Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.
Author's Note: A very large thank you once again to all who have been reading, reviewing, favoriting and following this story! You guys make my day! Enjoy.
26. Return to Mirkwood Forest
It had been two more days after the disturbing talk with the Lady before the dwarves had been ready to take their leave of the elven forest, despite a sudden impatience upon the part of Kili. The young prince needed the time to once again regain strength, though he was unwilling to admit it, and the rest needed to regroup for the challenge ahead. The choice to go through the entire length of Mirkwood was not a popular one, but as none had come up with a workable alternative, they were resigned to it.
August had barely begun by the calendars of Men, Thorin judging that they had plenty of time to reach Erebor before the appointed day, even should the tangled limbs of Mirkwood add a month to the normal three weeks' travel to the mountain. Legolas and Dwalin, to their mutual astonishment and disgust, had agreed with each other about the advisability of a few more days delay when both were consulted about the plan, much to the amusement of the others in the party. Far better that they lose a little time now allowing for recovery then to lose more later to a severe illness when the young prince was pushed too far for his body to handle. Especially when they were far from help, deep within Mirkwood.
Once the delay had been decided upon, it was used to their advantage in other ways, as stores were carefully gone over to replenish medicines and other needed items from the stocks of the elves. In that generosity, even Gloin could find no fault with the Galadhrim, further adding to the old dwarf's grumbling. Legolas had also spoken at length with his brethren, and then returned to press a small pouch of leather into Thorin's hand. At the dwarf's puzzled raised eyebrow, the elf shifted uncomfortably.
"It is an herb used occasionally in stews here. When burned in a fire, however, the scent given off is akin to that of a funeral pyre."
Fili, standing next to his uncle, had blanched, but took the packet grimly, willingly accompanying Thorin, Gloin, and Dwalin to a clearing the next day where a large false pyre could be raised. Thorin had found himself unable to throw the foul herbs in, finally handing them over to a stone-faced Dwalin and placing one arm around his blonde nephew, whose body shook with emotion he would not allow himself to express. As an uncle, he knew without words what visions of might have beens haunted his sister-son as they stood here.
All question about the necessity of the ruse, however, was gone upon the reports received that night. Elven scouts concealed in their tree perches upon the edges of the forest had spotted several men and one dwarf slinking away upon sight of the rising smoke with its tell-tale odor, thinking themselves unobserved. On the other side of the wood, near the path that once led to the doors of Moria, another small orc band bearing the sign of the White Hand had been surprised and destroyed by patrols. The hunters were gathered around the edges, waiting for their prey to emerge once more.
This had raised the other problem that Thorin had yet to find a solution to- Kili. The dwarf could not walk all the way to the woods, nor could he be carried, and he was simply too easy to spot atop Mithril's back. With the choice to go through the tangles of Mirkwood, only one pony could be brought, and they had settled upon Thorin's mount as the surest of foot and strongest of those left. He, Dwalin, and Dis were debating this very problem when a grinning Gimli appeared at their sides.
"We have something to show you if you'll follow me."
Without stopping to see if they followed, the red-bearded warrior led the way a short distance to one of the other clearings, waving a hand at Fili and Legolas, who stood next to a pack laden Mithril. The grey pony was standing placidly, two large packs pinioned to either side; another, wrapped in the odd silvery grey material favored by the elves, was across his back.
"'Tis a pony."
Dwalin observed acidly to the younger dwarf, eyeing the beast. Thorin and Dis stayed silent, both wary at the sight of an entirely too smug Fili, whom they had left in the company of his younger brother. It had never been normal to see one prince without the other, and now… Fili's face split into a grin at their suspicious looks, eyes sparkling as if he'd just pulled off the most intricate of practical jokes, and the pack upon the pony's back began to… Laugh?
A hand pushed aside the fabric, dark hair spilling back as Kili slowly straightened from where he'd lain across his mount's back, concealed. It was a task made harder, of course, because the fool was howling with mirth the moment he caught sight of the faces of the three older dwarves; his brother, cousin, and their elven friend soon joining in the merriment.
"How?!"
The voices of Dwalin and Dis mingled in spluttered outrage, their demands for explanation having to wait until the miscreants regained their breath. Kili finally answered for the others, grin still lighting up his face.
"Gimli was telling us about how the Rohirrim rode right past them when crossing Rohan because of the cloaks given the Fellowship in Lothlorien, so we decided to try this. We were hoping it would allow me to stay hidden until we were in Mirkwood."
"Frodo swears it concealed him and Sam on a rocky slope in front of the Black Gate. Said some Southerners almost stepped on them even though they were right out in the open," Gimli added with a shrug, "None of the watchers should be close enough to realize I'm not wearing it."
"And it would be expected for us to have a pack pony at least as far as the forest." Thorin concluded for them, giving a nod of satisfaction. "Well done, all of you."
When the morning dawned to depart, however, it became obvious that the Lady Galadriel had heard of the intended ruse and concluded to add to it in her own way, beckoning to other elves bearing cloaks for the entire party as the dwarves paused to take their leave.
"In token of the pledge I made to you, Lord Durin, we provide these cloaks, which we have shared with outsiders but one other time in all our history. May they serve you well within the Greenwood."
