Elves quickly jumped out of the way when Dáin, with a wild laugh, parted them with his team of four rams. He tugged them to a stop in front of Thranduil's tent, where perched side by side in the rear of the wagon were two barrels containing wine and ale.
Several guards rushed to the scene when Thranduil stepped from his tent, eyes for the barrels alone. "I moved my barrel out of the way. Bring them," he commanded his guards. Two each grabbed an end and easily lifted the several hundred pound barrels. Thranduil instructed them to place each barrel on the rack side by side and they rolled together, sinking the legs a couple inches into the dirt before stabilizing.
"Allow me," Dáin offered and Thranduil acquiesced by stepping back. Dáin took a metal spigot and hammer. With a mighty blow to the end, he punched a hole and with a couple turns of the spigot, it was sealed against the wood. A quick punch to the identical barrel and both were ready to fill bottles, pitchers or mugs. Dáin sauntered back to the wagon and tossed the mallet in the bed.
Thranduil followed and inquired, "Where is Thráin?"
"I dropped Thráin an Balin at the medical tent ta check on Thorin. They'll be along." He issued an order to the dwarf who came with him. "Go back ta collecting our dead."
Celeborn and Glorfindel parted on each side of the departing wagon as they rode up on horses and Celeborn addressed Thranduil, "The boys are riding towards Gundabad to slay survivors. They should return in a few days. I'll stay until they are safely back."
"Good, I need you in the meeting for input," Thranduil replied happily.
Celeborn swung down and Glorfindel took his horse to the area they staked a claim nearby to graze their mounts.
"Good afternoon, my Lords." Gandalf greeted them heartedly as he strode up. "I have looked in on Dale. They took many losses among their men and left many a woman in need. I was hoping to add a side trade on behalf of the good people so they can be self-sufficient in a year. The farms need to be rebuilt and seed procured."
"Where is the bargeman turned king?" Thranduil didn't trust this visit alone wasn't accidental, and by the slight guilty look the wizard cast at him, knew he was spot on.
"Overseeing the burying of his dead and holding funerals, like we all should be doing today instead of bartering for gold and blankets." Gandalf dropped his pretense. "I know you wish to depart, Thranduil, but they are in severe need."
"Let the dwarves assist." Thranduil entered his tent with his followers.
"They are undermanned for a kingdom the size of Erebor. We need a steady stream of supplies coming up from the south." Gandalf watched as Thranduil filled a bottle from a barrel he never saw before.
Thranduil poured several long stemmed glasses while Elrond, Thráin and Balin stepped inside. Elrond was shoved abruptly aside when a golden whirlwind stopped directly in front of Thranduil. Erestor followed at a slower pace, but swiftly enough not to miss the show.
Glorfindel snatched a glass from Thranduil's hand and sniffed the bouquet. "It might be poisoned; can't trust dwarves. Allow me." Glorfindel took a large gulp and savored the aged wine with his eyes closed and blessed contentment on his face. He opened one eye. "I need a larger sample." He downed the glass and held it out for a refill.
"Well?" Thranduil asked close to Glorfindel's face.
"I may move to Erebor until all barrels of wine are depleted." Glorfindel took his full glass to a safer spot.
"With you in residence, five years and they'd be wine paupers," Elrond declared and accepted his own glass.
"Not my fault you don't buy enough wine," Glorfindel complained. "This is almost as good as the table wine in Aman, although not aged as long."
Celeborn took his own sip and then drained half the glass. "King Thráin, I wish to do business with dwarves after all."
"I propose we wait until our inventory is done." Thráin tasted his wine for the value of a barrel. "Just so ye all know, the price of ah barrel just doubled."
Elrond looked at Erestor and raised his eyebrows.
"He's locked into seventy-two barrels to us or we go to war and take it." Erestor knew what his lord was after.
"This won't be table wine," Elrond declared.
"Of course not; it's my private reserves," Glorfindel added.
