The forest perimeter was now under keen eyes from the wargs and their orc masters, letting loose howls into the air as they began their hunt. While the rider-free monsters journeyed into the woods to draw out the company of Thorin Oakenshield, several more remained in the clear with the orcs, moved to intercept their dwarf prey once they were in the open. It was a solid plan, cruel in nature.
What they didn't expect was one Radagast the Brown to suddenly burst from the dense foliage of the forest on his toboggin, chased by the entire cadre of wargs they had sent in to destroy the dwarves, who were now after a bigger prize. Radagast had managed to divert the attention of the entire pack on to him, and were now pursuing the wizard over the grassy plains and large boulders of the Bruinen.
"Come and get me! Ha ha!" The brown wizard taunted as he led the orc pack away from the forest, and away from the company as well. It was clear that he was enjoying this, with a grin on his face as he outran the orc pack.
"(After the wizard-scum!)" The lead orc shouted, readying his blade to cut down the fleeing Radagast. Yet the Rhosgobel rabbits, as small as they were, had speed and agility on their side, easily keeping the sled away from the ravenous mouths of the wargs.
At some distance away while the chase was still going on, Gandalf, Theodore and Augusta peeked around a boulder to watch as Radagast lead the orc pack further away. Thanks to the brown wizard and his crackpot plan to lead the orcs off their trail, they and the rest of the company had managed to sneak out of the forest unseen by the orcs and their wargs.
"Come on!" Gandalf urgently commanded once he felt like there was a good enough distance between them and danger, Augusta and Theodore right behind him as he led the company further into the wilds, each step taking them a little more away from the ravenous orc pack. The large rocky crags gave plenty of cover as they fled further east, going as fast as their legs could carry them.
Augusta kept pace alongside Theodore, taking a brief look behind her to see if there were any monsters chasing them. So far, they were in the clear, but who knows how long it would last. Both the conqueror and the warlord made sure to stick close to the gray wizard as they followed Thorin around a large crag and into the open fields. The dwarf prince suddenly stopped and the company did the same once they saw Radagast race by, still outrunning the howling orc pack by a good measure. Thankfully they hadn't been spotted.
"Stay together!" Gandalf said as the company turned around away from the orcs, going back the way they came from.
"Move!" Thorin commanded as they continued to run as fast as they could. If Augusta could, she would have gladly thanked the brown wizard for distracting the pack of monsters for so long. Without him, they would have still been stuck in the forest until the wargs ran them down. The company managed to cover some more distance between them and danger before Radagast and the orc pack returned again, racing across the open field in front of them as they made a bend around a huge boulder.
"Ori, no!" Thorin shouted, grabbing the younger dwarf by the shoulder and yanking him back to cover before he exposed himself to the wargs for too long. "Get back!"
The company took cover at Thorin's command, taking cover behind the crags, watching on as the barking from the wargs got far away enough for them to continue onwards, with Gandalf taking the lead this time.
"All of you, come on! Come on! Quickly!" Gandalf urgently said, leading the dwarves to follow down the slopes. They all gladly followed the wizard's advice and moved in a single file, except for Thorin, who lingered near Gandalf with a strange sense of curiosity.
"Where are you leading us?" The prince demanded, but Gandalf did not answer. Instead, the wizard gave a silent look and moved on ahead with the rest of the company. Thorin rolled his eyes and followed anyway, the conqueror and the warlord trailing behind him.
"I hope he knows what he's doing," Theodore said, sucking in some air, "This is a bit too much running for my tastes."
"What's the matter Viking?" Augusta taunted, briefly looking behind her. "Your old age catching up to you?"
"Lítill gaur…" Theodore muttered under his breath as the two Heathmoor natives caught up with the rest of the fleeing company. Once again, they were stopped by the sight of Radagast fleeing the orc pack, and this time they darted to the left and took cover underneath a small, rocky cliff as the pack passed on. While the brown wizard had ensnared the attention of the majority of their enemies, they heard one of the wargs and its orc rider come to a stop atop the cliff where they hid, sniffing the air for their prey. Both Augusta and Theodore had to crouch down in order to hide better, keeping their heads low to not catch the monster's eyes.
Thorin gave a peek, and then turned his attention to his black-haired nephew, who was tightly holding his bow. There was no way that they'd be able to avoid detection with the orc and the warg so close to them, so Thorin gave an assuring nod to Kili in order to take care of the beasts. The young dwarf readied an arrow in his bow before he rushed out into the open, swung himself around and fired right at the warg's right elbow joint, stopping it mid-lunge. A second arrow nailed the orc in its left shoulder as they both came tumbling down the cliff right in front of Augusta and Theodore.
