fast as they could, believing that they would be safer there and Thranduil would not risk an open conflict with the townspeople. Of course, given the history of prosperous trade and alliance between the Men of Esgaroth and the Woodland Elves, nothing guaranteed that the company would not be cast out as soon as demands for it were made. But Thorin hoped that the Men would also remember their old alliance with Erebor as well and recognize the line of Durin when it walked among them once more. He had only seen Lake Town once and he doubted that anyone still lived to recognize him personally, but as returning King Under the Mountain, Thorin believed he would wield enough authority to be treated kindly and provided with what he needed for the next leg of his journey. For that, Thranduil's son had offered his own purse as well as his influence with the Master of Lake Town.
'A small compensation for depriving you of your freedom and the discomfort infringed upon you in my home,' the prince had said when met with Thorin's scowling refusal. It was too good to be true and Dwalin had a valid point, Legolas could not have stopped being his father's son and an officer in his ranks overnight. Something was amiss and in spite of the overt friendliness, they needed to remain wary of the Woodland Elf.
'Regardless of how much it looks like Tyelkormo has him wrapped around his little finger,' Thorin smirked to himself, watching the two fair-haired Elves as they chatted in their own tongue.
"This is no laughing matter," Dwalin elbowed him none-too-gently. "I don't trust any of them."
"I know, my friend," Thorin sighed, running his fingers through his mane of tangled hair." But for now, there is not much we can do except press on for Lake Town and keep our eyes open."
"I'll sleep better if that brat is bound and gagged... if I sleep at all," Dwalin retorted. "He ought to be treated as a prisoner no matter how much courtesy he shows us now. This is hardly the time to be gallant to our enemies."
"He may yet be useful," Thorin repeated what Celegorm had told him earlier, when the Dwarf had voiced his own misgivings.
...
That day came to a close in a red and glorious sunset that painted the western sky in a blanket of vivid colors. Within earshot, the Forest River tumbled carelessly toward the confluence with the Running where they both spilled into the Long Lake and only one ribbon of water emerged to wet the southern vastness of Rovanion. Frogs and crickets and all manner of other creatures sang a song of sleep that lulled the weary travelers, but they could not settle in the tall reeds like so many birds coming home to roost. Neither the river bank, nor the drying grasses offered much shelter and although the edge of the forest could still be clearly descried in the waning light, going back into Mirkwood was not an option. After the terrible experiences they had barely survived, not even the Elves wished to return to Mirkwood and Thorin himself thought that if he never heard about that accursed place again it would be too soon.
But another notable landmark had drawn the eyes of Thorin's companions throughout the day. Northward and looming closer with each mile they left behind their tired feet, the Dwarves saw their ultimate destination. The Lonely Mountain rose from the endless grasslands, piercing the horizon defiantly and stealing Thorin's breath away when he glimpsed upon it for the first time in longer than he cared to remember.
There it was... his long lost home, looking so serene and absolutely immovable under the passing of time and the cares of the world. The solitary peak and its five spurs that seemed to dig into the earth like so many fingers had also held Thorin's heart in their relentless grasp. He had finally returned to the home of his forefathers and for a moment, relief so potent filled the Dwarf that his head swam and it had nothing to do with being trapped in a rolling barrel. But wisdom prevailed over his instinct to simply run the distance to that beloved mountain and Thorin struggled to bring himself under control.
The others whispered and chatted excitedly, walking with heads turned not at their backs, where immediate danger lay, but toward the legendary Erebor. No amount of chiding and cautioning them to keep their mouths shut while Thranduil's son still walked with them prevailed and, in the end, Thorin decided it was best to refrain from dampening their spirits. Mahal knew, they had been dampened enough already. As for himself, the Dwarf King knew he could not afford to hope and day-dream and gaze longingly into the distance. He wrenched his eyes away from the mountain and willed himself to keep his thoughts from turning astray.
Long after nightfall, the company trudged on until even the strongest of them felt that they could not put one foot in front of the other anymore. They simply threw themselves down on the grass with assorted groans of exhaustion, while the four unwilling riders stood guard. Amrod and Amras offered to stalk back and shoot something for a very late dinner, but lighting a fire was unwise and Celegorm said they should be as quiet and invisible as possible, in case Elven scouts had been sent ahead to find them. Of course, even Thorin knew that staying hidden from the peerless trackers of Mirkwood was an exercise in futility, but he was too tired to argue with the Elf.