Elrond sighed and looked at Thráin, who was enjoying watching Elrond interact with his advisors. "I propose a trade for twenty barrels a year."
"Nay, I'll only part with ten barrels ta each realm or will run out too fast." Thráin threw out his final offer first. "I'm losin ah hefty amount right off, so no more or I'll shut off any bartering for wine."
Several nods were seen and one wail of protest from Glorfindel.
"I have contracts with Rohan's freighters," Celeborn began. "Ten barrels a year or no supplies will come from the south."
Thráin met his gaze evenly. "Ten barrels for passage on the side of ah river ye don't control?"
Celeborn didn't budge. "I own all the contracts with Rohan. Even Thranduil pays tribute for my services."
Thráin absorbed this new piece of information. He considered calling Celeborn a liar, but didn't want his reign in Erebor to be one day. It wouldn't look good in the history books. "If ye have all the wagons at your disposal, how many continue to Mirkwood?"
"Two thirds are allowed through. As you well know, my archers can reach across the river."
"What supplies come up from the south that can't be provided locally in the next year or two?" Thráin was getting caught up on his missing fifty years and cast a glance to Dáin. "What are ye gettin from the elves?"
"Grain for our ale, but I deal with Lord Celeborn's agent directly, an we pay in ore for their metal needs."
"I thought you didn't negotiate with dwarves?" Thráin shot to Celeborn.
"My agent is the King of Rohan. He is allowed to trade with dwarves or Gondor as he sees fit. When his wagon trains go to the Iron Hills, he pays me in horses, food and ore. I provide security from the border of Rohan to the Iron Hills and Thranduil's kingdom. You don't see my people because they remain hidden and don't interact with your caverns."
"That makes sense," Dáin admitted. "I always wondered how they never were attacked."
"They were, many times. My warriors are trained to dispose of attackers and never have the men become aware."
"An for ten barrels of my finest wine ah year, until gone, ye would provide service ta Erebor an Dale?" Thráin asked.
Celeborn nodded. "And for two thousand cold coin per year also."
"Do ye trust the men of Rohan ta cart gold back to ye?" Thráin was skeptical and it was evident in his tone.
"Sorry I'm late," Bard entered, seeing talks were underway.
Gandalf handed him a glass of wine and motioned him to sit by him.
"I don't have gold delivered to me from the Iron Hills and the men have no need to cheat me with ore. I will have one of my people with each supply to Erebor and you will pay in manageable increments until fulfilled for the year." Celeborn spoke in a soft, but commanding tone, his blue eyes never wavering off Thráin's one eye.
Thráin thought the offer over. He tried to find fault, but couldn't. He looked at Balin who motioned for him to accept in Khuzdul sign language. Turning back to Celeborn, he asked, "An that's for all wagons coming north, an we deal with Rohan ourselves, an ye guard all our transports?"
"My only interest is getting the men of Rohan home safely. How many trips or cargo is not my concern."
"The coin is for one wagon train or fifty?" Thráin needed to know if Celeborn would raise the limit if too many trips were taken.
"Yes," Celeborn didn't waver. "It would be a foolish bargain if only one wagon came your way. In the next several years you will need an excessive amount of supplies until your kingdom and Dale are self-sufficient. After that, we can renegotiate." He turned to Bard. "What do you have to offer for my protection?"
"Nothing at the moment. When we settle with the dwarves, I will be able to pay for our freighting, but I doubt I can come close to your asking price."
"I suggest you divide with the dwarves and each pay half." Celeborn saw Bard and Thráin look at the other.
"Are we getting the full amount agreed by Thorin and the old contract made by my ancestor, Girion? I'm not sure who negotiated with him, but we know the amount," Bard finished.
"I negotiated," Thráin spoke quietly. "They were in much better shape than us and offered no quarter on price. Girion was a shrewd trader, an we were desperate. We will honor our word even if treated unfairly."