Unfortunately, the squeals of pain coming from the two creatures were loud enough to attract the rest of the pack's attention as they suddenly stopped chasing Radagast to listen to the sounds of their fellow pack member screeching in the distance. The injured orc got up to his feet and blindly charged the dwarves with his sword in hand, eager to cut them down.
"Hey ugly!" The orc heard a fair voice yell to his left before he felt Augusta's flail connect with his chin, splattering black blood on the yellow grass. The warg reared up as well to gnaw the conqueror's head off, but Theodore managed to plunge his blade into its sternum before it could try, the warlord letting out a war cry as he used his weight to push the monster back while it howled in pain.
Both Dwalin and Bifur joined the fray, with the burly dwarf striking the orc down with a mighty swing of his hammer alongside Bifur's spear slicing into its chest, while Theodore finished off the warg with a crushing swing from his shield, killing the creature before he pushed it away. Augusta stepped back as Bifur and even Thorin ended the orc with several critical hits from their weapons.
Right as they were done fighting, the howls of the pack once again filled the air. This time however, they all knew that they were found. Radagast would not be able to come to the rescue. They could all see the howling wargs racing towards them, attracted to the sounds of one of their own dying by their hands.
"Move! RUN!" Gandalf yelled as the company made a break for it, running as fast as they could to get away from the pursuing orcs.
Soon enough, after plenty of fleeing, the company were making their way into the rolling hills of the eastern Rhudaur, with tall pine trees sparsely growing around them. Across the distance where the plains rolled over into the mountains beyond, the orc pack had spread itself wide to surround the dwarves before they could get away again.
"There they are!" Gloin shouted, pointing at several wargs and their orc masters closing the distance. The company made a dead stop when they saw that some of the monsters had managed to get in front of them, blocking another area of escape.
Bilbo at the moment was terrified out of his wits. He'd never been in this sort of scenario, since, well ever. The hobbit could feel his heart racing in his chest, and nearly leaped out of his own skin after he felt Augusta's hand touch his shoulder.
"Stay with us, hobbit." She said, gazing at the wargs, "We're not out of this yet."
"This way! Quickly!" Gandalf commanded, and the company followed him deeper into the open hills. They could all hear the pack getting ever closer to them with no exit in sight. In fact, it felt like they were running towards a dead end. And a dead end it was when they all saw members of the orc pack standing on several hills surrounding them. August and Theodore readied their weapons, the conqueror staying as close as she could to Bilbo.
"There's more coming!" Kili shouted, the sounds of grunting, snarling wargs filling the air.
"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin yelled, hoping to at least pick off a few.
While the rest of the company was preparing themselves for a battle, Gandalf was on the search for something. The gray wizard was sure that what he was looking for was around here, but among the boulders and empty plains he was beginning to think that he had lost his way. However, once he turned to the rock behind him, he could hear a faint, welcoming hum beckoning for him to come forth.
"We're surrounded!" Fili cried out, gripping his sword.
"Stay together! Don't let them break the line!" Theodore roared as he readied his Golden Bruin blade, eager to start killing. This wouldn't be the first time he'd been surrounded by any sort of enemies. Kili managed to score another kill with his bow after he nailed an orc in the heart. The warlord stood alongside Dwalin and Bofur, while Augusta took to protecting Bilbo, as the rest of the company made a defensive circle around the same boulder that Gandalf had fled towards. It was then they noticed that the gray wizard had gone and disappeared from them, with his wooden staff and pointy gray hat nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Gandalf?" Fili panicked, with no sign of the wizard in sight.
"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin spat, hammer clutched in his hands.
"Augusta! Where the hell is he!" Theodore raged, seeing that Gandalf had vanished from their sights, leaving them at the mercy of the orc pack. Seeing as the conqueror was closer to the wizard than the rest of them, he took to asking her.
"How the hell should I know?" She hastily replied while she spun her flail, never once having her eyes stray from the closet warg rider in front of her. Ori, the brave young dwarf that he was, fired his slingshot right at the pack leader, which bounced harmlessly off the warg's head. The orc, clad in his rugged black armor, let out a mocking cackle at the sight of the dwarves so helplessly caught. There was nowhere for them to run this time.
"Hold your ground!" Thorin commanded as he unleashed Orcrist from its sheath. The orc pack was steadily getting closer to them as they all prepared to fight on. However, before any of them could do anything, a sudden voice called out to them.
"This way, you fools!"
The sudden and welcoming voice of Gandalf yelled from behind the large boulder he had fled into earlier. Everyone turned around to see the wizard standing there before he retreated back down, indicating that he wanted them all to follow him.