The Dwarf King went to retrieve his coat and intercepted the Mirkwood prince as Legolas was quietly tending to the horses. He would have walked them to the river for a drink if Amras had allowed it. But the taller Elf stood aside, arms crossed over his chest and surveying the prince with a frown that Thorin felt more than he could actually see. He was somewhat relieved to know that at least one of his Elven companions had not been swayed to trust the son of his enemy as much as his older brother seemed to.
With Celegorm having melted into the night for a quick inspection of their surroundings, Thorin decided to approach Legolas and speak to him. As the prince gave Thorin back his coat, the Dwarf bid him to step aside for a private word. Amras cleared his throat and Dwalin shifted restlessly, but Thorin motioned both of them to stand down. He wrapped himself in the coat and lowered himself on the grass, willing himself to keep his hands where Legolas could see them, rather than on any weapon, either visible or hidden.
The Woodland Elf did the same, crossing his legs as he sat in a position that he would have found it difficult to leap from. He rested his open palms on his knees and offered Thorin a veritable picture of peacefulness and good intentions. If Legolas had not been who he was and did not hail from a traitorous bunch of cowards, Thorin might have been tempted to take him at face value. But he knew that no amount of service and compensation could ever make him sympathize with Thranduil's spawn, even if Legolas appeared to be vastly different from his father.
The Dwarf fixed Legolas with an inscrutable look for long moments, aware that the Elf's eyes perceived everything better than his own. But Legolas did not flinch, nor did he shift under the scrutiny, merely waiting for Thorin to speak his mind.
"Tell me, Legolas Thranduillion, if I am to believe that you truly wish to aid us, why does the son of a king betray his father in favor of not one but two of his enemies?" Thorin said at last, his voice low and barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to drive the point across.
"I am a traitor in your eyes, then? And in many others, I suppose," Legolas sighed wearily. "I will not argue against it, though, for I have gone against my father's word and failed his trust. But your imprisonment was an act of gratuitous unkindness, although not entirely unwarranted by the way you lashed out against my Sire."
Thorin issued an impatient sound and more than one scathing reply bubbled on his lips.
"Nay, do not be angry, it is not my place to judge the rightness or error of your enmity against my people. As such, I did not meddle one way or the other in your incarceration or father's plans to extract information from you. Truthfully, I would not have set you free, but I did know about the little Hobbit and his ingenious plan. As you can see, I have done nothing to hinder it and for that, I will suffer the repercussions. But my greatest displeasure came from the treatment your Elven companions have received at my father's orders. No Elf should ever be imprisoned and mistreated by another Elf, no matter who he is or used to be. Father does not know what he has done, not truly. He did not weigh the consequences of his actions but rather, he let passion rule over reason. But I trust that one day, he will understand that I have done what is best not only for myself, but also for our people," Legolas said, leaving Thorin to a long moment of surprised silence.
"For your people? You fear these Elves so much that you would do your utmost to garner their favor?" Thorin asked, guessing what Legolas hinted at.
"It is not fear. But knowing who they are makes it very unwise to try an keep three under lock while the other five can burst upon you at any given time and demand an explanation with their swords. I wish my father had seen that. But in his stead, I have acted as I deemed fit."
"Knowing who they are, hmm? I see your point, prince. But that does not stop you from actively seeking to endear yourself to the blond one. We have all seen it. Beyond whatever duty to your people you speak of, a much more personal reason drives you," Thorin said breezily, wishing he had more light to search the Elf's face by.
"What of it?" the prince suddenly hissed.
"What business of mine is it, you mean?" Thorin willed himself not to grow tense and reach for a weapon, even if the Elf before him grew enraged. "It is my business, although I dearly wish it were not. But I am saddled with these Elves until the end of my journey and there is nothing more I can do about it at this point. They have proven themselves to me, but if you or Tyelkormo believe that I will allow a son of Thranduil to meddle in my affairs beyond this trek to Esgaroth, you are mistaken."
The Elf lowered his head and took his time before giving a reply. He was ill-pleased, but not surprised and his words proved it.
"I understand, Thorin Oakenshield. But you must also understand that whatever happens so close to our borders concerns me and my people as well. You mean to stir a beast that has lain dormant for decades. That will affect us all."
"I mean to destroy the beast, if it still lives," Thorin shot back throatily.
"And I wish you all the good fortune in the world in your attempt. It would be well if we had a prosperous Dwarf kingdom beyond our borders, rather than a dragon. And if you succeed, that concerns my people also."
"You say this because you wish to restore the alliance between your house and mine? Is that it?" Thorin tried to follow the prince's line of reasoning. He began to see that there was more to Thranduil's son than the smitten little Elf he let himself be perceived as. On the contrary, the prince showed thoughtfulness and diplomacy and ambition that made him a worthier adversary than his father.
