Dale lay in desolation, its crumbling buildings laid bare. Bodies littered the streets; those of men, elves, orcs, and trolls. The survivors of Laketown had withdrawn to the last standing structures to rest, too weary even to clean the streets.
Thranduil nodded to the triumphant souls he passed; their faces as haggard as his. He and his company made their way to the far regions of the city, where the elven tents rested. About a third of his army remained and, though tired and bloody, the elves hailed their King.
Thranduil replied with a single command. "Rest." And went to follow his own advice.
Bard peeked tentatively into Thranduil's tent, it had been two days now since the end of the battle and he wondered if the elf King still slept.
He met the commanding eyes of Mirkwood's monarch and stepped inside. Thranduil pressed a goblet of wine into his hands and gestured for him to be quiet.
"I thank you for your aid," Bard said, turning the goblet in his hands. "We would not be here without you."
"It took more than me to win this war," Thranduil answered. "We were all in it together and that is the only reason we stand here now. You have your home back. And the gold to rebuild it."
"I wish I could say the same for you."
"The forest will grow back," Thranduil said. He smiled. "Your condolences are most kindly accepted."
"Hem!" growled a voice, and Bard turned to meet Thorin's level stare.
"I demand a moment alone with King Thranduil."
Bard put down his empty cup, nodded to the Kings, and retreated. Thorin watched the tent flaps dispassionately until they stilled.
"Do not tell me you are here with condolences as well," Thranduil said, a hint of a smile in the corner of his eyes.
In his cot, Brenen stirred and his brothers also shifted. At Thranduil's glare, Thorin managed to key his voice down a notch. He brought out a flat case from his belt, followed by a large pouch of black velvet and set them down on the table.
"Given the past," he said. "I figure you are owed these at least."
Thranduil knew without looking the sparkling jewels of white starlight lay in the darkened receptacles. He bowed his head. "I thank you for your gift, Thorin."
"I know you did not come for the jewels," Thorin answered. He shifted and Thranduil eyed him keenly.
"I had hoped you and your bending friends might craft a jewel akin to Realn's crystal to replace the Arkenstone," Thorin finally admitted.
Thranduil tilted his head. "After all we have been through, I consider that a fair request. It shall be presented to you at your coronation."
"The ceremony will be held in two days," Thorin said. He glanced at Brenen. "I know the battle took its toll on many."
"He will be back on his feet soon," Thranduil said, walking Thorin to the door. "You must excuse me; I am expected to deliver an uplifting speech to my people."
"You sound as if you enjoy it."
"Indeed, I do. Rivers of inspiration flow from me. I have always enjoyed the application of my many—" Thranduil tripped and grabbed the tent pole for support.
Thorin flung his head back and chuckled, the deep rumbles coming from his stomach. He accosted a passing elf and pointed to Thranduil. "Your inspiring visage is overflowing at the ears with wine."
The elf grinned. "How unlike our King to land himself in the drink at the last minute. It has been centuries since the last time."
The elf went to give Thranduil his arm and lead him back inside as Thorin strolled away, his laughter attracting the curious gazes of many an elf more.
Behind him, Thranduil slept, and peacefully slept until the day of Thorin's coronation, where he awoke to the chagrin of his sons as they stood over at the table and admired the starlit jewels.
"I see you are awake," Brenen said, folding his arms. "Perhaps you will settle the debate of who gets to wear it."
"There is no debate," Thranduil said, folding his arms in turn. "I, as King, will wear it."
Realn punched Brenen on the arm and chuckled. Brenen complained, "How unfair."
"You will have a chance to adorn yourself with a crown of star filled jewels as soon as we return home and give the stones to our jewelers to set," Thranduil said. "I do not see an argument."
"It would be my luck to end up with a single crown," Brenen grumbled, glancing at the wooden case, where the lone crown twinkled and teased him.
"A single crown but an abundance of jewels," Thranduil said. "We will have crowns fashioned for all of us."
"But you, of course, have the honor of wearing this one to the crowning ceremony," Brenen exclaimed.
Realn and Legolas exchanged grins as they straightened the collars of their silk tunics and swung the cool folds of their dark blue cloaks around their shoulders.
"Change, muindor, or we will be late," Legolas admonished. "The crown does not go as well with our blue as it does ada's black."
"It is always refreshing to see one's siblings support him!" Brenen cried, as he flung on his tunic.
Thranduil turned to take up his long tunic, the end sweeping the ground. The black cloth was threaded with silver. He and Brenen changed, pinned on silver and blue cloaks, and left the tent with their hair loose. Brenen shot the sparkling jewels on his father's brow a jealous look before he sprinted ahead to catch his brothers.
The streets of Dale were swept and cleared; streams of people made their way toward Erebor, their laughter rising and falling in the early light of dawn. The Mirkwood elves mixed with the humans, simple clothes almost letting them blend in.
Only a few traces of blood and several broken blades marked the ground where carnage had once reigned.
His sons walked ahead, jostling each other in a manner uncalled of by a Prince, but Ciran, Ellhamier, and Raileen fell into step beside Thranduil. The cut of their tunics was identical save for color; Ciran wore blue, Ellhamier green, and Raileen white.