"Come on, move! Quickly! All of you!" Thorin shouted as they all eagerly fled towards the hiding spot that Gandalf had revealed, which was a small entrance to a narrow drop down into a cave hidden beneath the boulders. The dwarf prince, along with the Heathmoor duo, stood guard to protect the company from any foolishly brave orcs that wanted a piece of them. The rest of the company took turns going down the incline one by one. Bofur was the first one down, followed by Bilbo and then Balin.
The orcs in the meantime began to realize that something was off about their prey. Their numbers were beginning to dwindle by the moment, and soon realized that they were fleeing towards safety. Something that couldn't be allowed at all, not unless they wished for severe punishment. One of the untamed wargs broke from the pack towards Thorin, who dealt with the creature with a single swing of Orcrist, felling the beast.
"…nine, ten…" Gandalf, in the meantime, was counting the dwarves who were arriving down in the underground tunnel. So far, so good, while Thorin, his two nephews along with Augusta and Theodore still lingered outside.
"You two, go! Now!" Thorin nodded towards the warlord and the conqueror. The warriors from Heathmoor shared a look before they reluctantly decided to follow Thorin's command. Augusta went first, gracefully landing on her feet while Theodore slid down right behind her.
"Kili! Run!" Thorin yelled, seeing his nephew still firing arrows at the orcs. The young dwarf turned tail at the command of his uncle right as the orc pack began to charge, following his brother down the incline. Seeing as every one of his fellow dwarves and other members of his company had made it, and that it was just him out in the open, Thorin slid down to join the rest of the company inside the cave.
Right as he did, the sudden sounds of blaring trumpets filled the air, and the thudding hooves of horses followed, rumbling across the plains above them. The company listened on as the orc pack came seemingly under attack by another larger group, and from the sound of things they were getting massacred, their vile cries screeching as they were felled by the unknown party. One orc, which had been close enough to the cave entrance, was knocked off its warg and tumbled down the incline. The company split apart as to not get hit by the body, which everyone saw was clearly dead after Gandalf prodded it with his staff.
"What the Hel's going on out there?" Theodore mumbled, sounding a little miffed that he was missing out on some real action.
"Beats me. I'd like to thank them for saving our skins, though." Augusta said, overhearing the warlord.
Thorin noticed that something was sticking out of the dead orc's neck, an arrow. He knelt down and yanked it out, eyeing the steel arrowhead covered in orc blood. He recognized the design, much to his chagrin.
"Elves," he said, angrily throwing away the arrow. It seemed to spur something within the dwarf, who suddenly turned his attention to the gray wizard as if he wanted answers.
"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin shouted. The burly dwarf had gone slightly ahead and was peering down a bend in the tunnel. "Do we follow it or not?"
"Follow it of course!" Bofur said, speaking what everyone else was more than likely thinking after what they had to deal with beforehand. They all started to quickly head down the tunnel towards wherever it led them to.
"I think that would be wise." Gandalf humorously said. Bilbo, however, threw a conspicuous look at the wizard before he began to follow the company further down the tunnel while the two Heathmoor warriors in turn followed Gandalf, staying at the rear of the company for good measure.
Theodore was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was in an actual fantasy-land straight out of a storybook. Of all the places he could have gone to after his "death", he'd found his way into a fairytale. In the meantime, Augusta remained as enthusiastically interested in fully exploring Middle Earth as she was before, despite the terrors she'd faced. Her inner imaginative child was enthralled, something that the Viking behind her started to see.
"You're having fun with this, aren't you knight?" Theodore mumbled as he squeezed himself as tight as he could down the increasingly narrow tunnel. The Viking could feel his red leather armor occasionally scrape against the rocky walls, all while seeing Augusta take everything in stride. The conqueror was also having an easier time making her way through thanks to her curvier body. She let out a titter after hearing Theodore's irritated voice call to her.
"C'mon Theodore, where's your sense of adventure?" She asked. The warlord only rolled his dark green eyes as he finally managed to reach a length where he didn't have to watch his step, and hurried up after the knight.
"I still don't get how the both of us got here in the first place," Theodore continued after he'd gotten closer, "We should be fish-food, rotting at the bottom of the ocean. You'd be in your heaven, and I in Valhalla with the gods. Instead, we're in… what was this place again?"
"Middle Earth. That's what Gandalf called it."
"Hmph. Stupid name." The Viking grumbled, now keeping pace with the conqueror as they continued to travel down the tunnel toward wherever Gandalf was leading them. The Heathmoor duo were at the back of the line, with Augusta behind the wizard and Theodore behind her.
Augusta had her eyes cast down to sure she didn't trip on any rocks before she rounded the corner where the rest of the company was standing around and noticed that they were all looking ahead at something. The conqueror aligned her vision to face forward, and let out an astonished gasp. Theodore, who was busy looking at the dwarves for some reason, almost bumped into her after she went completely still.
