Answers to Reviews:
Auguruj: Yep, that's the one! And in this case, it's definitely true ^^ Aeolus is doing ok...he's sad that Fenna's not there, and is wondering where she is, but he's got Thranduil personally looking after him and spoiling him rotten, so he's as well as he can be in this situation...but he'll be much happier when he's reunited with Fenna of course! Oh yes, you'll be meeting him veeeeery soon...and it's going to be so much fun posting that chapter, as it was one of my favourites to write, so hopefully you guys will enjoy it just as much...and as for Fenna meeting Smaug personally? Well, you'll just have to see!
Christmas 95: Haha, guilty as charged! They do make quite the good pair though, so I can't help it :P Oh I know that feeling: too much to write, too little time in which to write it lol. And of course, I always love reading other peoples stories, especially if they read mine ^^
Me: *on top of the dome of the Duomo in Florence* Heeellooooooo down there! Sorry I didn't post on my usual date, but I didn't have time to do so as I was going away to Florence for a bit! But I'm back now, so I can throw a chapter down to you! *searches around in bag for the chapter I've got prepared*
Thranduil: *on the ground staring up at me in exasperation* No, you can just come down and give them the chapter in the normal way!
Me: *shouting back down* Oh hey Thrandy! Long time no see...and why would I do that? Is there anything normal about me?
Thranduil: No, there is not, but you could at least try for once! Who knows, you might even enjoy it!
Me: *thinking* Hmmm...maybe you're right...ok, give me a second to zip my bag up and make sure nothing's going to fall out of my pockets and I'll be right down!
Thranduil:...Oh, well, alright...wait, why do you need to zip your bag up and make sure your pockets are empty for a small trip down the stairs?
Me: *climbing to the very pinnacle of the Duomo* Who said anything about stairs?
Thranduil: But how...oh...no, no no no DON'T YOU EVEN DARE!
Me: Too late! *jumps from the dome* Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Thranduil: *panicking* Everyone get clear NOW!
52: Open Sesame
"We've found it, we've found it! We've found the door!" came Fili's excited cry as he, his brother and Bilbo tumbled back into camp in a bundle of smiles and wildly flailing limbs. There was a moment of stunned silence from the other Dwarves as the three returned members untangled themselves, before everything erupted into chaotic shouting and movement. I, for my part sat back and watched it all with a faint smile, my elven cloak wrapped tightly around me to keep out the chilly fall wind. I'd known that the door would soon be found – we'd been at the Mountain for five days now, and if Durin's day was on the nineteenth of this month as the Dwarves told me it was, then we had little time left – but I'd not known exactly when, so to hear it'd been found was a great relief.
At last, things are moving along, I thought, feeling a sliver of happiness returning to me as the Dwarves began slapping the three intrepid explorers on the backs. I'd been doing relatively ok until two days ago, even though the meat had just run out and all we had to go on was the little food I'd managed to ration, and the biscuit-like stuff called cram the people of Esgaroth had given us. Sure, I'd been longing to go back to Mirkwood, to wait until Smaug was dead and Thranduil's hand was forced, and I'd begun to have enough of wandering this way and that over ever rockier terrain as the Dwarves grew more and more desperate to find the door, but I'd kept it in check. However, when the meat had run out, and when the bad weather hadn't abated, the Dwarves' demeanours had drastically changed. Even the normally affable Balin had become prone to brooding silences, and Thorin…well, let's just say I stayed well clear of him whenever I could. Despite my best efforts, though, and despite those of the seemingly unshakable cheer of Bilbo, I'd felt myself growing more and more frustrated with everything, my temper exceedingly close to the surface despite the fact that my time of the month had just ended. My yearning for home – which one I could never quite tell – grew and grew, and I found it harder and harder to stick with the Dwarves and do all I could to help. I'd persevered, though, despite all of that, because I knew that sooner or later the door would have to be found, and the next part of this 'adventure' would begin.
Their laughing and back patting over for a moment, Balin and the others urged Kili, Fili and Bilbo to sit down and relate their tale, drawing in close around the crackling fire and leaning forwards with eager expressions. I, too, drew closer, for though I knew roughly how they'd found it from my memory of reading The Hobbit, it wasn't every day that I'd get to hear it from the mouth of one of the Dwarves who'd actually discovered it.
"And then we spotted a great wall of stone, as flat at the bottom as a mason's finest work, but without seam or joint or anything of the like!" Fili exclaimed with the widest grin I'd ever seen, his gestures wide and wild with a happiness so infectious that even Thorin couldn't help but smile.
