Chapter Seventeen: One Ring to Rule them All
ooo
Water surrounded him. He could not swim to the surface. All he could do was sink as a stone dropped into a still lake. Music, that made his mortal ears ache, danced around him. Light faded into darkness as he fell into watery depths.
Hands grasped his. He turned his gaze from the dark depths into honey eyes that almost seemed to glow golden. Llor sank alongside him, hand in each of his. She looked at him with worry but determination squared her jaw. She pulled him close and moved her hands around his waist. Fíli hugged her back and closed his eyes at the warmth.
Uncomfortable heat washed over them from below. He snapped his gaze over her shoulder and down. The dark depths were lit with fire.
The flames swallowed them. Llorabell tightened her arms around his waist. She twisted about just enough to see what he did. Molten rings rose before his eyes as they sank.
Three. Seven. Nine. One.
Shadows danced about until one grew long and shifted into a sickly figure. The shadow lightened into a gray cast elf king. Thranduil lifted his hand and stretched out his fingers towards Fíli. A golden band glowed in the fire light. Behind the elf, the fire blinked into an eye.
Fíli jerked awake with a stifled gasp. His heart beat in his ears. It took a moment for him to recognize the sturdy dwarven ceiling above his head. He was within Erebor's walls.
His pillow shifted. Heat radiating from his side moved. Kíli looked down at him with heavy lidded eyes.
"Fee?"
"I'm alright," Fíli said with a crack to his voice. Vaguely he recalled them pushing their cots together, like they had done as children.
Dark eyes focused as Kíli woke fully. His brother searched Fíli's face for something before he sat up. "I'm marrying Haip."
Fíli frowned up at his little brother and tried to speak up. Balin had explained it well enough. "Kee–"
"You were captured," Kíli said defensively, not letting Fíli actually speak, "We had to regain Erebor, even with the whole hollowed out earth issue...Erebor had to be retaken so we could barter with Thranduil for you all."
He stared at his brother, feeling helpless at what Kíli had given up for him. There was nothing to do about it. Still he couldn't help but say his piece. "You should be allowed your One."
Kíli shrugged and looked away with a grimace. "It's better this way." He looked back to Fíli. "Do you think the elves will honor this alliance?"
Fíli pushed himself upright. He stared over the stone desk and wall of drawers. A lantern sat in the middle, it's oil was low, the wick had grown short. Kíli had left it lit. A stave rested against the wall besides Kíli's main bow and the Erborian bow Kíli had claimed so many months ago. It took a moment for Fíli to place the stave. Haip had given his brother her bill.
They were courting. There was nothing to do but accept that.
"Fee?"
He turned back to his brother. "Uncle will have to decide–"
"He'll have to honor whatever you agreed to."
"I agreed to an alliance to regain Erebor and re-establish Dale...I do believe they'll honor it," Fíli explained quietly, "They'll aid in destroying the orcs...I think they hope to capture Thranduil while at it."
Kill scoffed. "Then we'll just find him first."
Fíli rolled out of the cot and poured a mug of water. His dream haunted him as he stared at the liquid that almost killed him.
His brother clapped his shoulder. "Fee?"
He looked up at his taller, younger brother. "I think Thranduil possesses the One Ring."
Kíli dropped his hand in surprise. His dark eyes were wide as he breathed out, "What?"
Fíli looked back down at his untouched mug. "I haven't told anyone else."
"Shouldn't we?"
He pivoted and stalked over to his armor. Fíli dressed as he considered the question. But the only person he felt comfortable telling was Tharkun. It was ridiculous when considering everything the wizard had done when giving the Arkenstone and Llorabell to Thranduil originally. The gray wizard would know what to do with such a ring, though.
The strange music filled vision came to mind. Rings of molten metal crafted by skills taught originally by the Maker. The ring was made of the earth, through knowledge of Mahal. Shouldn't returning it undo the tainted magics?
It seemed right.
"Would you trust another elf with it?" Fíli looked up from his armor. New determination settled him. "The ring tainted Thranduil. It tainted his closest elves—Lord Elrond admitted as much without knowing the source. We cannot allow it to fall into elven hands."