"Now what?" He asked, and Augusta pointed forward. Theodore followed her finger, and felt all the apprehension he had with her instantly vanish. For what they found in front of them, located at the edge of a narrow gorge, was a massive sheltered town made of ornate pale white stone built into the cliffside, with countless gentle waterfalls flowing through the town which was entirely situated above the white-water rapids of the cascading river below. To the east was a valley, and further on was the ocean.
"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf began to say, "In the common tongue it is known by another name."
"Rivendell." Bilbo said, soaking in the sights.
"It's beautiful," Augusta softly whispered. When she first arrived in Middle Earth, she had been gifted with the sights of the Shire, the first civilization that the conqueror had found herself in. This, however, was something far more majestic. Noble, even, as if this were a castle for a royal family. Absolutely nothing like this existed in the lands of Heathmoor.
"Thor's breath, would you look at that." Theodore delightfully said as he put a hand on his hip, enjoying the foreign scenery. The Viking was also fascinated by the sight of this "Rivendell". It was certainly gorgeous, and he had a keen eye for gorgeous things.
"Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea." Gandalf went on to say as the company gazed at Rivendell, standing at the edge of the hidden pathway. The only one who wasn't feeling as wonderous as everyone else was none other than Thorin, the dwarf prince realizing that this was the place that Gandalf had been leading them.
"This was your plan all along," Thorin said, standing up to Gandalf, "To seek refuge with our enemy!"
"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf replied to him, attempting to alleviate some of the dwarf's incorrigible mood, "The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!"
Listening nearby, Augusta and Theodore shared a look while Bilbo made a face.
"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin sarcastically asked the wizard. "They will try to stop us."
"Of course, they will! But we have questions that need to be answered!" Gandalf said. It seemed to get through to Thorin, who let out a soft sigh and lowered his vision away from Gandalf. It was hard to argue with that sort of reasoning. He would have to abide by the gray wizard's strategy for now. Gandalf, however, knew that it was asking much for Thorin to join him in the company of elves, so he decided to take away some of the dwarf's trepidation as a sign of good will.
"If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me."
"Alright then." Thorin gave an aggravated nod to Gandalf, and the wizard seemed to perk up after hearing Thorin finally accept. The dwarf continued talking, his voice getting lower and grittier as it went on, "You do your share of talking to the elves. But remember, this was your idea, Gandalf. If they stop us, that is on your head."
"Splendid!" The wizard cheerily said. "Now, let's be on our way! Augusta, Theodore, you stay with me. Come along, everyone. The House of Rivendell awaits us." The conqueror and warlord huddled behind the wizard as he led the company down the winding trail to the front gates of Rivendell, which was an open stone bridge over more rapids. Two large stone statues of elven warriors holding spears stood at the end of the bridge.
As Augusta and Theodore followed Gandalf into the pavilion, they spied a pair of guards standing on a staircase, emotionlessly watching the company. At first their hands went for their weapons out of reflex, but they stopped when they saw that there were more elves standing by on a gated patio who had come to see the recent arrivals to Rivendell, clothed in long, silky dresses. It was then that both Heathmoor natives saw that they were indeed real elves; long, pointed ears, gentle complexions and eyes that told of long, fruitful years. To Augusta, they looked almost exactly the same from the pictures she remembered in her storybooks. Theodore, however, was a bit less impressed.
"And here I thought the White Harts of Wyverndale were a bunch of fairytales. This place is already ridiculous." Theodore mumbled into Augusta's ear, and the conqueror let out a quick chuckle.
At the back of the company, whilst the rest of the dwarves lingered and chatted among themselves, Bilbo was continuing to take in the majesty of Rivendell. It reminded the young hobbit of his home, Bag End, all the way back in the Shire. This place had a strong feeling of homebased ease to it. Peaceful, quiet, and far away from any sort of combat. Almost perfect for a homebody like him.
"Mithrandir." A gentle voice called out. A young elf, adorned in a gray dress and dark crimson cloak, descended the stone stairway. On his head of long black hair lay an ornate silver diadem, signifying some level of importance. He briefly put a hand over his heart, an obvious sign of respect.
"Ah, Lindir." Gandalf said, recognizing the elf.
"You think he's the lord around these parts?" Augusta whispered to Theodore, wondering if this "Lindir" was the head honcho. The Viking shook his head.
"Nah. I can see a jarl when I can, and that's not him. Way too meek for a leader, that kid." He said back.
"(We heard you had crossed into the Valley.)" The elf said in some sort of tongue that Gandalf understood, but Augusta and Theodore did not, leaving the two to figuratively scratch their heads and wonder what he was saying.