There was silence for a moment while everyone remembered them fleeing or stories thereof.
Thráin continued, "Do ye have a vault?"
"It's damaged and I don't have an army to protect our wealth at the moment. I'm hoping with spring, we also have an influx of people from the towns of men." He looked at Thranduil. "They will need passage through your woods also."
Thranduil smiled. "This area is rather remote and inhospitable. What would men want to journey here for?"
"There's land to farm," Bard replied swiftly.
"This is rather far north for farming. Dale only existed because of Erebor. You must learn what they offered and follow suit," Thranduil wisely advised. "The farmers of Dale grew grain for the dwarves and that's all. The dwarves mined the riches and traded for local wares such as bolts of cloth the men had shipped in from the coast. I would see that trade start up again and take a cut of fine cloth from your freighters."
"That's all?" Bard wasn't sure he understood. "You're not asking for gold like you're making King Thráin pay?"
Thranduil's face was devoid of expression as he responded. "No. I will help you reestablish the trade from the Havens and other coastal communities where the finer merchandise is made. It has been a long time since I've replenished my stores and would prefer men make the trek across Eriador and the Misty Mountains than my elves."
"You mean you haven't had supplies of cloth for almost two hundred years?" Bard was curious.
"Two hundred years is a blink to an elf," Thranduil reminded him.
"Fine bolts of cloth are low on my list of priorities," Bard responded.
This time a slight smile graced the woodland king's face. "So is allowing men to cross my realm."
"It just became a very high priority." Bard knew he had been out classed and hoped all his negotiations wasn't as if a child reasoning with an adult, as he now felt.
Thráin switched to ale, as did Balin and Dáin after a glass of wine apiece. The topic switched to when Erebor's inventory would be complete.
There was a commotion outside the tent and a voice demanding, "I said let me go."
"Fili," Balin identified the raised voice and rushed to the doorway. "What is it, Fili?"
The elven guard who chased the fleeing dwarf down a lane as he ran into the sea of elvish tents looking for Balin, stopped and waited instruction on whether to allow this impudent dwarf his freedom, or toss him out.
He went back to his post when Lord Erestor waved him away.
Fili stepped inside the king's tent and wasn't sure how to proceed with all these powerful looking elves about. He wasn't sure who to address, Balin or his grandfather, whom he didn't know very well.
"Already tired of being in charge?" His grandfather got his attention.
"Ummm, I'm doing okay at my post. I came because I've been relieved and have a message."
Thráin, Dáin and Balin looked at each other and Dáin spoke for them. "I don't see anyone outside this room who could outrank ye."
"Thorin can and did."
Thráin closed his eye for a moment while Dáin and Balin laughed. He opened his eye, "Did he walk ta the mountain by himself?"
"No, he was riding a ram and still is. I don't think he can get off." Fili still wasn't used to someone other than his uncle in charge.
"How is his mind?" Gandalf asked.
"Seems like his old self before the battle. He is riding up and down stairs giving orders."
"What are the orders?" Thráin asked.
"He is saying nobody is taking his gold and he was cheated." Fili was torn between loyalty and duty. "He said he promised the Company most of the gold first." He looked at Balin, "He has Bilbo on the ram with him and said if he doesn't get the Arkenstone back today, Bilbo is going off the rampart. He's not crazy, Balin. He's furious."
"I'm responsible for the safety of Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf declared and looked directly at Thráin. "If I have to make a choice; I'm choosing Bilbo."
"Let me deal with my son," Thráin snapped and everyone headed to the horses. Soon they were thundering into the mountain's vast entrance, scattering dwarves cleaning for repairs to commence on the doors.
Radagast met them, with Beorn at his side.
"Oakenshield tries my patience," Beorn snarled. "I'll turn into a bear and eat his sheep, greedy fool."
"Don't do that, Beorn." Gandalf jumped off his horse.