"Aye, that sounds like the sort of door that would have been built," Balin said with a sagely nod. "Invisible to all but the sharpest eye, tricky to get to, and so seamless in its craft that it looks completely natural."
"Aye, it does…well done, the three of you," Thorin smiled, clapping the brothers and Bilbo heartily on the back – so much so that the poor Hobbit was almost sent sprawling to the floor. "Now we will have some purpose when the sun rises tomorrow…ahh, to see the inside of our home again," he sighed, a distant look flickering through his eyes. "…It's just a shame we'll have to leave the ponies down here whilst we try to find out how to open it, as from the sounds of it I doubt they can make it up there."
"I don't think that would be a wise choice," I interrupted, causing the dark haired Dwarf to spin swiftly about. I wasn't surprised that he, and almost everyone else, had forgotten I was there; the closer we'd come to the mountain and the possibility of finding the door, the more I was ignored in favour of Dwarvish company. It didn't help that, because I'd spent so long amongst the Elves, I'd naturally learnt to assume their still and silent ways even when moving.
"What would you have us do with them then? We cannot bring them with us – it will waste valuable time, and I do not think they'd manage it without a few injuries that we have not the resources to treat properly."
"Send them back to Laketown," I said, unflinching under the growing frown of the Dwarf king. One thing I'd most definitely not forgotten about this particular part in the story I was in was the fact that, after waking up and stealing from his lair for the first time in sixty years, Smaug would come in a great and terrible wrath looking for our company. Instead of Dwarves, however, he'd find terrified ponies, which he'd be swift to hunt and eat. Call me soft in the heart, call me weak, call me whatever was felt needed at the time, but if there was one thing I couldn't stand, then it was the unnecessary deaths of animals of any kind, but, of course, of horses and ponies in particular.
Thorin raised an eyebrow, a slight scowl masking his earlier merriment. "And why," he questioned, turning fully to face me even as the eyes of everyone else landed upon me, "Would we do that. We will still have need of them."
"For what, exactly? Sending for aid in order to kill Smaug, whom it is highly doubtful has keeled over in a mere sixty years? You will let no-one but this company of ours, and perhaps others of your kin should they ever come here, into Erebor, or so I find it easy to guess. If you are in need of a beggar of aid or a herald bringing good tidings to Laketown, then I will gladly go on foot if it means these creatures can end their duties here."
The Dwarf lord was silenced for a while by my words, a mixture of emotions rising and falling across his weathered features. Eventually, as a cloud covered the thinning moon, he murmured, "I know that you care dearly for the ponies and horses, Fenna – you can stay with them, if you so-"
"That's one of the reasons I want to send them back to Laketown, yes," I interrupted, "but the main reason is the dragon that lies within the mountain. Just say, for situations sake, that he were to awaken and come flying out of his lair in a terrible rage, and happened to spot the ponies all tied up in a neat little line with no minders about. What then? What would become of them?"
"…They'd be eaten," Bilbo offered, and I gave a sharp nod.
"Exactly. They'd be eaten up quick as lightning."
"…But, what's so bad about that?" chimed in Ori, to the muttered agreements of most everyone else. I shrugged – trying not to allow my tongue to run away with me, before answering.
"Well, not much…apart from the fact that ponies of this size, even thirteen of them, and a horse, don't make much of a meal for a dragon who has probably not eaten for a good few years – a bad habit of theirs. And what's worse than having a hungry dragon after you? Having a dragon who's only had the equivalent of a biscuit after practically starving himself after you.
"If you give him nothing to eat, should Smaug hypothetically awaken and go on a rampage, then he'll run out of steam and the will to chase you. Give him the barest morsel before running away, however, the barest taste of fresh meat, and he'll be on your tail for as long as you can run. Also, it would mean we'd have less things to worry about in the long run – because the grass in this little valley isn't going to last too much longer, and there's barely any fresh water in the near vicinity." There. Now, if that isn't pretty flawless logic, then I'm back at home eating a s'more by the fire…ha, I wish.
"That…actually makes a lot of sense," Bilbo said after a few moments of wind broken silence, and I gestured to him, and the couple of others who grudgingly mumbled something similar, in a there-you-go sort of way. Thorin, for his part, didn't look particularly impressed with my argument, but I hadn't expected as much given how close we were to the mountain, how strong the pull of the gold within its hundreds of chambers was getting over him. Worst comes to worst, I could always set them loose in the night when Bilbo's on watch – he at least seems to agree with me, I thought, gaze unwavering from Thorin's.
