Still don't own the Hobbit. Sorry to leave you there, but it just seemed appropriate...:) Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially angelrider, purple fairy, narsil, and nimrodel. I want to really thank you guys for sticking with me for so long! Anyway, I think this is the last chapter before the epilogue, though some of you may think that the epilogue is trying to sneak in early...but I needed something to make this chapter long enough to be worth posting. I really hope all of you enjoy!
Thranduil stood on the edge of a ruin, staring at the sight before him. He had been searching for his son for hours, and had feared him dead. He let his eyes drift across the scene.
The shadows were starting to grow long, emphasizing the much too still form of the battered blue dragon. He had known she was too young too be allowed on her own. Just a child.
The annoying hobbit lay curled into a miserable ball next to her neck. The dwarves sat with him, occasionally reaching out to squeeze one of his shoulders.
Tauriel stood on the ruin above him, giving herself height from which to guard the group.
His son sat motionless on his heels, watching blue nostrils for any sign of movement.
The elven king let his eyes drift back to the girl's broken form, and allowed his heart to grieve at the thought of the vibrant child that had brightened his halls so briefly. He could not bear the thought of her passing all ready. But perhaps it was not too late. He knew a little bit more about dragons than most, after all. He had learned it the hard way.
He continued forward from where he had paused to examine them. As he approached, the dwarves looked up, angry. They simply watched however, as he reached forward and placed one elegant hand against the blue scales on her chest.
He felt his mouth twitch slightly for a moment, before he was able to control it. He then raised his eyes and met the fiery glare of the dwarf king with an expressionless face.
"She is not dead."
His words lingered in the air, as the others silence stretched, then broke. Suddenly they were all standing, babbling questions and accusations. He cut them off with a Look.
"I have had the misfortune of discovering that as long as a dragon's fire burns, they live. The only sure way to make certain they are dead is to feel their chest for the warmth of their fire...though dropping one in a large body of water probably works for that too."
He allowed a small smile to quirk his lips.
"If you want her to continue living, I suggest moving her to the shore, so that you may pitch tents and light braziers. Keeping her warm would help, and making sure any wounds are cleaned and bandaged. After that, it will be up to her."
He straightened, pleased, then turned to his son.
"Walk with me."
With that, he swept off, leaving a great commotion behind him. He was confident they would do as he had suggested. He had spotted more of their motley group on his way up here, so they would have more help soon. He needed to speak to his son, and make plans for his people.
His own wounded were being cared for, and he needed someone to take over his duties. He needed to return to his obligations at home, coordinating with Legolas here to make sure their people were taken care of.
As they moved away, he was not encouraged by the look on his son's face. Something had disturbed him greatly. When Legolas announced that he could not stay, he felt a vice clutch his heart for a moment. As he met his son's eyes, he understood.
He had wished more than once that he himself had had such an option when facing loss in his life. But he'd been crowned in the midst of war when he lost his father, and he couldn't abandon his kingdom when he'd lost his wife. He sighed almost imperceptibly.
"I see. Where will you go?"
He found himself wincing at his son's answer, and giving him some advice. At least he'd avoid some of the worst places of the world, if he sought out the Dunedain, as well as having those that would watch his back.
Still, he would miss him. He wished he could tell him how much, but he had never been good at sharing his emotions. His wife had called it awkward and endearing. As he saddened at that thought, it gave him an idea.
He halted his son briefly, telling him how much his mother had loved him. He knew it surprised his son, as he almost never spoke of her, but he acknowledged it at least. He hoped he understood the underlying message...he loved his son, as well. As he watched his sons retreating form, he sighed, then turned.
He was surprised to find Glorfindel behind him. He looked at the ancient elven lord with assessing eyes. If he had any wounds, they were superficial. He was covered in black blood, but his weapons were cleaned and placed in their sheathes. All in all, he seemed unharmed, though tired. He could relate.
"May I help you?"
Glorfindel nodded his head in a graceful bow, at odds with his appearance.
"I have heard what you did for my daughter. I wished to give you my thanks."