Kíli stared across the room. His brow furrowed at Fíli's words. "Do you think...Thranduil didn't torture any of us before. Did he torture you because the ring made him do it?"
Fíli jerked back. His brother offered his elven torturer an out. "He nearly killed me, Kíli."
Dark eyes shined with tears. "Yes. Uncle nearly got all of us killed too, when caught under the gold sickness." He stepped towards Fíli slowly. "I'm not saying we forgive him but can we kill him when it's possibly his actions weren't his own? If they aren't his own and we kill him, we will ruin any hope of a lasting peace with Mirkwood or the other elves. And we would have killed someone in the same position Thorin had been in."
Blue eyes locked with brown but all Fíli could think of was the endless torture, the days of terror wondering if it would be his last, the sorrow of never seeing his kin and kith again, and the desperate wish for Llorabell, for Kíli, for Uncle, his mother or father, anyone to come and save him. All of it was because of a single elf. Fíli couldn't see how a magic ring, no matter how devious and evil it might be, gave the elf such an excuse to escape retribution.
"If I find him, I will kill him." Fíli stated.
Kíli stared worriedly at him. "Fíli–"
"Uncle never tortured anyone," snapped Fíli, "Uncle wasn't responsible for any of our lives. It was a battle! All any of us could do was attempt to keep ourselves and any comrade within reach alive. The gold sickness did not bring orcs onto the mountain! Gold sickness did not cause Tharkun to hand Llor and the Arkenstone over to that elf! It was logical to send for Dain—who wouldn't jump at a chance to take a mountain full of gold from a small party of dwarrow? An army was needed, no matter if Thranduil had marched onto us or not."
"Any hope for an alliance–"
"Any elf foolish enough to think Thranduil will walk out of this mountain alive isn't pivotal for the alliance. Elrond nor Celeborn could possibly think a dwarf would suffer that twice damned bastard to live!"
Kíli grasped Fíli's shoulders. "Prince Legolas is his son!"
He jerked out of his little brother's grasp and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. Startled stares of various company members greeted him in the makeshift mess hall. Two scrambled up and after him as he swept from the room. Fíli was too furious to pay any mind to which.
ooo
Llorabell snapped awake. Sweat covered her. The first dream she had with Fíli, of Fíli, since leaving Moria and it had been a nightmare.
She rose, tucked a blanket about her shoulders, and stepped from her room amongst the roots of Lothlorien's mallorn trees. Starlight peeked through the canopy of silver green leaves slowly turning golden. Autumn was coming to the world once more. It would soon be a year since she had seen Fíli or the others in the company. It was strange to think that another year had nearly past and she was here, far away from the Shire.
Once she had never thought to leave Bag End and the rolling, green hills of Hobbiton. Now she would never go back—could not. She had signed a contract that had changed her. It had turned her entire life upside down. She had gone from Llorabell Baggins, daughter of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins, Head of the Baggin clan, lady of Bag End, and all around well-to-do bachelorette ripe for the courting to Llorabell of no family, with no kin but bonded of Prince Fíli of Erebor, Uslukh'omrid, Buhâ'oDurinur, Buhâ'oErebor, and adventurer.
She was ready for the adventuring to end. She had traveled from West to East and back again. She had visited three of the remaining elven kingdoms, traversed over and under the Misty Mountains, meet a skin changer, two of the five wizards wandering the world, and the majority of the great elven lords and ladies still on Middle Earth in this Third age. Llorabell had fought giant spiders, orcs, goblins, trolls, strange creatures from the deep, elves, and a dragon. She had nearly died from falling down into the depths of the Misty Mountains, from drowning during an escape from elven hands, by dragon fire, and battle against orc and elf. She had been judged and found wanting by protective and tradition-driven dwarrow, and by ent and kin. Llorabell had bonded with a dwarf, had heard the voices of rock and gem and wrought metal. She had communed with the heart of the world and had killed a dragon.
