Chapter 25. Explanations

Idríl launched herself into Kyni's arms, causing him to stagger backwards. He buried his face into her neck, as he hugged her back.

"I thought... I thought..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I know," said Kyni softly. "But I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine."

They broke apart, and Kyni smiled up at her.

"What happened to you though? After we got separated I lost all contact with your group."

"Well we started off fine," began Idríl. "but then the path took us deeper and deeper into the mountain. Then-"

"I think that that story can wait," came a sharp voice from further down the hall. Kyni looked past Idríl and saw Thranduil striding towards them, his robes rippling majestically with each stride. Walking briskly behind him was his advisor, Tairdan. "What's more important is what happened to you?" continued Thranduil. "And where's Thorin?"

Kyni took a few moments to compose himself before replying. "My Lord, Thorin is dead."

Dead silence met Kyni's words. Idríl gaped at him, whilst Thranduil's pace slowed as Kyni's words dawned upon him.

"How?" asked Idríl, her voice full of sadness.

"A goblin by the name of Grukk. But he was only following orders. The true murderer of Thorin Stonehelm, King Under the Mountain, was the son of Smaug the Terrible."

No one had anything to say in reply. Tairdan stared in disbelief at Kyni, his eyes narrowed, whilst Idríl looked down at the floor with her eyes closed, taking deep breaths.

"There's something else," said Kyni, catching everyone's attention again. "I, I met my father."

"What? Where is he now?"

"He's dead," choked Kyni, as remorse welled up inside of him. "Dead by no other hand than my own."

"What do you mean by this?" snapped Tairdan, signalling the guards by the door. Kyni turned and saw their hands move down to the swords girt at their sides, gripping the hilt.

"Smaug made us fight each other, for his and his servants' amusement. My father was not right. He did not recognise me, even when I identified myself. His eyes were an unhealthy colour, as if they were burning. I had no choice, I had to. He wouldn't stop pushing the fight, I had to-" Kyni's voice broke. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as his body shuddered.

"Kyni, no one blames you," said Idríl softly, moving towards him. Kyni backed away from her.

"I do, I blame myself. Now because of me, my father is dead and so is Thorin. I should've let myself be killed. I would've been doing the world a favour."

"Don't talk like that," said Thranduil, crisply. "Thanks to you, we now know who our enemy is. If what you say is true, then there was nothing you could do for your father."

"What do you mean?" asked Kyni, looking up at Thranduil.

"What you described is known as the Dragon Sickness. It consumes a person, drives them insane. They forget who they are, what they are and anyone they know. Do not blame yourself, he was beyond your help."

"But he obeyed Smaug. He attacked when he told him to attack-" started Kyni.

"Smaug is a dragon. We do not know how they work but my guess is that they have can enter the mind of those afflicted with the Dragon Sickness. The sickness makes them more akin to the fire-breathers, who are constantly plagued with it. The sickness is part of dragons; that is why they are greedy and foul."

Thranduil's words felt hollow to Kyni. His story sounded twisted, as though it had been constructed solely to appease him. He was about to argue back when Idríl spoke.

"He's right, Kyni," she said kindly. "Stories of the Dragon Sickness are known to most Elves and Dwarves. Come, we will find Veorza and he will clarify it for you."

"Where is he? I feared the worse when he was not here."

"He is in the infirmary. He's... Come, it is best if we just show you." said Idríl, extending her hand to Kyni. He took it, and together they wandered through the many halls of Thranduil's Keep, not speaking, but taking comfort in each other's presence.

They reached the infirmary, and Kyni was led over to the bed where Veorza lay. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell lightly under the covers.

"Is he asleep?" asked Kyni.

"Nay, lad. Merely resting." Veorza's eyes slowly opened and he propped himself up against the frame of the bed, grimacing slightly at the movement. "Well, I have to say," continued Veorza. "It's nice to see you alive and well. Forgive me for not getting up."

"What happened to you?"

"Well, as you can see," said Veorza, throwing back the covers. "My leg was violated."

Kyni gasped. Underneath the covers, Veorza's leg laid bare. It was a sickening yellow colour, tinged with green. What looked like bite marks started at the thigh and ended at the shin. Pus was oozing from the wound, mixed in with a pungent smell of blood.

"What-"

"A bastard of wyvern," said Veorza, shifting slightly. "It grabbed me by the leg. I would've gone over the cliff if Idríl hadn't grabbed me. Still, being the rope in a tug-of-war between a wyvern and a She-Elf is not my idea of fun."

"So you were attacked as well?" said Kyni, addressing both Idríl and Veorza.

"We were," answered Idríl. "By wyvern outside the tunnels of the mountain, then goblins once we were inside. We had no choice but to retreat back the way we came when we got swarmed by orcs. That was when Veorza got bitten."

"Luckily the beast took an axe to the skull. I never managed to thank that Dwarf," mused Veorza.

"He's dead, Veorza," said Idríl. "An arrow through the neck. It happened just after we pulled you back up."

"Pity. He deserved a longer life. Now, where is Thorin?"

Kyni opened his mouth to speak, but Idríl spoke first.

"Veorza," she said, softly. "Thorin perished. He died at the hand of Smaug the Second."

Veorza eyes flitted between Kyni and Idríl for several seconds. His eyes appeared to glaze over.

"I see," he said gruffly. "And what became of Smaug?"

"He lives still," replied Kyni. "I'm sorry, Veorza, Thorin's death was my fau-"

"No," interrupted Idríl, curtly. "None of this is your fault. You must stop blaming yourself."

"Listen to Idríl, lad," said Veorza. "I doubt there was anything you could've done. You managed to escape - that is better than nothing. How did you escape, as a matter of fact?"

"I ran. Ran for what seemed like days through the tunnels of that mountain. Then a great eagle bore me away to safety. Radagast the Bro-"

"Radagast?" cut in Thranduil. "he saved you?"

"Well, yes. The eagle took me to him and then he let me stay with him before giving me a guide to lead me here."

"Where is he staying? Long have we wished to know." enquired Thranduil, moving closer to Kyni.

"I," began Kyni, before stopping. Something in the back of his mind was telling him not to divulge Radagast's location to the Green King. "I do not know. He never told me, nor did he let me see."

"How did you not see?" said Thranduil.

"I was blindfolded as soon as I landed. It was only after I'd entered Mirkwood that I was allowed to take it off."

Thranduil surveyed Kyni's face, looking for any signs of misgiving. Kyni wondered what was going on between Thranduil and Radagast for the King to be so suspicious.

"Very well," said Thranduil eventually. "It seems as though we owe a debt of gratitude to Radagast. But enough of that. We shall discuss it some other time. Right now we must discuss our next move."

"Next move?" asked Kyni, puzzled.

"Yes. You can't expect us to sit idly by whilst we know that a dragon lurks dangerously within the Grey Mountains. We have no choice."

"What are you talking about, my Lord?" said Idríl.

Thranduil turned to face her. "We're going to take the fight to him."