Thranduil gave an elegant nod of acknowledgment. He started the long walk back to his tents. He would have to do his best to coordinate his kingdom's efforts from here. As he pondered the work ahead of him, Glorfindel fell into step next to him.
They walked in silence for a moment. He could tell the other elf had something to say, but he was content to allow him to speak in his own time. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was curious about what he had to say.
Shouldn't he be pacing at his daughter's side right about now? He sent a glance to the side. Why did he look so tense? Concern for his child? He watched the other elf as he tightened his jaw, then spoke.
"I hope that your doubts about my daughter have been laid to rest."
He made as if to continue, then snapped his jaw shut. Thranduil found himself rather amused. This is what this was about? He supposed that it was understandable. After all, he had only given the child a free pass to fly to the mountain.
He tightened his lips. If Glorfindel thought that he would have her shot now, after all she had gone through and all she had done...he was even more of a fool than he'd occasionally thought.
"I will still expect her to spend at least a year at my court, but your child is in no danger from me and mine. I would not so dishonor such a valiant effort, that greatly aided my people. If anything, I would worry about those...dwarves. After all, most of them haven't had a chance to discover her history."
He sent a small smirk at the suddenly wide eyed elf.
"I fear I must leave you. I have many duties to take care of."
He gracefully saluted the other elf, then continued, hiding his smirk. Let him stew on that a bit. It served him right for doubting his honor. Though it had distracted him from his own child and his troubles. He mentally sighed, though he allowed no sign of it to cross his face.
/
Thorin sank into one of the many chairs lining the tent walls with a groan. It had been a week since the battle, and things had almost broken out in war again at least once. Dain's dwarves had started a search for him and his company, and had found them surrounding an unknown dragon.
When the Company had prevented them from making sure it was dead, they had returned to Dain with the news that the dwarves of Erebor were suffering from insanity and unfit to rule.
Dain hadn't believed them, but had taken about fifty of his men and gone to investigate. By the time they returned to Ravenhill, (which was the actual name of the ruined tower), word had spread to the men of Dale and the elves of Mirkwood that the dwarves were moving against their dragon, and they had quickly sent what warriors they could spare to defend her.
Dain had arrived to interrogate and possibly detain his cousin and his companions, only to find a large mixed contingent waiting for him. He had been told rather aggressively, in no uncertain terms, that any action taken against the beast would be taken as an act of war.
It had taken a great deal of time and effort to smooth things out. As well as a lot of stories at mealtimes. They had been extremely shocked and skeptical when they discovered that they owed the lives of the line of Durin to a Dragon.
However, he was pretty sure he could finally relax, if just a bit. Things were going fairly well. Dain had withdrawn any accusations of insanity, and thus any claims to Erebor. He had also reluctantly declared the Dragon a friend, and not to be harmed.
Because of this, they had been able to reduce her guard to just the elves of Rivendell, the dwarves of his company, and the men of Laketown. This meant that at any given time, there would be at least five elves, three dwarves, and two men.
There would have been more, but the elves had lost eight of their number to the battle, and the men had few they could spare. (He'd have told them not to bother at all, but they apparently hailed her a hero and were very insistent.)
As for his Company, there were only ten that could take the time consistently. Balin, Dwalin, and himself had other duties that regrettably came first. Putting a kingdom back in order was not easy.
He turned his head to acknowledge the elf that sat down next to him. Glorfindel had been a wreck for most of the week, but if his appearance was any indicator someone had finally managed to get him to rest, and change his clothes.
He was a little surprised at how pleased he was to see it. If anyone had told him a year ago that he would come to respect and even approve of an elf, he'd have exploded in anger. Now he just found himself struggling to keep 'befriend' off that list.
He let his head rest against the back of the chair. Things were going well, but they were holding off celebrating until Luin would be awake to appreciate it. Dain still looked at him strangely for demanding that they put off his coronation until she could be present.
He closed his eyes with a sigh. Now if only she'd wake up, they could truly relax...at least they could find a pulse, now. He scowled a little. He was glad that Thranduil's advice was working, but he hated the thought of being beholden to that arrogant woodland elf.