"I must speak with Lord Elrond." Gandalf said, his tone of voice shifting from friendly to urgent quite quickly.
"My lord Elrond is not here." Lindir plainly responded.
"Not here?" Gandalf pondered. "Where is he?"
Right as he asked Lindir, the familiar sound of a hunting horn blared overhead, the same one that they had heard beforehand outside the caves when the wargs were attacked, blew behind them from a distance. The wizard instantly knew where he had to look to find Elrond, much to his humor as he and the rest of the company turned their attention back over the bridge, where they could see a large group of horses and their elven riders approaching Rivendell from the front gates. To Gandalf's surprise, it didn't seem like they were stopping.
To the dwarves, this meant taking action. Dwalin shouted something in Khuzdul while Thorin started barking orders. Augusta and Theodore, who were standing closer to Gandalf, took several steps backwards to avoid getting caught in the midst. The elves seemed to be more focused on the dwarves, anyway.
"Close ranks!" Thorin shouted as Bofur scuttled over, grabbing the distracted Bilbo's shoulder and dragged him into the center of their armed huddle, and just in time right as the war party arrived. The horses and their shiny armored elven masters easily towered over the snarling, resolute dwarves. As they poured in, the elves had formed two circles with their horses around the dwarves, the outer going clockwise and the inner counterclockwise, and they carried spears and flags depicting a symbol of some sorts. To the Heathmoor natives, this was an obvious show of force. They'd seen this before.
However, just as soon as it began, the war party slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped, leaving the dwarves and hobbit still stuck in the middle of the pavilion. Thankfully, despite the intense excitement, there was no bloodshed.
"Gandalf!" An elf, clad in overlapping crimson armor, shouted in a welcoming voice atop his black horse. Like Lindin he too wore a diadem on his head, and like his fellow elf he also had long black hair and pointed ears, but this elf carried a sense of elder nobility to him. Augusta could tell that this elf was the one in charge around here.
"Lord Elrond," Gandalf jovially said back, taking a couple steps forward to approach the elf and spoke in Sindarin, "(My friend. Where have you been?)"
"(We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South.)" Elrond replied as he stepped off his horse, his armor clanking with every step. "(We slew a number near the Hidden Pass.)"
Elrond gave the gray wizard a brief embrace, which Gandalf leaned into. A sign of friendship between the two.
"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders," Elrond continued, looking at the rugged orc-built sword he had in his hand, now a war trophy of his as he handed it over to Lindir for safe keeping, "Someone or something has drawn them near."
"Ah, that may have been us." Gandalf admitted as the elf lord took a gander at the company, with Thorin stepping forward as the rest of the dwarves made way for him to approach Elrond.
"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Elrond politely greeted.
"I do not believe we have met." Thorin said back.
"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."
"Indeed. He made no mention of you." Thorin rudely replied, but the elder elf did not seem to mind the dwarf's tone, only narrowing his eyes in response. Instead, Elrond slowly drew his gaze over to Augusta and Theodore, who were standing away from the rest of the company near the patio. The golden armor of Augusta glimmered in the afternoon sun, and Theodore stood taller than any dwarf here.
Elrond took a couple steps over to them before he spoke again.
"Welcome, warriors of Heathmoor, to the House of Rivendell. You are both quite far away from home."
The two standing there shared a quick, astonished look after they heard the name of their homeland coming from the elf's mouth. It was the last thing they were expected to hear when they arrived here. A greeting and a hello, maybe, but their birthplace? They were both stunned into near silence before Theodore decided to speak up for the both of them.
"How do you know of our home?" The warlord asked, which was more of a demand.
"You are not the only arrivals from your lands to grace the shores of Middle Earth, my friend." Elrond said with a bit of a smirk on his lips before he turned his head back to the staircase, where they could all see just what the elf lord meant. Attracted to the noise outside, descending down the staircase right behind Lindir, came one of the heftiest men the company had ever seen. His skin, Eastern-descended and toned from time underneath the sun, was a soft beige color, decorated with many nature-focused tattoos strewn over his arms.
It was certainly a surprise to Gandalf to see another enigmatic warrior, just like Augusta and Theodore. To the conqueror, however, this was more than a familiar face as she was about to find out.
Like Augusta and Theodore, this beast of a man wore heavy armor, but instead of leather or gold-leafed steel, his armor was made of bright pale wood, plated over his large gut bound by a large white rope tied around his waistline. There was a large, draping tapestry over his right leg, depicting a fearsome fanged face. His overlapping wooden shoulder plates, chest armor and face mask were painted with patterns of bright electric blue and lemon yellow with a black underlay. On the bandana tied through his black-haired head lay a crystal ornament, and across his baggy pants were engraved images of swirling rivers and foggy clouds, giving this large man a rather mysterious allure.
