The gate opened with a loud groan of iron against rock. Gears turned as they pulled on chains to open the massive double doors. Denali snorted and tossed his head, clearly upset by the loud noise. Arinya lightly placed her hand onto his neck in a comforting gesture, using just a touch of magic to calm him. She whispered soothingly to him in elvish. This seemed to work because Denali ceased his fidgeting and stood stone still, intent on every word that she had to say.
A moment later the doors finished opening and the elf woman spurred her steed through the now open doorway. The sound of Denali's hooves rang out strangely loud as they landed upon the stone. Arinya cast her green gaze around as she entered, in utter awe of the craftsmanship and architectural skills of the dwarves. They had quite literally hollowed out the mountain, carving homes and shops from the rock itself. Even from where she stood, Arinya could see bridges crisscrossing over gaps that plunged down several levels, seeming to have no end. It was true that Arinya had seen much of the interior of the Lonely Mountain in her nightly visions, but this was different. And yet, at the same time, it was also the same. It was rather a strange sensation to know she had seen all of this before and yet had never actually been to Erebor itself before.
After only a few mere steps inside the door, four dwarven guards, all clutching spears in their hands, stood in front of Arinya, barring her path forward. Among the four of them, one of the guards stepped forward. "You are to wait here until we receive word that King Thrór has granted you an audience," he said.
Arinya nodded in response. Swinging one leg over the side of her saddle, the elf woman dismounted her steed. Denali let out a small snort but otherwise stood still. Nonetheless, the brunette let her hand rest upon the side of his neck, offering him some form of reassurance. She knew that he was uncomfortable. He was in a strange place, with new smells, sounds, and sights, in the company of creatures he had probably never seen before.
So, for at least the next twenty minutes, Arinya waited patiently to hear word about whether she would be granted an audience before the King Under the Mountain. She continued to look around at the wonder of Erebor, admiring every detail- from the paintings of the Lonely Mountain and previous kings hanging along the stone walls to the dwarves themselves and the diversity in appearances that she witnessed among them. As each of them passed her, Arinya briefly wondered if one of them was the dwarf boy that she had once known so long ago. But so far, none that passed her by seemed to be the one she was searching for. Still, Arinya kept her eyes open. She had at least an idea of what he would look like- black hair and bright blue eyes. Those were the defining features that may help her to spot him if they did happen upon one another.
When the twenty minutes was up, a dwarven soldier appeared from the large hall directly before them. He went straight to the dwarf who had spoken to Arinya before, whispered a few hurried words to him, before hurrying of once again in a different direction than he had come. From the darkness of her hood, Arinya watched the other dwarves, waiting for them to say something.
The lead guardsman turned to her, his grasp tightening ever so slightly on his spear. "You are to follow me. King Thrór as graciously agreed to hear your counsel."
Arinya nodded. She dropped her hand from Denali's neck to let it rest at her side. She started forward to follow the dwarf, but paused midstride. She cast a look back to Denali before looking back to the guards questioningly.
"Your horse will be here waiting for you when your meeting is complete," the dwarf told her gruffly.
Once again, the elf woman nodded. Satisfied, she began to follow the dwarven guard as he led the way to where King Thrór awaited her. The other three dwarven soldiers flanked her on each side, boxing her in. Arinya wondered if this was just to keep her from wandering. She knew that dwarves were very secretive. There were more than likely parts of this mountain that no non-dwarf had ever gazed upon. Arinya's guess was that they preferred to keep it that way.
It took them a good few minutes to finally reach the throne room. Inwardly, Arinya was glad that her hood was drawn up so that they didn't see her jaw slacken in wonder. She continued to follow the soldiers as they escorted her down the narrow pathway towards the throne. Snapping her attention back to the moment at hand, Arinya focused her gaze on the path before her. Sitting regally in his throne was King Thrór. Just beside him to his right side stood his son, Thráin. Steeling herself, the elf woman prepared herself to convey the warning she had traveled so far to deliver.