Thorin rode up on his ram with a frightened Bilbo before him, mainly due to a dagger pressed against the Hobbit's side. "I see my messenger delivered."
"Thorin, let Bilbo go and we'll discuss your concerns," Gandalf tried reasoning. "We were getting around to the Arkenstone when you sent Fili for it. Your father has things well in hand, but these things take time."
"Time's up," Thorin growled. "If my father hasn't recovered the stone yet, he isn't fit to be king."
"And you are?" Gandalf threw as much distain in his reply as possible. "I sorely misjudged you, Thorin. You are a shadow of a dwarf compared to your father."
"Your comparisons mean nothing," Thorin screamed and found his target in the group. "Give it to me, Bard, and tear up our agreement or I kill the Halfling." He pressed the blade into Bilbo's side, causing him to cry out in pain.
Gandalf quickly spoke, "Bard, give me the stone."
Bard handed it over and Gandalf approached the ram. "Here is the Arkenstone, Thorin. You can hold it and play with it, but you have no power over this mountain any longer. Your father is back and king. With any luck, Fili will succeed him and not you."
"Toss it to me," Thorin ordered and Gandalf did.
"Now, get out of my mountain, all of you. Take my father with you if he thinks I'll part with one coin to thieves."
"Let Bilbo go, Thorin," Gandalf pleaded. "I gave you what you want."
Thorin push Bilbo off with a rough shove. He grunted as he hit the stone floor; jumped up and ran to Gandalf, who pushed him to the safety of the elves.
"Are we back to war for what you owe me?" Thranduil asked.
Thorin laughed. "You can have your war outside. I owe you nothing."
Radagast was watching intently Thorin's mannerism and stepped to Gandalf. "Gandalf, has Thorin eaten any mushrooms?"
Everyone looked at Radagast and then Balin.
"I sent mushrooms to the elves for a healing soup, but didn't pick them myself." Balin looked around and hollered, "Anyone here pick mushrooms this morning?"
"Aye, I did." A dwarf stepped forward.
"Can you get us some to look at?" Balin requested nicely and added a smile when the dwarf looked frightened of the elves on their warhorses.
"We are still gathering." He motioned for Balin to join him and they disappeared down a hall towards the kitchens.
"We need Óin." Thráin looked for someone to ride and fetch him.
"Be right back." Erestor turned his mount and raced back to Dale. By the time he returned with Óin bouncing behind him, Balin and the dwarf were dragging two sacks of mushrooms into daylight at the entrance. They each dumped a sack and all gathered around, except Thorin, who was lovingly holding the Arkenstone and smiling.
Óin shuffled through them muttering, "These are good, good." He fetched a small cone shaped one mixed in with many other varieties. "This one is a hallucinogenic." Óin held it up. "It only affects dwarves and men, but elves can eat it. We use it for medicinal purposes and it is only found here. No other dwarven kingdoms have ever produced one. We highly prize them for their trading value among the clans. I haven't seen one since ah wee young intern."
"If a dwarf consumes one, what happens?" Gandalf asked.
"Since dwarves are an unruly lot ta begin with, the effects exasperate our natural behavior. He looked around until spotting Thorin on his ram and pointed to him. "The effects come on slow because they have ta be in the intestines before effecting ah dwarf. By tomorrow he'll be fine. It also deadens pain, so he's feeling fine, but won't by tomorrow."
Elrond reached for one. "It's been a few hundred years since I've seen one. I used to keep a few at Imladris. Mixed with herbs, it is one of the best analgesics for dwarves and men, but Óin is correct, it doesn't work on elves." He looked at Óin, "I would like to take some back with me."
"Of course, Lord Elrond. I'll educate the dwarves on what ta look for. Thorin must ah gotten ah large chunk lookin at his behavior."
"At least I don't have to kill him," Gandalf commented. "What are we going to do with him?"
"Take him ta the family quarters," Thráin commanded Fili. He looked around, "Where is yer brother?"
"Ummm, with Tauriel moving gold."