Now Llorabell just wanted to fix a broken promise, heal Erebor and its surrounding lands, and tuck herself into Fíli's arms for a proper night's sleep. She was almost to the end, though so much was yet to be done.
She was tired.
Something drew her gaze from the night sky. Galadriel stood at the end of the small courtyard. She glowed like a star herself, dressed in silver and whites. Their eyes met. Then the elf turned and silently walked away.
Llorabell followed.
They walked through the courtyards and paths between the giant trees until they came to a small, private space. The ground was covered in spongy moss and stepping stones. Bushes and climbing ivy surrounded the tree roots, encasing the area. A mirror lay on a stone pedestal. It had tall edges that captured water over its surface. Galadriel came to a stop before it and turned to watch Llorabell come to her.
"Not many look into its depths. Few have come to me which could use such guidance," the elf stated softly, "You may see what is, what was, or what may yet come to pass."
"The future is never set before it becomes the present. It is not stone to use for firm footing. The past is unchanging and unmoveable. Only seek that which to learn," whispered the pedestal.
"But much can be learned if you take a look," added one of the bushes. More spoke up with their own helpful advice. Some of the stepstones began to argue with the bushes on the matter of believing in the visions.
"Why would I look?" Llorabell asked as she stared at the pedestal and ignored the bush. It was difficult to focus on a person when the world was talking at her but she was slowly getting the hang of it. The world may also have started to quiet down once more too. She didn't think she could hear as many voices about her.
Galadriel turned to the mirror herself. She traced the edge with a finger as she stared into the water and the mirror. From Llorabell's angle it reflected the star filled sky. The elf spoke with a mark of confusion in her tone, "Of late, I see you and a blond dwarf hand in hand. You are surrounded by water in one turn and fire in the next. Water has touched you both but fire wishes to devour you." She turned back to Llorabell. "I do not see futures any longer. All is within shadow or fog. It has been so since only weeks after you left."
Llorabell shuffled closer but didn't look into the mirror. She pressed a hand to the pedestal as she prepared herself to look though. The hobbit looked up at the elf and asked one last thing. "Did you hear music surrounding us?"
Galadriel's brows rose. "No but never have I heard anything within the visions of my mirror."
She nodded in understanding before she finally rose on her tiptoes and looked in. Water rippled across the mirror. Pinpoint stars glowed on the water's surface. Shadowed reflections of leafy canopies danced in wind. She did not see herself reflected within the water. That was the first mark towards the magic of this water, or mirrored bowl.
Another ripple rocked out in a circle from the centerpoint. With it fire consumed the water. Orcs marshaled within Erebor, pushing back the combined armies of dwarves, elves, and men. Shadows danced over their grotesque forms and a shadowed figure stood at their backs, guiding their movements. The tight quarters caused difficulty for the elves and men but it was the power and skill of this general that caused the most trouble.
The fire surrounding her shifted. Nine cloaked men drew swords as they advanced towards her. A ripple rocked across the surface, displacing the vision of the armored men.
Saruman the White came into focus. He stood with dark haired men. The wizard pressed a hand to one's shoulder and then stepped back. A white hand print was left behind. The men turned away as another ripple shifted the vision.
A myrtle tree above a familiar round, green door rose. The brass handle glinted with sharp light. The view shifted and she was facing the hills right outside her hobbit door. Dark haired men dragged hobbits into chained lines down Bagshot Row. The Shire was burning.
A tower rose in the distance. It was dark and forbidding. A fire sprang from the burning hills and settled at the pinnacle. It blinked and an eye of flame twisted towards her.
Llorabell took unsteady steps back from the mirror.
Then Galadriel was before her, steadying her and crouching over her. She searched Llorabell's face. Worry creased her brow.
Llorabell was certain she was pale. She felt shaky and nauseous. She didn't know what to think. What she had seen made little sense. She couldn't tell what was the past and the present and the future.
The hobbit knew that Erebor was going to be retaken but were they working on that already? There were dark haired men attacking merchant caravans near the Shire but were these men connected to Saruman?—Was Saruman an enemy then?