The lead dwarf stopped before his king, setting the bottom of his spear upon the marble floor with a clack. He bowed respectfully. "My Lord. This is the elf who wished for an audience with you," he said, speaking every word carefully.
King Thrór nodded his head in response. He raised a ringed finger and gestured for him to take his leave, his blue eyes never straying from Arinya. As the elf woman looked back at him from the confines of her cowl, she thought to herself how Thorin had the same sharp, bright blue eyes of his grandfather. The guards once again bowed low to their king before turning and walking back down the pathway out of the throne room, leaving Arinya alone with Thrór and Thráin.
"Now," began Thrór, his tone commanding, "Who are you and where do you hail from?"
Arinya reached up her hands and grasped the edges of her hood and pulled it back to reveal her face. "My name is Arinya. I have come from the Golden Wood of Lothlorien," she told them. She let her hands fall back to her sides as she regarded the two imposing dwarf men before her.
"Lothlorien? Are you here on behalf of Galadriel?" Thráin inquired as he crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest.
Arinya shook her head. "No. I have come here of my own volition," she answered.
"And why have you come here? What business was it that you traveled all this way to discuss?" King Thrór asked.
The brunette folded her hands in front of her. "I came to deliver a warning."
This caught the dwarf lords' attention. They seemed to straighten in their posture, an act of surprise. Thrór brought up his hand, letting his elbow rest upon the arm of his throne, as he lightly stroked his beard in a thoughtful gesture. "A warning you say?" Arinya nodded her confirmation. "A warning against what?"
Arinya took a deep breath, steeling herself for the long conversation that was to come. "A warning against a dragon. A dragon that has his sights set upon Erebor."
Thorin emerged from one of the many hallways that honeycombed their way through the entirety of the Lonely Mountain. His bright blue eyes skimmed passing dwarves, searching for someone in particular. Not seeing who he wished, the dwarf prince made his way towards the ramparts, where he knew he could find someone who could find who he was searching for.
After a few minutes of walking, Thorin reached the ramparts and quickly climbed the stairs. He was immediately greeted by a warm breeze that blew across the mountain, keeping the flags mounted upon the walls aloft. A few of the soldiers that stood guard upon the ramparts inclined their heads respectfully as their prince passed but did not move from their post.
In the next moment, Thorin spotted who he was searching for: Balin. He immediately strode over to the older dwarf, who was busy looking out over the expanse of land laid out before the mountain, his hands folded behind his back in content.
"Balin." The other dwarf turned at the sound of the dwarf prince's voice. "Do you know where my father is?"
"He is with the king," he answered.
Thorin nodded his thanks and started to turn to go to the throne room, where he knew he would find his grandfather.
"But you cannot see him right now," Balin quickly added. "He is in talks."
Thorin paused and turned back around to face Balin. "Talks? With who?"
Balin sighed and rested crossed his arms over his chest. "A lone elf appeared at our gates, requesting an audience with the king."
"An audience?" Thorin repeated. "Did they say why?"
Balin shook his head. "We asked but she said it was for King Thrór's ears alone," he told him.
This caught the young prince's attention. "She?"
Balin nodded. "Aye. It was a woman. I could tell you no more about her, though. She kept her hood drawn up around her face." His brow furrowed as he saw the look upon Thorin's face. "Is something wrong?"
The dark haired dwarf visibly snapped out of his thoughts. A friendly, reassuring smile appeared on his face. "No. Everything is quite alright. Thank you, Balin." The elder dwarf nodded in response. Then, Thorin turned on his heel and began to make his way back the way he had come, back towards the direction of the throne room. As he walked, a single question blazed in the forefront of his mind, demanding an answer:
Was it her?
Arinya strode angrily through the halls of Erebor, making her way to the main gate with a determined pace. Her face was contorted into a deep scowl, her brows pointed downward like lightning bolts. She had drawn her hood up once again, hiding the look of pure anger and frustration that was on her face.