"Thor's beard, what the hell's a samurai doing here?" The Viking wondered as surprised as he could once the large shugoki stopped at the end of the stairs to take a look at who had just arrived, including the other two descendants of Heathmoor.
"It appears you have more guests arriving to your home, Lord Elrond." The man said, his voice smooth and strong at the same time, as he turned his attention over to the elf lord. His mouth was hidden behind a leather face mask, covering his jawline up to his nose and back to his ears.
"Apparently so, Ryuma." Elrond said back.
"Wait wait wait!" Augusta suddenly said, recognizing the name of the samurai as she frantically stepped forward to get a better look at the shugoki, "Ryuma?"
The shugoki focused on the conqueror once he heard his name, and the sight of a black tunic with gold, skull-themed armor seemed to unearth some long-forgotten memories at the back of his mind. Like her, he too remembered that this was a familiar face.
"Augusta?" He gasped, and the conqueror unstrapped her helm from her head, allowing him to see her pale, gorgeous face. It was enough for the both of them to suddenly have a mental click, grasping what couldn't have been less than unfathomable chances.
"Oh my god Ryuma, it is you!" The conqueror rushed the shugoki and enveloped the large man in a great, friendly hug, the both of them laughing as they squeezed each other in an outgoing embrace. The company were certainly surprised to see Augusta act this way with an Easterling, especially Elrond, Gandalf and Theodore, who watched on as the two friends seemingly reunited. The shugoki lowered Augusta to the ground before she spoke again, "I haven't seen you in years! How on God's Earth did you get here?"
"I should be asking you that, Augusta." Ryuma said back.
"Hang on a minute here!" Theodore stomped forward, now completely confused with what was going on at the moment. One second it was just him and the knight, and now there was a samurai here, and a samurai that Augusta was friends with no less. He pointed back and forth to the conqueror and the shugoki. "You two actually know each other?"
"Ah, perhaps a proper introduction would be better well suited for you, then. I am Ryuma Tamaharu, daimyo of the Whispering River Fortress, deep within the Dead Shades of the Myre." Ryuma gave a slight, respectful bow to the Viking. He made sure he was loud enough for everyone around to hear, including the dwarves and gray wizard. This show of respect towards him was enough for Theodore to respond in kind.
"Theodore Ulfarson, jarl of the White Islands. Did you say the Whispering River? I've heard many tales of that place, mostly the rumors." Theodore said back, offering a hand for the shugoki to shake. The Viking leaned forward with a personal question about the samurai's fortress home. "Is it true that the mist carries the dead souls of fallen warriors there?"
Ryuma laughed, a friendly sound coming from his mouth.
"Perhaps a story for another day, but now I believe Lord Elrond has an announcement for the… dwarves here." Ryuma gestured with an open hand to the company and nodded to Lord Elrond. The elf gave a thankful nod before he turned his eyes back to Thorin and spoke directly at him, this time talking completely in his native tongue.
"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin."
The rest of the dwarves, however, started to become bellicose and gripped their weapons at the sound of Elrond speaking what sounded like threatening prattle to Thorin.
"What is he saying?" Gloin surged from the group as angry as could be as he raised his axe. "Does he offer us insult?!"
"No, Master Gloin. He is offering you food." Gandalf sternly said. Once they heard the magical word, the dwarves began to huddle up and whisper to each other before they turned back to Elrond, slightly disgruntled.
"Well," Gloin said, "in that case, lead on."
"I could go for some food." Theodore said as he followed the dwarves up the stairs, Augusta and Ryuma right behind him. His stomach was calling to him to be filled up, and nothing got in the way of a hungry Viking. Augusta could feel her hunger rising as well, and the promise of eating elven food was already causing her to get a little excited. Either way, a meal after what they had to go through was just what they all needed.
…
Dinner with the elves was very different than with the dwarves as Augusta was finding out for herself. She, the rest of the company, along with Theodore and Ryuma, were sitting at several large tables in an open stone balcony, overlooking the river, trees and other structures of Rivendell around them. Accompanying the natural beauty that surrounded them was the soft music from the elven band, playing with harps and lutes and another waltzing around the table with a flute in her hands. While Gandalf and Elrond made themselves ready elsewhere, the feast had already begun. The three Heathmoor warriors were sitting at another table close by, with large plates of food stacked in front of them.
Augusta and Theodore had taken off as much as their armor as they could, leaving them on a bench nearby. The Viking was lucky enough to still be able to wear the stylized blue shirt and chainmail buried underneath his leather layers, while Augusta had to make do with her sleeveless undershirt, the only thing she wore underneath her black tunic. It was slightly revealing thanks to her rather impressive bosom, but thankfully she was still wearing her pants.