It all swam about in her mind as she tried to piece it all together. Her dream came to mind as she turned over the vision. The flaming eye had been in the dream also. They were connected. She tried to recall her dream but all she could remember was hugging Fíli, twenty molten metal rings floating before them, and Thranduil standing in the shadow of the flaming eye.
"Twenty rings," breathed out Llorabell. Something nagged at her thoughts, just at the edge of memory. Her shoulder was squeezed. Llorabell met Galadriel's wide eyes. "That means something to you?"
The elf raised her other hand. On her hand was a delicate, blue-silver ring with a white stone that glittered with blue light so vibrantly Llorabell almost thought it a tiny Arkenstone.
"Nenya," breathed out Llorabell, all the ring lore she had read while in Orthanc surfaced. She snapped her gaze back up at the elf, her eyes round as she realized. She rushed out a haphazardly remembered poem, focused more on the numbers than the correct words, "Nine rings for mortal men, seven rings for dwarven lords, three rings for elves, and one ring for the dark lord on his dark throne. Twenty rings."
"What did you see?" Galadriel demanded.
Llorabell stared at the elf as she considered the lore. What struck her was something she had thought odd and assumed inaccurate at the time, the One Ring was the simplest of the rings in design. It was a simple golden band.
The ring Thranduil had taken from her was a simple golden band. The earth had warned her from it, she recalled now. And Thranduil had changed slowly once he wore it. The dream of Thranduil rose once more.
"Thranduil has the One Ring." gasped Llorabell. His diminished, colorless appearance rose in memory. With it came the single spot of color on his person: the golden band on his finger. (She did not know if she was projecting her fears or remembering her dream.) "It is consuming him."
"We must speak with only those most trustworthy." Galadriel decided with the sharp confidence of an ancient being. "You cannot delay leaving, either. What is your opinion of your cousin and the dwarf, Gimli?"
Llorabell paused in surprise. "What?" The elf turned from Llorabell and tipped the water from mirror back into a pitcher. "The ring gives you power over water." Llorabell blurted out as she realized how she had seen such visions.
"Yes," Galadriel confirmed, "And the One Ring will give Thranduil power over us all if we do not take it from him. And it will twist him until it can guide his steps to the East and to Sauron. Word of the resurfacing of the One Ring must not reach tempted ears. It must not spread for any that wish power will seek it."
The Lady of Lothlorien knelt before Llorabell and took a hand between both of hers. "I trust Haldir and Glorfindel to stay true to the task before you but I know not your cousin nor the dwarf. Can we trust them?"
Llorabell stared, struck by her first statement. "Do you not want it?"
A potent pause grew into a silence thick with tension. Nothing spoke. There weren't even the vrooming and whispers of the earth and plants to fill the world. No crickets nor hoots of owls. Nothing.
"The One Ring?" Galadriel choked out at last. The hands encasing Llorabell's tightened and the hobbit saw a crack in the elf's demeanor. "Power...you offer me such power that I would rule over all. I would be your Queen and you would love me as much as you would fear me." The elf's jaw clenched. She dropped Llorabell's hand. Her eyes lit with power as she stared at the hobbit lass. A thought flickered across her ethereal face and shattered the moment.
"No," her voice cracked as she spoke, "No, I will not claim it.—Do not ask me such if ever you bare it in my presence."
The hobbit jerked a nod in understanding, unable to blink at the sight of such a proud and powerful elf humbled. She licked dry lips and forced the conversation onward. "Adalgrim and Gimli can be trusted. I know they can."
"Then let us gather your companions. You must leave at first light."
Llorabell started. "But...why?"
Galadriel rose to her feet. Her white robes were pristine though she had knelt upon moss and stone. "Gandalf and Glorfindel traveled to Khazad-dûm at your husband's word that Thranduil might go there, for you. Saruman believes otherwise. He believes Thranduil is within Erebor. And the Longbeards siege Erebor as we speak."
ooo
His sled glided over the brown lands. Radagast guided his rabbits with all speed. From the Iron Hills he had investigated how far the damage of the land stretched.
Far. Far. Far too far, it stretched.
But it didn't go on forever.
