A/N: Feeling a bit better...tired, but better. So that's good! And I'm thrilled that you guys liked the last chapter. I hope you'll like this one as well. Thank you for all this wonderful support. You are all so amazing and I treasure your comments.
"Mithrandir, if what you say is true," Thranduil remarked rubbing his thumb across the tips of his other fingers, "Then the world is in grave danger."
The elf king watched the Grey Wizard warily from his chair within the small, secluded alcove off the throne room, his eyes sweeping over Gandalf's wearied form. Thranduil noted the way the wizard leaned, quite heavily, on his staff.
Gandalf nodded his head quickly, absently, his unfocused eyes betraying his strayed thoughts,
Something troubled him greatly.
A piece of information that he had overlooked nagged at his brain, begging to be acknowledged.
But he couldn't figure just what it was.
"Indeed," he finally replied quietly with a sigh (determined to ruminate on these thoughts later), "And I believe that Dol Guldur is only the beginning. Something far more powerful is at work here, though I cannot yet see it."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed slightly and he tilted his head to the side in thought.
"And what if this whole plot with Laketown, Dol Guldur, and The Lonely Mountain—supposing they ARE connected—proves to be a trap?"
Gandalf's gaze locked with the elf king's and a thin, humorless smile formed on his face, his grey eyes flashing.
"Oh, it's undoubtedly a trap." He murmured, "And you've already felt the effects of it, I believe. So, too, has Thorin Oakenshield and his company. And I believe, that we will yet feel more."
"And Thorin does not know of what you found on your search of the old fortress?"
Gandalf shook his head once, a clear indication for the negative. "No, indeed not. Not yet at least. I plan to tell him AFTER they contend with the dragon."
"And you would share this information with me?" Thranduil tried to hide his confusion, but the timbre of his voice faltered, "Why?"
"Because you, above all others, know of this power permeating the forest, its influence, its corruption. And," Gandalf's eyes narrowed in thought, "And you've witnessed it destroy your family as well."
Thranduil's eye twitched for a brief moment, barely long enough for Gandalf's quick eyes to catch the movement.
But, catch it he did. And that small, infinitesimal movement proved that Thranduil understood.
The elf king had not been himself.
He was not still quite the elf he used to be, but he was getting better.
But, what the wizard had spoken was true.
A dark power had closed around him and clouded his judgment, poisoned his mind.
It was the same power he'd fought against with his father so many years ago, the same power that TOOK his father, leaving a still very young elf prince to oversee the welfare of his people.
Yes, Thranduil could see the trap closing in around his people and the men of Esgaroth.
And for the moment, he also held a small shred of pity for the dwarf king's plight.
The question now, though, was what were they going to do about it?
"How are we to complete this…mission…of yours when it is almost certain that The Master has learned of my son's presence within his town? And with the dwarves no less," Gandalf didn't miss the way Thranduil spat the words, "Surely he will suspect something if we were to march down upon them."
"Yes," He conceded, "Yes I had thought of that…"
Then Gandalf smirked.
"And it is precisely the leverage that WE need in order to combat against the current leader of Laketown."
"You ask me to put my son at risk?" Thranduil replied incredulously, "And for what? Some dwarves?"
Thranduil snorted at that thought.
"Dwarves, that by right, should still be in my dungeon right now."
Gandalf sighed, "Save me from your stubbornness and pride! You are far too quick to anger. You are worse than Thorin Oakenshield, holding onto these grudges and I do not give you counsel and advice on for you to hold onto the past injustices inflicted upon you!"
"You ask me to forgive them then?" Thranduil retorted, his eyes flashing, "To forgive those who betrayed my people and brought the wroth of the dragon so close to my borders?"
"No." Gandalf remarked, "In fact I'm hoping to use your…distaste for the dwarves to our advantage. All I ask is that you set aside your contentions, for now, in order to aid the people of Esgaroth, who are innocent of any crimes against you and deserve none of your derision."
Thranduil nodded thoughtfull, "Yes, of course I know that," His eyes dulled for a moment and a brief flash of sadness splashed across his features.
"Forgive me," he murmured, "I have not been myself lately and I fear that my temper has suffered for it."
Gandalf smiled and nodded his head again, slowly this time. "Another advantage in our favor, I think. The Master must have suspected the sway the forest was having on you, for how else would you have missed the goings on about Laketown? And he knows that the dwarves came from your palace, as well as your history of animosity …that way your inquiry about your son's location will not rouse so much suspicion and persuasion will convince the enemy to trust you. Hopefully, by then, Legolas and his troop will have completed their task."
Gandalf noted the hesitation in Thranduil's eyes. He could see the elf king warring with himself over something.