"We'll discuss this further in the morning," he said abruptly, before turning his back to me and drawing the others into conversation again, the laughter that was soon erupting from him a little more forced than it had been. Taken aback by the sudden change in conversation, I shot a really? look at Thorin's turned back before sending a dismissive wave his way and standing, heading for where our steeds were resting. Eru knew they were better company than the Dwarves at the moment.
The grass was bare and tinged with frost, the leaves of the trees long since fallen as winter gnawed at the end of autumn. Still, though, there was a measure of peace to be found even within a place so devoid of the life Thranduil was used to seeing in it. Aeolus and Rîrandír certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves, racing this way and that and sending a fine spray of ice into the air as they skidded about.
Thranduil smiled slightly as he watched the two of them, trying to enjoy this rare moment of peace in an ever busier and more dangerous life. It was a hard task, especially with no-one to truly voice his thoughts to…but made slightly easier by the news he'd received about an hour earlier.
"The mounts of the Dwarves, the Hobbit, and Fenna were spotted returning to Laketown yesterday morn, King Thranduil, without their tack and seeming no worse for the wear," one of the many scouts he'd sent out towards the edge of Mirkwood nearest the mountain had reported, and Thranduil had been hard pressed just to let a small amount of his relief show. It meant that Fenna was more than likely fine – well, as fine as she could be when travelling with thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit – and that no more Orcs or the like had managed to get to her.
When he'd heard the news that small party of Orcs had managed to slay the guards around the Lakeside camp Fenna's party had made and nearly succeed in killing off the Dwarves, to say he'd been worried had been an understatement. When the scout then continued with the fact that another company of Orcs, forty strong and capable fighters, had then stormed from the forest and engaged Bard and his men in battle, his worry had grown to almost visible levels. And then, when the scout had timidly added that Fenna, having sent the Dwarves galloping off to Erebor, and had stayed behind to help in the fight, Thranduil was more than prepared to ride out and drag his friend back to his halls by her hair, consequences be damned. He'd barely been appeased by the fact that Fenna, Bard and most of the others had come out alive, though a broken nose had been added to the list of injuries Fenna had received in her time here.
To hear that, by all accounts, Fenna was as safe and well as could be expected, and that everything was proceeding as it should be, or so he guessed, had set Thranduil's restless heart somewhat at ease, though he was still of half a mind to muster his forces and march on the mountain. But no. Fenna had said that he would know when the time was right…and at this point in time, the Elvenking did not believe it was.
Sighing quietly to himself, Thranduil glanced down at the empty crook of a tree root beside him, mind drifting back to the summer days he's happily spent here, the sweet smell of flowers and unbridled laughter of his mortal friend drifting on the warm winds. Now the flowers were long withered away, and the wind only had its own voice for company. Come next summer though...come spring, even, and everything would be as it had been. Thranduil would do all he could to make it so.
"Why the hell did you guys decide to make your door in such a way that its key hole could only be accessed on a certain day, by a certain light?" I groaned, only to find myself, as had become usual for the past few days, treated as if I were just another piece of rock on the side of Erebor. It was now Durin's Day, the nineteenth of October by my reckoning – nearly a full month since I'd joined this damned quest –, and the Dwarves were no closer to opening the door than they had been when I'd sent the ponies and Fëa back to Laketown four days ago. Thorin had, thankfully agreed to my request the morning after I'd asked for it, a night's sleep and finding the door seeming to have done the trick with most of his attitude, and so, with a fond farewell and directions I knew the mare would get the other ponies to follow, I'd sent them off with a whisper of Elvish good luck and a sad smile – they'd been the only spark of joy in a darkening day.
Now, though, I was wishing I'd gone with them. I'd known that we'd not be getting into Erebor until later on today, and that the Dwarves would be getting frustrated with their lack of progress, but this was on a completely different level. I'd thought they'd been hard to deal with when we'd been fruitlessly looking for the door, but now…well, Thorin was near unapproachable, a dark, brooding cloud hanging around him that rivalled even Thranduil's when he was in a foul mood. The happiness from when the door had first been discovered had long since vanished on the autumn wind, leaving only a bitter disappointment that bit into almost all of our party with frosted fangs.
At least Bilbo's somewhat happy, I thought with a sigh, meeting the Hobbit's gaze and returning his lopsided smile as he looked up from the faded map where the runes that had started this endeavour were written. Whilst not as cheerful as his usual self, owing to the complete lack of second breakfasts and dry places to camp amongst other things, he was still bubbly enough when I was able to ignore the whisperings of the ring enough to talk to him without flinching, and I found myself feeling a little better every time I did so.