The Iron Hills were untouched and all the land East of the Cernen river had no sign of degradation. The Celduin river was not so clear a barrier. Perhaps it was because of the Brown lands but the land was dying. Of course, the Brown lands had been harmed before all this.
It went all the way to the Western shores of the Sea of Rhun. And he feared it traveled all the way down to Ered Lithui.
Radagast shifted in his place and grasped the sled with sweaty hands. Ered Lithui was the Northern border of Mordor. He did not want to go there but it was his duty to care for the beast and lands of Middle Earth. He was asked to go to the East to care for the Lady's children and this was part of that duty.
His rabbits crested another hill and jumped about in surprise terror, forcing the sled to bounce about, dodging the herd of antelope fleeing past them. Radagast clung to his sled in shock at the sudden movements. It had been far too long since he had traveled through a stampeding herd of anything.
A warg lunged at the sled.
Radagast cried out in surprise and walloped the nose with the end of his staff. The warg howled in pain.
More antelope dodged past the sled and rabbits as Radagast ducked low and searched the area with round eyes. A whole pack of wargs harried the herd of antelope. Beyond the immediate area, clouds danced over a large force. It took a moment to realize the clouds danced because they were hundreds and hundreds of bats. And they were offering shade to an encampment of orcs, goblins, and other foul creatures. Siege machines rested to one side, all pointed North.
An army of Sauron was headed North.
There was only one destination he could think of: Erebor. But why? Sauron must have emptied most of Mordor.
He needed to speak with Gandalf. He would know what to do.
ooo
A large tent had been erected before the gates of Erebor. Elven and dwarven guards stood at attention, keeping eavesdroppers and busy buddies away from the conference of races. The elven lords sat across from the dwarven ones. A group of men sat to their right and a wizard sat to their left.
Kíli listened with half an ear as each group argued and debated over the temporary alliance. He was too distracted by the possibility of the One Ring resurfacing to give the meeting any true attention.
The dwarf prince glanced at his brother at his side. Seated beside Uncle, Fíli's and Thorin's masks of calm were nearly identical. Fíli didn't seem worried about Thranduil possessing the Ring. He must have a plan.
Except his brother was changed. He was worn and exhausted and terribly distrustful. Kíli couldn't help but worry at Fíli's ability to think clearly. It would have been so much better if Fíli could go back to the Iron hills and properly heal.
He looked back across the way to the elven lords. Couldn't they trust the elves now?
Lord Elrond had healed his brother and company. He had opened his home to them. The elf lord had given advice and allowed them to continue on their quest.
Lord Celeborn had given refuge to Bilbo. He had invaded another elven kingdom to save his brother and company from the unjust torture. He had come to aid in the reclaiming of Erebor.
Prince Legolas had aided Bilbo in battle—he recognized the elf that had cut a line through the battle with their hobbit in tow. He had helped Tharkun in escaping the massacre with Bilbo. He had opened his kingdom to invading elves to stop his father.
They did it all on Bilbo's request. But more, they were here to find a resolution within these eastern lands because it impacted their lands also. No one was selfless, not even elves. The elves pushed for their advantage during the talks.
Kíli pressed his lips together as he listened to the argument over trade. It wasn't supposed to be part of the discussion, not until after Erebor was reclaimed but it kept coming back up. The elves kept bringing it forward. They wanted to press their advantage while they could.
Fíli was right to not trust these elves. Perhaps, Kíli thought, his connection to an elf colored his view of it all. (His One was an elf and might be here. Would his One take advantage of his kin? All signs pointed towards yes.)
It was understandable that the elves would push for their people's advantage. Uncle and Dain, and the men did the same. But they did it now, when the orcs rallied during their delaying. The possible retaliation by the monstrosities infesting the mountain could be detrimental.
Then there was the One Ring. What would the elves do if they gained the advantage of the One Ring? It was a dangerous power and one that could taint them. Thranduil had proven as much.
Fíli and he couldn't take care of it on their own, though. Uncle could not help. The Ring may take any residue gold sickness and twist him beyond the terrible change done to him before. That meant they couldn't keep it as there was no way to keep the Ring away from Uncle within a mountain kingdom.