"And what of this halfing?" He murmured, his voice low and questioning, "What part does SHE play in all this?"
Gandalf chuckled. "Well, her official title is burglar, for the purposes of the company. She'll be taking on the initial scouting of the mountain and of the dragon Smaug if it comes to that."
Thranduil looked rather baffled by that statement. "Surely she is not equipped for such a task. She is only a hobbit after all."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the king, "Hobbits are much more than they appear, Lyla Baggins in particular. She is no dwarf, and therefore not swayed by gold or riches. Nor is she an elf with a contentious relationship with the dwarven race. She had ensured the safety of her companions on numerous occasions; she has a quick wit and sound judgment. I trust her to complete her task. No other can."
Thranduil's brows drew together and Gandalf contemplated the reasoning behind the elf's flashing eyes. Thoughts were whirring in Thranduil's head.
Concerning the hobbit.
"What concerns you of Mistress Baggins then?"
Thranduil visibly started at the wizard's voice.
"Nothing so much to be concerned with," He muttered in reply, "Just curious. How one so small and ill suited for travels and adventures of this sort could have endeared herself to such a large group. Dwarves, elves, men, a wizard." He eyed Gandalf carefully, "There is much unanswered about the hobbit. You speak vaguely of her as does Legolas. And though I didn't listen to her then, I believe the Lady of Lothlorien knows the creature's fate and influence far better than we."
"Indeed, I did not think that Lady Galadriel knew of the hobbit's presence in Rivendell those weeks ago, but it appears I am wrong on that score." The wizard smirked thoughtfully, "It would appear that the hobbit does INDEED have many more roles to play in deciding our fortunes."
And then Gandalf winked at Thranduil.
"Including, purveyor of clarity, wouldn't you agree?"
Thranduil frowned at Gandalf's obvious jest, his eyes narrowed.
But Gandalf could also see the curiosity burning behind the derisive façade. The elf king was genuinely curious about Lyla Baggins and her purpose and place so far to the East. And, Gandalf would admit this to no one, but a curiosity also burned within him as well. He was anxious to know of Galadriel's regard for the hobbit and what that meant for Lyla, for it was no small thing to be known to the elf queen with the gift of foresight.
That familiar nagging sensation tickled his brain and he felt, once more, that there was a piece of information he was overlooking.
But all questions and curiosities would have to be answered in time.
For now, they had a task to fulfill, and a very short window of time to do so.
"Come, then, we must prepare for the dawn."
The words had been spoken.
The tears had been shed.
Lyla had finally relished in the grief she'd held onto for so long. She'd finally spoken of her fears, her guilt, her family, all of it.
Well all that Thorin didn't already know.
He knew of Azog and the Trolls and the forest…
But not of her family.
She hadn't spoken to anyone of her feelings on that matter.
Until now.
Lyla knew that she should feel relieved and at peace and content. And she DID...
But she also felt the renewed scarring pain that she'd so carefully tucked away and ignored. And that pain made reality distort, made her thoughts slow. She seemed to lose concept of time as she drowned in the memories of her mother's stories by the fire, her father's exasperated smile whenever she came into the house caked in mud and Bilbo's playful banter whenever it was too cold to go outdoors.
Oh how she missed them.
She wasn't sure WHEN the crying had ceased or when she ended up back on her bedroll, wrapped in her blanket and Thorin's coat.
But that is where she found herself as she blinked back to reality.
Comfortable and warm…
And surrounded by the low bustling noise of the company as they prepared for the day.
Lyla's eyes travelled upwards to gaze at the sky and she was surprised by how light it was. The soft pinks and oranges of dawn were giving way to the rich blues of morning. Low clouds, white as snowdrops, slowly lazed overhead, propelled by the light, chilly breeze of Autumn. A single bird chirped somewhere in the distance.
Lyla bit back a sigh and started to rise. Best not to delay the journey.
A hand on her shoulder halted her movements and she was eased back down onto her bedroll.
She jerked in surprise and tried to roll away.
Thorin's deep, throaty chuckle reached her ears as he face appeared, looming over her.
"Easy, burglar," He murmured lowly.
"Sorry," she remarked, "You startled me."
Thorin smiled in understanding and amusement, though the sparkle of happiness didn't quite reach his eyes.
"So jumpy all the time," He remarked, "We must remedy that someday. But for now, rest a moment longer. It's been a trying night."
Lyla wanted to protest.
She wanted to declare that she could handle things just fine, thank you.
But today, her heart wasn't in it.
She didn't need to prove him wrong.
She didn't really want to prove how strong she was either.
She just wanted a moment of peace.
And that's what Thorin was giving her, so she wasn't going to spoil it.