"Blast and bugger it, we'll never get in before the end of today!" Dwalin cried, kicking at the flat face of the rock before slumping down beside the other few who'd decided to remain here in the little nook. The rest had wandered off in random directions, despair on their faces, and I doubted we'd be seeing them for a while.
Sighing quietly to myself, I stood, stretched, and headed for the continuation of the path that had led us here to the 'doorstep' of the mountain as the Dwarves and Bilbo had called it. None of the others had dared climb any higher than a few steps, too preoccupied with getting the door open and too wary of the blanketing silence up there, but for me it was somewhere I could actually find solitude. Somewhere where I could sort through my thoughts uninterrupted.
A few minutes of meandering later and I'd come to the ledge I'd claimed as my own – a small jut of rock above a basin like outcrop of the side of the mountain, so I was in no danger of falling down the entirety of Erebor unless I really put some oomph behind my throw. Right now, I'm actually quite tempted to, I thought with a slight smile, settling down on the smooth just of rock and dangling my legs into the air. I don't know how much more of their moaning I can take, despite knowing that it'll come to a sort of end soon enough…after that, it's only going to get worse, the nearer Thorin gets to the gold. I let out another sigh, staring out across the land and to the distant eaves of Mirkwood. From here, under the golden light of the sun, the forest didn't look so dark and full of shadows. From here, I could almost see it as it had been before Sauron had defiled it with his creations, as it had been when Thranduil had been younger and his father still alive, and I hadn't even been born. Hmmm.
My thoughts trailed restlessly about my head, the pain of longing for things I could not have that throbbed in my chest just another thing to add to my ever growing list of inconveniences.
An hour dragged by, the Dwarves doing more going than coming, and I wasn't much happier than I had been when I'd made my way up here. At least I can have this last chance to see the sun setting, I mused, shading my eyes against the fiery light. What with Smaug set to destroy this little outcropping later on tomorrow afternoon if this world's timeline is still as it should be, and with Thorin's paranoia that one of us is going to make off with the Arkenstone, there's no way I'll be getting out of the mountain in the evenings or mornings…or ever, until it's time for the war to be fought. I paused then, the reality of what was to come slapping me around the face like a wet fish. I didn't know exactly when the war was going to take place – some time in November was my best guess – but I knew enough to understand just how long I'd be in Erebor for; just how long I'd be away from a lot of things and people I cared about. Well shit. I scowled, shoving aside of home…of both my homes, as they threatened to push a lump into my throat and set my still bruised and healing nose aching worse than it already was. I hate it when I do this-
"Quick, quick, you have to come quickly!" came a sudden cry from the little nook the door was in, jolting me from my darkened thoughts. Blinking several times, I looked back down the path, to where I could just see the open roof of the 'doorstep.' As I did so, a thin white curve in the distant sky caught my attention; a pale sliver crescent just cresting the rim of the earth as the sun flared and began its death dance in the west. I smiled faintly, though it wasn't one all edged with happiness. So, the time has come for the next stage of our adventure.
Rising from my perch, I made my swift way down the path, arriving back in the grassy bay just as all barring Bombur, who was no doubt asleep, barrelled into the small space, breathless with worry from Bilbo's shouting.
"What? What is it lad?" Balin questioned as Thorin pushed his way to the front, ready to silence the Hobbit with a hissed curse and a mutter of dragons.
"The light! The last light of autumn! Don't you remember what Elrond told us the moon runes meant! 'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks," here Bilbo gestured to a magnificent specimen of said bird, its chest speckled with bright spots of gold, "and the setting sun, with the last light of Durin's Day, will shine upon the key-hole'! And here we have a thrush, who has been knocking up quite the racket for the past few minutes, and there we have the last light of Durin's Day – the moonlight!"
All fell quiet at Bilbo's proclamation, each mind turning over this information in their own way, each coming to the same conclusion; that the proof, if there was to be any, was to be in the waiting. I leant back against one side of the bay, wrapped in the lengthening shadows of the evening, watching with eager eyes as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon. The Dwarves, to, turned to face the dying light, eyes narrowed in anticipation.
Moments that could have been hours passed, each drawing a little bit more hope from the company. Even Bilbo, as a cloud scudded across what little curve of the sun remained, seemed to deflate.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, a last red finger of light pierced through the cloudy veil, just as the moon rose fully above the earth and sent its own silvery glow spearing into the bay. The two beams flared against the stone, drawing closer and closer to the centre of the door until-
With flick of its tail the old thrush gave a loud trill, almost drowning out the great CRACK of stone falling from stone. Beneath the now mingled light a hole had appeared, about three feet from the ground, and despite everything I felt a thrill run through me, shiver up my spine as Bilbo cried, "The key, the key that went with the map! Try it now whilst there is still time!"