They would have to destroy it or give it to someone else. Kíli turned his gaze to the single wizard. The wizard turned from the conversation and met Kíli's gaze for a moment. Then he returned to whatever Elrond was saying.
Saruman the White was Tharkun's superior. If anyone knew how to destroy a ring of power, it would be him. And, if it could not be destroyed, the wizard would know what to do with it.
It did not take long before the council broke for a long break. The dwarrow headed back into the mountain as the elves and men went the opposite direction.
Kíli looked to his brother. Fíli settled at the table between Thorin the Younger and Bombur. Jealousy spiked through Kíli at the camaraderie between cousins. He should be the one seated by his brother but Fíli was still angry at him. Kíli scooped up a mug and plate, then stalked into his room. If he was unwanted, he would eat on his own.
Guilt and frustration warred in him as he claimed his table, empty of their various weapons. He hadn't meant to anger Fíli. It wasn't that he didn't want Thranduil dead.—The elf had almost killed his brother!—It was just that each time he considered it, uncle jumped back to mind. He would never want uncle dead even if he was trapped forever within the thrall of gold. And maybe that was selfish of him because the gold sickness had been terrible and Uncle was still struggling to recover from what it had done to him. Maybe Uncle would have preferred to die than be forever trapped within such a thrall.
Kíli grimaced down at his plate. He did not want to think about that. It was complicated and neither route led to anything good.
"Young Prince Kíli."
Kíli jerked about, hand falling to his belted knife. Saruman the White had somehow entered his room. The old man sat comfortably at the table—a table Kíli had sat at, thinking it empty.
"How–"
"You wished to speak with me." Saruman stated. "It was clear you had something heavy to share, something you did not wish to say before the council."
Kíli stared at the wizard. He was uncomfortable at his appearance. And yet, this was the perfect time to tell the wizard. Something stayed his tongue, though.
The wizard arched a brow. "Did I waste my time? Your stubbornness will be the end of the lot of you. If you will only heed this advice, you may live to see your hundredth year."
"What–"
"Do not let your stubbornness stop you from doing what you know you need to do." Saruman snapped.
Kíli sank back into his own seat. He wanted to tell the wizard but how the wizard had entered his room kept his mouth shut. Uncle would not have any dwarf meet a wizard alone, not after Tharkun's betrayal.
"I was unable to speak with your brother alone. I had believed there was more Thranduil revealed to him over the months. Things he did not wish to reveal to elves but I am no elf, Prince Kíli. You have had your brother's confidence and I imagine he has told you important facts that will aid us."
"Well…" Kíli frowned down at the table. It was true, wasn't it? Fíli had told him something of utmost importance. Kíli couldn't think of why Fíli would have told it to him with the expectation that they alone would be able to deal with it.
Saruman rose. "I am here to give advice. Anything that concerns you and your brother can be told to me. I will not break such confidence. Certainly not with the elven lords...there isn't much they could offer that I cannot, after all."
Kíli stared at the wizard, his words echoed in his mind, and he felt the idea of keeping this secret burn with an inexplicable terror. They did not know how to fight someone wielding a ring of power, let alone the Ring of Power but a wizard might. "We think Thranduil possesses the One Ring."
"The One Ring," the wizard repeated slowly. White robes swished across the floor as the wizard stalked over to Kíli. Dark eyes burned down into his own. "This is of grave importance. It would be best to keep this secret between the three of us. Do not speak of it to anyone else. When the time comes, I will handle Thranduil and the ring."
Kíli relaxed at the wizard's words. Relief washed away his terror and unease. All thoughts about the One Ring faded away. Kíli settled back to enjoy his meal. The only thing to worry about was Fíli's anger at him but that was a simple matter of waiting for Fíli to calm down.
The meeting reconvened soon after and Kíli was able to focus on the arguments. As the meeting spread across days, Kíli never felt much worry. If any thoughts about the One Ring did resurface, it came with the knowledge that Saruman would take care of it. It was not of his concern anymore.
ooo