The elf woman had expected King Thrór to be skeptical of her warning, but she hadn't expected such arrogance. When she told them of the dragon's coming, Thrór had practically laughed right in her face. He had pretty much said that a dragon stood little chance against the dwarves of Erebor. He was just so arrogant and proud! Arinya had seen them being massacred by the dragon when it invaded. Those who survived fled the mountain. She did her best to still her temper, remaining calm and trying to reason with the king and his son, who was of the same opinion as his father. Yet, it was here that Arinya witnessed firsthand the stubbornness that the dwarven people were known for. They would not budge on their opinion that they could fully handle and repel a dragon attack. In addition, they criticized her for coming all this way to warn them about something that may or may not happen.
It was an ever present danger that a dragon would develop an interest in Erebor and its riches. Dwarves and dragons were long and hated enemies. So a dragon attack was an ever present fear for dwarves so they made sure to take precautions. But yet, in her vision, the dragon had blown through all their defenses through sheer force. It was as if nothing could stand against it. And here was the king, who was supposed to do what was best for his people, shrugging off a warning of a dragon attack.
In the end, Arinya could no longer control her anger and pointed out how foolish the dwarven king was being in choosing to not heed her warning. How his own pride and arrogance was keeping him from protecting his people. Understandably, Thrór and Thráin did not like this. They "requested" that she immediately leave the mountain. Without another word, Arinya drew up her hood and began to make her way towards the gate. She could almost feel two dwarven soldiers behind her, trailing her to make sure that she did indeed leave immediately.
Arinya continued to fume. She had expected them to be skeptical. But to completely brush off her warning as if it were nothing was practically incomprehensible. The elf woman inwardly chastised herself for losing her temper. It was a foolish move on her part. She wasn't entirely sure what to do now. King Thrór had not heeded her warning, so should she stay the night and return the next morning to try and convince him? Arinya scoffed. He probably wouldn't even let her through the gates, let alone grant her an audience after how she behaved. So what was she to do now? Should she leave now that her warning was delivered or stay and try to convince the dwarven king of her warning?
As she walked, Arinya was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't even realize who she had just walked past.
Thorin was nearly halfway to the throne room when he spotted her. She was cloaked and hooded, hiding any defining features of her face. She was shorter than any elf he had seen. With her hood drawn up the way it was, she may have even been mistaken for a dwarf, had it not been for the long, graceful strides that identified her as an elf. From the way she was walking, Thorin observed that she was angry about something. It seemed that her meeting with his grandfather had not gone the way she wished, whatever the topic was.
Thorin's blue eyes looked her over as her strides brought her ever closer. She wore simple traveling pants and a maroon tunic with brown boot and a cloak- each article bearing designs that marked them as elven in origin. The elf girl wore clothes similar to these.
Even with her hood drawn up around her head, the dwarf prince was able to spy a long, brunette braid resting on one shoulder. The elf girl always wore her hair in a braid.
But these were all trivial observations and meant nothing. Any elf could dress and wear their hair in the same way that she used to. It could be merely a coincidence. There was only one thing that could determine if it was really her. And instantly he spotted it: a silver ring of dwarven make on a silver chain resting securely on her chest.
No sooner had he made this observation than the elf woman walked past him, completely wrapped up in her own thoughts and oblivious to his presence. She managed to walk about ten more feet until Thorin called after her. "Hey, elf!" She stopped short, her body frozen. She did not turn around- instead choosing to focus forward. Everything in her body stiffened in surprise. Thorin felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "I believe that is my ring."
A/N: YAY! Reunion time! Sorry to say I'm not sure when I will be posting my reunion chapter. I have a feeling it's going to be longer than my typical chapters so it will take me longer. I also want to make sure it's good quality before posting it. I'm hoping it will be within two weeks but we'll see.
As always, welcome to new followers and thank you to all the people who reviewed this story! Please continue to review!