"The elf lass?" Thráin knew who she was.
Fili nodded and took off to Thorin. Everyone watched as Fili cautiously approached. "Thorin, I'm taking you to the family wing, okay?"
"I want all the gold hidden." Thorin didn't look up from his gazing at the Arkenstone.
"We're doing it as we speak." Fili took the reins and slipped them over the ram's massive horns and led his uncle away.
"That went well," Gandalf commented.
"We better get back ta figuring what ye want for the stone," Thráin said to Bard.
"Actually it belongs to Bilbo." Bard looked at where Bilbo had joined them.
"I don't want it," Bilbo quickly stated.
"He gave it as a bargaining chip incase Thorin reneged. Are you going to follow the path of Thorin?" Bard bluntly asked Thráin.
Thráin signed to Balin in Khuzdul. "One moment before we return to the wine an ale; which I don't know about ye all, but I desperately need."
They waited for Balin and within a few moments he appeared with a small chest in his hands.
Thranduil zeroed in on it and held his breath as Balin stopped before Thráin and he reached over to opened the lid. Inside, as before, was the necklace made from the gems of Lasgalen. "I believe my father owed these to you as part of my education. He first refused them and almost forty years later, taunted you with them. He was wrong and on behalf of the House of Durin, I offer my sincere apologies." Thráin spoke in perfect Sindarin without inflection. He took the chest and handed it to Thranduil.
"Your father's debt for your education is fulfilled," Thranduil responded in kind. He allowed the elves to crowd around and view the craftsmanship of the dwarves.
Thráin turned to Bard and told him what he said to Thranduil while he was showing the gems off. "I offer ah vault in your name in my mountain. Your riches will be stored inside until such time as ye feel ye can protect them. I've been told ye have children?"
"Two daughters and a son," Bard replied proudly. "How many do you have?"
"Two sons an ah daughter. My youngest son is dead an my daughter is the mother of Fili an Kili. She'll return in the summer. How old are yer bairns?" Thráin asked.
"Sigrid, my eldest is seventeen. Bain is next at fourteen and my youngest, Tilda, is nine."
"Send yer two eldest ta the vaults with ah trusted advisor. Let them learn how ta count an weigh gold from my kin."
Bard laughed, "Funny, my best moneyman was the master's own tax collector, a fellow named Alfred. Gandalf told me Alfred killed a troll by hiding on a catapult and ending up down the throat of the beast. Needless to say, both died. I'll find someone."
"Ye'll get every coin promised." Thráin held his hand out.
Slowly, Bard took it and they shook. "Is Thorin always like this?"
Thráin looked sad and they started back to Dale, walking the horse as the others went ahead. "Nay. He's my best. He wasn't even grown when Smaug came. Never once did he complain, although he was forced ta grow up overnight. He worked in the forges of men while I took care of the kingdom. After Erebor, my father wasn't stable enough ta rule an I had ta take over. For a hundred an twenty years, I did just that an was gone ah lot when Thorin needed me. We didn't go directly west, because it was winter an the passes were closed. We went through Rohan an worked many villages of men an didn't get ta our destination for many years because we stopped in Dunland. Some went ta the Iron Hills, an according ta Dáin, will be here within the week ta start rebuilding."
"The Company holds Thorin in god-like status. I for one have never seen it." Bard still wondered at Thorin. "He is very persuasive. I heard him convince the people of Lake-town to allow his quest. I was the lone dissenter."
"He took over when I was captured at the battle of Azanulbizar. He had the burden of king an providing for our exiles. He's tough an never had it easy. For once, he deserves ta be waited on. Balin an Dwalin filled me in on the past decades. My pride in him grows each day. He's had some setbacks an you've never seen him free of some malady. In time, ye will grow ta love him." Thráin laughed at Bard's expression. "Well maybe not love, but admire."
"I hope you're right," Bard mounted and offered a hand to Thráin.