"Perhaps," Legolas admitted. "If you survive to be King under the Mountain, perhaps, in time, the wrongs that turn our people against each other shall be redressed and we could deal with each other on friendlier terms. I know that seems inconceivable at this point and you may not find it in your heart to move past the grudge that you harbor against us, but with time and wisdom...," Legolas let the unspoken words float between them.
Thorin pressed his lips into a thin and tense line, arguing with himself against the wish to simply dismiss the prince. There would never be anything else but burning hatred between himself and the Woodland King and Legolas harbored no more than a fool's hope. However, his present situation did not allow Thorin to make even more enemies and he thought to bide his time until the company arrived safely to Esgaroth.
"At the very least, I would have no open enmity and war between my people and yours. If you do reclaim your kingdom, I do not forget that east of here dwell your fierce kinsmen in the Iron Hills," Legolas said, as though he could perceive the train of Thorin's thoughts. "To avoid conflict, I am willing to help you now and I have not lied when I offered my support in your dealings with the Men of Lake Town. Such as it is, you will have it."
"What of your father? Will he not send for you? Or come to retrieve you himself? Does that not make you a greater liability to me than your aid may be worth?"
"My father will come," Legolas admitted, his voice low and much harsher than before. "But he does not rule me in all my choices. He will not come with violence against the Men who have only ever been our friends and allies. He is not that unwise. And before my people seek to retrieve me, I hope that others arrive to Esgaroth. I would meet them first."
"The rest of Tyelkormo's kinsmen, you mean?" Thorin smiled briefly, as he too wished for the same and hoped that his unwanted detour through Mirkwood had given the Elves time to journey north and catch up with them. "Tyelkormo's father, perhaps?" the Dwarf nodded in understanding.
"I would see him, yes," Legolas whispered.
"What of my father?" Celegorm materialized before them without so much as a hiss in the grasses.
"The prince here tells me that he wishes to meet your father," Thorin said, pleased that he had not even blinked at the Elf's sudden appearance. He'd gotten used to their unnerving stealth and no word ever being safe from their ears.
"I can't think of anyone who wouldn't," Legolas gazed at the other Elf with an open smile.
"To be honest, I too look forward to seeing your kinsmen again," the Dwarf added.
"Awww, you miss him, don't you?" Celegorm cocked his head to one side and grinned broadly.
"No, I miss poking fun at your father and watching him froth at the mouth as he tries to bite back scathing replies, that's what I miss," Thorin smirked in his beard.
"Well… it is rather amusing to see him let you get away with that," Celegorm chuckled. "Worry not, you will be reunited before long. Father and my brothers are near. I have no doubt that we will see each other in the upcoming days."
"You… sense them?" Legolas rose from his uncomfortable position and left Thorin to peer up at their faintly luminous faces.
"They are coming. I have no doubt about it. Whether from the south or from inside Mirkwood, I cannot tell," Celegorm answered. "What I can tell and it leaves me puzzled is the lack of pursuit on our trail. Think you that your father means not to follow? Perhaps he knows that we are not prisoners he would want to keep under lock for too long?"
"He will come," Legolas whispered, averting his eyes as though ashamed of it.
"Then we should rest and save our strength this night. Lake Town is still a day away and we start off at dawn. Perhaps sooner. Take first watch with me?" Celegorm asked Legolas, causing the prince to smile softly and agree immediately. "Oh… I've been meaning to say something while spying on your conversation, Thorin. If Legolas offers you the option of peace with Mirkwood, it would be wise to take it. Even Thranduil will see the wisdom of this and sue for fairer relations with your kingdom, when it knows glory far greater than ever before."
Thorin's eyebrows rose and he resisted the urge to groan. Had that big blockhead learned nothing of the bad blood that poisoned both Elves and Dwarves against each other in that part of the world? Still, Celegorm's confidence that Erebor would be a glorious Dwarf Kingdom once more put a small smile on the Dwarf's face. Surely, that one and the rest of the brood meant to involve themselves in his business even after the Mountain was reclaimed. Fëanor had dropped poorly veiled hints that he was interested in restoration work and if he really was who Thorin believed him to be, then the greatest craftsman of all Elfkind would certainly have work in Erebor.
Chuckling to himself and returning to his own kinsmen, Thorin couldn't help wondering exactly what he had done to find himself at the receiving end of so many Elvish offers for help. And especially how much he would end up having to pay for it.