"You are out of color for your bending, Thranduil," Ellhamier said.
"Black is the color of embers and coals," Thranduil said.
"Dead embers," Ellhamier sneered.
"You will find out how dead I am if you keep up," Thranduil warned.
"It is a constant grievance to me my hair does not compliment the color of my robes," Raileen said, twirling a strand of red hair on one finger.
Ellhamier scrutinized him. "I dare say you are right. You resemble a blood drop on snow."
"One can tell you are feeling uppish," Raileen returned.
"Given my earth bending, I am rather grounded. Downish, you might say. It is you who is uppish. Always floating away."
"Have you nothing to say?" Thranduil teased his brother.
Ciran smiled. "I think of my son."
"Jaiz is sure to be fine," Ellhamier said. "That elf knows what it is to have fun, even if you left him in charge of Mirkwood's guard back home. He must have conquered the country by now!"
Ciran sighed. "That is why I am worried."
The foursome entered Erebor through the front gates. The rubble formerly littering the halls had been swept away. Ellhamier gestured and winked to Thranduil, "I was hard at work here while you slept."
The stone floors were clean, echoing with the tramp of feet winding toward the throne hall. It teamed with men, elves, and dwarves, the bright colors of their garb filling the grey, torch-lit hall.
Thorin stood by his throne, the dwarves of his company standing close at both sides of his chair. Dressed in polished armor, each dwarf made a confident display of might, their hair and beards adorned with gold, trinkets, and charms.
"Friends, family, countrymen," Thorin said. "We are gathered here to celebrate the defeat of a hated enemy. The orcs and Smaug no longer threaten our borders."
Thranduil smiled as the cheering began. Thorin gave it but a few seconds before he bellowed, and the hall fell quiet. "People of Dale, the gold to rebuild Dale is yours! The city will be restored to its former glory and sit before Erebor with pride instead of groveling as it does now."
Bard stepped forward. "On behalf of the people of Laketown, I thank you. We will be proud to rise up from the ashes of our ancestors."
Thorin nodded. He continued, "We are gathered here to mark the day I reclaim my heritage! When Dale fell, when my people were driven from these halls, I grieved and swore vengeance. Now, despite the prophecy, I stand here, in the stead of my father and forefather, as King Under the Mountain!"
Thorin bowed to one knee to allow Bilbo to place the crown on his head; a simple affair of gold studded with diamonds. He rose to the yells of the dwarves mingled with the cries of men and the elegant clapping of the elves.
Thranduil stopped before the throne. In the sudden quiet, he bowed. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, I am honored to have fought alongside you. I, Thranduil Oropherion, offer you a gift to seal our alliance."
Thorin noted Thranduil wore the jewels of starlight well. A thrill ran through him as Ciran, Ellhamier, and Raileen joined Thranduil, offering first their bows.
The elf King held up his hand and a flame flickered to life. Raileen's fingers joined his, wrapping a globe of air around the flame and lifting it from Thranduil's hands. The flame flickered as Ciran enclosed the ever-flowing air in a thin sheet of glistening water, reflecting deep riverbeds within it. The light leapt and danced as Ellhamier sealed the little world into a perfect ball of pure crystal. He offered it to Thorin with a flourish.
"King Thorin, I present to you a King's Jewel, birthed from the very elements that bind this earth into what we breathe and life from."
Thorin took the globe with a trembling hand, feeling how cool the stone was. It sparkled, dancing to the layers sealed within as he held it up to the light.
"My gratitude is sincere. The beauty of this gem will stand forever in these halls, as a symbol that elves and dwarves can live together. In harmony."
He set the new heart of Erebor into its place above his throne and found it to be a perfect fit. He nodded his head to the room and sat back into the great chair.
As the cheers died, Kili stepped forward. "The jewel may stand strong as an emblem of friendship between earth and trees, but the friendship will run deeper than a vein of gold. I have asked Tauriel of Mirkwood to be my wife. And she said yes."
A shudder of horror rippled through the dwarves of the Iron Hills and the elves gave vent to a small intake of surprise.
"Do something!" Brenen hissed down Thranduil's ear. "The silence is unbearable!"
"What can I do?" Thranduil said, as Tauriel stepped up to take Kili's hand. "I may be King, but I do not command hearts."
Brenen snorted. Thorin flung himself into the breach. "Today is a day for history's making! The Arkenstone is gone. I stand alongside an elf my kin have despised form decades. But he is my friend." He nodded to Brenen. "He saw past racial hatred. I welcome to union of dwarf and elf; may Durin shine upon you both."
"The valar will not be far behind," Thranduil said.
Dain muttered, "It is an insult to the past."
"The past is the past, cousin," Thorin said. "This is the future."
I have always loved looking ahead to the future. It is to the future that I look now as I think of what to write next. I love both Nin Chronicles and Benders but the close of a story always sends me spiraling into doubt of the tales ahead. Do I have tales to share ahead or have my words died? I apologize for the short notice but
Next Chapter: Is the LAST chapter.