Her stress of the forest's name reminded all that the wood had been returned to its old name, though Thorin doubted any of the dwarves would ever think of it as such. There was a stir among both parties as none immediately stepped forth to accept the new garb, Dwalin and Gloin both looking as if they'd rather touch orc gear than elven. It was Dis who stepped forward to break the awkwardness with a regal tilt of the head that emphasized the foolishness of the others' reactions.
Thorin instantly had a flashback to his own response to being told Orcrist was elven made and had to grudgingly admire Gandalf's restraint in not laughing at him. He'd acted as if the hilt bore a contagion! Nearby, Bofur proved he didn't have anywhere near the massive discipline of a wizard, openly chuckling at the scene, while Fili and Kili attempted to cover their snickers.
"Gimli, son of Gloin," The Lady gave a bow of the head to the elder dwarf, who scowled, before returning her gaze to the younger, "Last time we stood upon this shore, I asked what gift a dwarf would ask of an elf, and your reply was suitably humbling."
"Now, Lady, I-"
A smile cut off Gimli's flushed, fumbling reply, his hand pressing to his upper breast as if to ensure himself of the continued presence of something precious carried there. By the look upon his father's face, whatever the younger dwarf had asked would not remain secret for long. The Lady waved forward two elves, who stopped in front of Gimli, and, to his surprise, Legolas.
"Accept these blades, forged in token of the friendship you have shown both our peoples can be revived, Gimli of Erebor and Legolas Greenleaf."
Both were given daggers, hilts bearing the unusual golden tint of mallorn wood. As Legolas drew his to examine it, Thorin sucked in a startled breath, for etched upon the blade were ancient Khuzdul runes naming the bearer an ally of the dwarven people. It was an ancient inscription that only one among them would have told the Lady of, the king's eye seeking out the red-bearded dwarf where he stood with the princes admiring his own blade. Gimli, to his credit, met his monarch's eyes squarely, though with some apprehension until seeing Thorin's small nod of approval. As a dwarf lord in his own right, it was within Gimli's power to grant such a distinction and have it honored by his king, though Thorin could not recall any instance of it being given an elf other than Celebrimbor back in the Second Age.
Galadriel, however, was not finished, waiting until eyes were once more drawn to her.
"Kili, Prince of Durin and Guardian of the Heart of the Mountain-"
Thorin lost track of what she was saying, seething inside at the trickery of elves, for none even within the party had yet openly spoken what the symbol upon Kili's palm truly meant- that the prince was forever bound to the Arkenstone and the mountain. The Lady smiled slyly at him from the corner of her eye, vocal words being overridden by those he heard in his mind.
"Seldom does any event escape my gaze, Thorin Oakenshield, Durin Returned. You would do well to remember that."
With her words came ghosting through his mind the image of his own company so long ago, sneaking unobserved from Rivendell- or so they thought. She had known, and approved, else they would not have set foot further upon the road to Erebor, he was now certain. A hand upon his arm giving it a gentle shake brought him back to the banks of the River Anduin to see that the others were gathering their things to load the barge waiting to bear them across the water, Kili already concealed under his cloak. Beside him, Dis was regarding him with such concern that he gave her a small smile in reassurance.
"Are you well, brother? You grew pale."
"Aye, I am well enough; the damn elf caught me by surprise is all. What did she give to Kili? I was somewhat distracted."
A roll of her eyes said that his evasion had not gone unnoted.
"Arrows forged by the smiths of Lorien. They are said to be more effective against any creatures of Mirkwood that yet retain the taint of Dol Guldur. She also gave Kifir a small training bow, much to the visible disgust of Gloin, Dwalin, and Nast. If you seriously mean to renew friendship with the elves of Lorien, that prejudice must be addressed."
The unspoken 'you fools' made the king return her eye roll, for Dis had long railed against what she saw as unreasoning blind stubbornness upon his part. Thorin himself, however, was finding it difficult to reconcile his thoughts upon the matter, so he settled for pinning her with a faintly superior gaze.
"Renewing ancient ties with the Noldor here and other high elves such as Elrond is a completely different matter than relations with that treacherous fool in Mirkwood."
"Nor is Legolas his father."
"I never said he was, Dis." He nodded to where the others now stood upon the barge, several staring at the royal siblings impatiently. "Come, they wait upon us."
Now, meeting the gaze of the elf several hours later, the king conceded the truth of his sister's words from earlier in the day with a thoughtful nod, unsurprised by the ease he felt at the inclusion of the prince in his small party. Their surroundings, however, were another matter entirely.
The first few miles into the tangle of Mirkwood were behind them, and already Thorin was questioning his own judgment in once again leading his company into such an ill fated place. They had stopped in a small clearing to allow Kili to come out of hiding, the young prince needing the aid of his mother and brother to sit upright after hours prone under the cloak across the back of his pony.
"Alright? Or do you want to dismount for a few moments?"
Fili's soft question was met with a shake of the head from his brother. Kili's face was red with a combination of heat, sweat, and his cramped posture of the last four hours, but Thorin was encouraged by a lack of further signs of distress in the younger dwarf. Once more, a fever had been lingering, which both Thorin and Dis now suspected was a remnant of the power that must have surged through the prince to heal him. Nonetheless, the dwarf king was determined to keep a close eye upon his sister-son, knowing Kili's stubborn determination not to further slow their journey would prevent him from stating when he could not keep pace. Well, his uncle would simply ensure that travel was easy enough that it would not unnecessarily fatigue the prince, even if that meant more time in this cursed wood, deadline be damned.