"I'm feeling a little exposed out here," she admitted as she sat down for dinner, tugging at her shirt to try and hide her bosom as best she could.
"No kidding. Hey samurai, why don't you take your armor off like the rest of us?" Theodore turned to the other member at their table, who had only done away with his mouth plate and headband. Everything else was still on.
"You want me to eat here naked?" Ryuma incredulously replied, leaving Theodore to feel a little embarrassed. Shugoki had no need to wear anything underneath their armor. Their girthy bodies were all the protection they needed.
"Forget I asked anything," he said, reaching over to grab a roll and gave a bite, reveling in filling up his stomach, "Mm, now that's good."
"Gimme some of that," Augusta said as she snagged a couple pastries, piling on her plate, "I'm starving over here."
"You're always hungry, Connolly."
Meanwhile, at the main table, the rest of the dwarves were trying to settle in, but so far, the difference in meal courses were already beginning to wear on them. Back at Bag End they had been spoiled with Bilbo's immense pantry of various foods. Here in Rivendell, the pickings were not as varied as they were used to.
"Try it," Dori urged as Ori held a leaf of lettuce in his hand, his younger cousin looking about as sad as he felt, "Just a mouthful! It's good for you!"
"I don't like green food."
Dwalin, feeling a little desperate, reached into the salad to try and find anything he considered edible.
"Where's the meat?" He demanded as Oin stuck a chunk of onion with his knife, looking at it in disgust. Had the burly dwarf looked behind him, he would have seen Augusta struggle to rip a chunk of meat with her teeth.
"Have they got any chips?" Ori asked.
Emerging from the main hall were Gandalf, Elrond and Thorin, the elf lord and wizard talking to one-another. The three of them took their seats at the end of the table and joined the rest of the dwarves in their meal. Back at the other table, Augusta was chowing down on some freshly-baked rolls and warm venison, freshly caught from the nearby woods. The conqueror was already stuffing her face while the other two warriors watched on, drawn to the sight and sound of her munching away. She only stopped to take a drink of water to wash it her throat before she saw that Theodore and Ryuma were eyeing her with a level of fascination and a little disgust.
"What?" She asked with her cheeks full of water.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Connolly. It's bad manners." The shugoki chastised while he cut into his beef tenderloin and salad mix. Augusta swallowed down her drink and hiccupped.
"Okay, now I gotta ask, what's the story between you two?" Theodore questioned, taking a break from his meal of steak cuts to state his curiosity. The warlord had every right to be inquisitive about the relationship between the shugoki and the conqueror. Augusta wiped her mouth with a napkin before she started to talk.
"Ryuma was the first samurai lord to offer me a job when I set out as a mercenary, way back when the Blackstones got their asses handed to them." Augusta said, dwelling into some unforgettable memories. "That must've been almost a decade ago. Things back then were really tough for people like me, especially since I could no longer become a true knight, even with the Iron Legion in charge back at Ashfeld. And nobody wanted to hire a sellsword, not after what the Blackstones did across the lands, and I didn't blame 'em."
"He gave you a job? For what purpose?" Theodore asked, leaning forward as he became quite interested in this story. Not only was the warlord hearing about their relationship, but also some insight into Augusta's past. The conqueror hadn't really talked much about her previous years. It was then that Ryuma started to say his piece.
"My daughter loved to explore the Myre when she was a little girl. She was an adventurous type, playing in the woods with her friends until dark and running around getting into all sorts of trouble with the locals." Ryuma said, chuckling at the memories of his youngest child coming back with some sort of animal or plant she'd found in her hands. The shugoki sighed before his voice became slightly gloomier. "But my own siblings and I haven't always seen eye to eye, and we had our spats before. We're a very large and influential family where we live, and being the daimyo of the Whispering Rivermeans you have plenty of power."
"Which means you have your fair share of enemies who want it, including your own flesh and blood." Theodore reasoned. He could attest to that. Theodore himself was a jarl, the equivalent of a daimyo for Viking culture. The White Islands was his hard-fought home, and there were numerous times he had to fight off usurpers, some expected and others not so much. It was the unexpected ones that hurt the most.
"Yes. I feared that one day they would come for my family when I least expected it, to weaken my resolve and grip on the throne, and so for the sake of my daughter's safety I turned to an unexpected source of help; a knight." Ryuma turned his attention to Augusta. "Someone who needed the money, and didn't have any ties to any legion."
"Hah! That must've been quite a shock for your clan!" Theodore guffawed.