Hands trembling, Thorin hurried forwards, fumbling twice before he managed to slot it into the hole. It fitted perfectly.
With a snap he turned the key. The gleam of the mixed light went out, the sun died for another day, the moon was covered by cloud, and evening sprang into the sky.
Silence again reigned king over us all. Slowly, with a glance back at the others, Thorin pushed upon the area around the keyhole. With nary a sound part of the rocky wall gave up its guise and became what it had so long ago been designed as – a door. Swinging silently open, and leaving a hole about five foot high and three across, it revealed a gaping hole in the mountain side, so full of darkness that it seemed a tangible thing.
We stood there, in the growing night, for an age. The Dwarves were quiet, though their eyes sparked with both a restless excitement and hesitant worry, and Bilbo was watchful, eyes darting between the darkened opening and Thorin, who for his part stood in the centre of the now revealed doorway, his back to us and one hand resting upon the edge of the door. At last, though, he spoke, his voice hoarse.
"At last, we are here. At last, we might reclaim Erebor...reclaim our home."
Next Time...
53 – 1: Into the Fire
"Well done, Master Baggins! You have proven your-" Thorin started to say, but before he could get much further than a great rumbling began to shake the ground, as if an ancient volcano beneath us had suddenly decided that now was the right time to burst back to life once more. It roared and bellowed beneath us, rattling loose stones and setting everyone cowering to the ground in fright as vibrations ran through our very bodies and seemed to shake the very air we breathed. So strong was it that the door Bilbo had come through was almost pulled to, and only stopped from closing by a rock that had skittered into its path as the mountain heaved and roars of pure, unfettered rage almost burst my ears drums.
Finally, after what felt like an age, the bellows ceased, the crashing stopped, and for a moment all was calm. And then another crash, greater than any before and shuddering through the whole mountain, sounded in the distance, and soon it was followed by what sounded like a sheet the size of Esgaroth beating with the ferocity of a thunder storm against the sky. A quick glance about told me all the Dwarves knew exactly what was going on, and another told me that they weren't likely to move from their deer-in-the-headlights positions any time soon.
"Guys, if you don't want to be roasted alive or mauled to death then I suggest you haul your asses up and into the tunnel quick as you can!" I hissed, dragging a dazed Bifur from the floor and hustling him towards the tunnel, where a sensible Bilbo was already waiting. It took a moment, but when my words hit home the Dwarves were practically scrambling over themselves to get into the safety, albeit smelly, darkness of the tunnel.
"W-wait! My cousins, Bofur and Bombur! We've forgotten them; they're down in the valley along with our supplies!" Bifur suddenly cried, rushing from the rugby scrum of Dwarves and back out, cringing as the sounds of Smaug's anger echoed across the stones and down into the valley. Light flashed far above our heads, sheets of crimson and scarlet flame just visible if I craned my neck to look at the cloudy summit of the mountain.
"Don't worry – we'll get them. Now, go inside, Balin, Bilbo, and you too, Fili and Kili – if that damned beast comes for us, then he shan't have all of Durin's line!" Thorin cried, dragging those he hadn't named from the bundle at the door and back out into the grassy bay. Fili and Kili made to protest, but before they could I'd grabbed my bag from the rock I'd perched it on and hustled them inside, muttering,
"They'll be fine, now get inside before I throw you to the dragon myself!" as I did so, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I'd not even seen Smaug, yet his roaring and beating of his wings upon the wind was enough to send terror sliding cold hands down my spine.
Me: *grinning madly, hair tangled and wind tussled, in the middle of a giant, scorched crater* That was so much fun! Hey, hey Thranduil did you see how I stuck the landing? I even did the superhero thing of landing on one knee and looking awesome as I did so...Thranduil?
*Thranduil's nowhere to be found. In fact, the square around the Duomo is empty even of tourists.*
Me: Huh...where'd they all go? I mean, it's not like I was going to land on anyone and-*is cut off by an ominous rumbling sound*
*Behind me, the Duomo begins to shake. Pieces of marble start to crack and fall, and in a split second the entire structure is crumbling to pieces, sending a wave of dust and debris into the air.*
Me: *following the crack my landing left in the ground, and realising it leads straight into the ruins of the Duomo's foundations* Oh...oops...really oops this time...right I'm outta here byeeeeeee *runs away as fast as possible, snagging an ice cream from a deserted Gelato shop as I go*