Judging by his pinched expression, his wearied eyes, tight smile, and disheveled hair, the dwarf king could use a moment as well, for he had been through just as much emotional turmoil as she had.
A twinge of guilt sparked in her. He had comforted her, but had she returned the favor?
"Thorin?" She murmured, noting the way his gaze fixed on her intently, his eyes curious and piercing.
Lyla swallowed and scooted upwards, to the dwarf's protests.
But she'd have none of that.
"I ah, wanted to thank you and...apologize."
Thorin looked confused. "Apologize? Whatever for?"
She felt the familiar creep of warmth on her neck and averted her gaze in embarassment. "I, ah, I-that is," she cleared her throat lightly, "I know that you, you were very...kind to me last night and I feel as though...er...as though I let you down by not returning that kindness towards...you."
Her gaze flicked upwards and she noted that the confused expression had not changed, though the dwarf's blue eyes had softened.
And then he smiled and shook his head lightly.
"Stubborn creature. Always so stubbornly concerned about others before herself."
He gestured for her to lay back down, but when she didn't he sighed and nudged her shoulder with his hand.
"Do not be so hasty of assume that you did not bring me comfort," He murmured, as she got comfortable again, tucked under Thorin's wonderfully smelling coat. "In fact you brought more comfort to me than, I'm afraid, I brought to you."
When Lyla made to protest, he hushed her with a gentle hand on her lips.
"No. Do not worry about it. Just rest. We have a long day ahead of us."
So, with her heart fluttering and a strange sensation in her chest, Lyla let her eyes slip closed and relished in the soft warmth of the sun on her face.
And the even softer caress of fingers running through her hair as Thorin hummed a low tune.
Though her emotions were confused concerning the dwarf, she relished in the comfort Thorin's presence brought her.
It was quiet.
But as all things do, eventually, a soft shake of her shoulders roused her into alertness as Thorin murmured in her ear that it was time to prepare, and she rose to attend to pack for their ascent to the hidden doorway that led to the lower halls.
Or at least that's where Balin had told her they were going back on the boat.
She had just finished rolling up her bedroll and was attaching it to her makeshift pack when a large shadow dimmed her vision.
Lyla gazed up slowly, expecting to see Thorin, or Bofur or Dwalin.
She was surprised, however, to see Bifur standing before her, a rather serious look upon his face.
With wide eyes, she slowly rose to her feet and gazed at the dwarf carefully. She knew full well that Bifur could not speak Westron. His head injury prevented it.
But she knew that he could understand it well enough at least.
"Erm, uh, hello Master Bifur," she fumbled for words as the dwarf's unblinking gaze caught her off guard, "What-er-what can I do for you?"
At that question, Bifur finally blinked and stepped forward, muttering something in the secret language that only the dwarves knew. He reached forward and grabbed hold of Lyla's hand, his larger one coming to rest atop hers.
Something small, but heavy dropped into her palm and then Bifur was closing her fingers around the object slowly, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.
Carefully he pressed her hand against her chest and then, with his finger, he tapped his forehead and then tapped hers.
A gesture of affection.
Giving her shoulders a gentled squeeze, Bifur slowly turned and walked away, leaving a stunned hobbit staring after him.
She noted, too, that she wasn't the only one who appeared surprised. Fili and Kili had stopped their packing to watch the exchange, eyes alight in with fascinated wonder. And Bofur, too, wore a gaping, grinning, expression and gazed between Lyla and his cousin with a mixture of awe and confusion.
Lyla gazed down at her hand, pulling it away from her chest and slowly uncurling her fingers, her curiosity piqued.
A surprised smile split her face as her heart swelled with affection for the dwarf who couldn't speak.
But his gift spoke volumes.
In her hand was a spectacular carving of a star flower.
It was Lyla's favorite flower (though she wondered if the dwarf knew that bit of information)
But it was the meaning of the flower that sent warm tremors of appreciation down her spine.
All hobbits knew the language of flowers. And Lyla was dually surprised and impressed at Bifur's attention to the tiniest detail, (for each petal was delicate and lifelike) as well as his knowledge of flowers and their symbolism. She KNEW that his choice of flower could not be a mistake.
It was a fitting gift for one who was about face a dragon and Lyla noted that a small notch was worked into the back of the carving so that she might attach it to her leather necklace.
'They care for you…' Thorin's words echoed in her head as the healing pains worked to mend the rift in her heart, slowly helping to bind the wounds that resided there and making her feel...
whole.
She untied the leather and slid her treasured gift from Bifur next to Dis' ring (another irreplaceable treasure of friendship) and retied the leather around her neck, admiring the delicate beauty of Bifur's skilled craftsmanship again.
And she was thankful for the dwarves, her dwarves, and the little token now residing near her heart,
Her little symbol of courage.