"Oh, you should've heard my wife the moment Augusta arrived to the fortress!" Ryuma barked with laughter, remembering the day that he first met the lady mercenary. "She was absolutely furious with me, demanding why I had brought a violent westerner to our home instead of having one of our own warriors do the job. My own son threatened to cut her head off, had I not explained the deal I made. But, by the time she was done, Augusta did a stellar job of defending my youngest from any assassins my brothers sent, and has earned my family and I's eternal respect and friendship."
"I see. Well, that's quite a story." Theodore said before he slurped down more of that delicious elven wine straight from the bottle on the table. "So, here's another question for you, samurai; how did you get here?"
Ryuma shifted uncomfortably in his chair before he spoke up.
"I was in the midst of negotiating with several other daimyos, including the Empress herself, in the Canopy Gardens when it came under attack. Assassins, armed from the Order of Horkos, had snuck in to try and slaughter the clan leaders, including myself." The shugoki said, stunning the other two warriors.
The Order of Horkos was well known as a fanatical death cult, worshippers and acolytes of Apollyon's' beliefs on the weakness of peace and the strength of killing those who sought for it. The Order had cut a swath of destruction across Heathmoor many years ago when they were at their most powerful, but had since died down significantly after the return of Gryphon and the formation of the Chimera Alliance. They were not bound to a single faction, for many warriors of knights, samurai and Vikings had come to join their bloody cause of endless war. In many ways they had overcome the previous Blackstones in their ways of spreading fear.
"Thankfully, while the fighting raged, I had managed to escort the Empress and her family to safety, along with my own. But, in my attempt to rescue more, I was cornered. They tried to convince me to join them, or else suffer death, but I would rather die defending my lands than become a member of that vile cult." Ryuma angrily said, his fist clenching around his knife as he remembered the screams of the dying around him from both warrior and innocent lives, and the inferno that the Order of Horkos sent upon the wooden buildings.
"So, I took as many of those basutas I could over the bridge where I was trapped. Someone got the bright idea to cut it down, and I fell deep into the mist to the waters below." The shugoki sighed, then he remembered something else. "It was when I was sinking down to the depths, ready to meet the watchful gods that I saw this… I don't know what to call it."
"A light?" Augusta stated, which made Theodore suddenly turn to her. Both he and the shugoki were quite stunned to hear that Augusta was saying the same thing they were thinking.
"Yes, like I was swallowed by the great light of the ame-tsuchi, or the beginning of the universe, before my eyes. Before I knew it, I had awoken on the shores of a river here in this Middle Earth, and was found by a scouting party of elves. I was then granted sanctuary in Rivendell, and made quick friends with Elrond. The rest is simple history." The shugoki finished his tale, leaning back as he took a sip of wine. There was a pregnant pause between the knight, samurai and Viking at the table.
"You went down fighting like a true warrior. My sincerities, samurai. Though I can't help but feel like our fates are intertwined like the roots of Yggdrasil. The same thing happened to me." Theodore stated. Yet more mysteries added to the midst of their journey, and less answers as well. He felt a little frustrated, but understood that dwelling over something he couldn't control would only cause him grief, so he decided to let it go for now.
"Yeah, sure sounds like it. I got here the same way." Augusta mumbled.
"Then it appears we have quite a mystery on our hands." The shugoki stated. Augusta responded with a nod, taking a bite out of her food before craning her neck to look back at the rest of the company chowing down, curious as to how they were getting on for dinner. At the larger table more suited for normal-sized guests, Elrond was inspecting the Gondolin-forged swords that Thorin and Gandalf had found in the troll cave.
"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver!" The elf lord exclaimed as he held the weapon in his hands. "A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West. My kin." He handed the weapon back to Thorin, seeing as it now belonged to the dwarf prince. "May it serve you well."
Thorin accepted with a gentle nod.
"And this," Elrond said, holding up Gandalf's sword, "Is Glamdring, the Foehammer! Sword of the king of Gondolin. These were made in the first age for the goblin wars…"
As Elrond continued to talk about the history of Glamdring, Bilbo had overheard the elf lord. He too held an elvish sword that Gandalf had found for him. He still had it with him, looking underneath the table to inspect his sword wondering if there were any sort of famous names that his blade carried. There had to be at least one he could think of. Balin, who was sitting next to the hobbit, understood the hobbit's actions with a pitying smile.
"I wouldn't bother, laddie," the elderly dwarf said, "Swords are named for their great deeds they do in war."
"What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battles?" Bilbo asked.
"No, I'm not actually sure it is a sword," Balin admitted, referring the size of Bilbo's blade, while a good fit for a hobbit it would be quite small for anyone else, "More of a letter opener really."
That only seemed to dampen Bilbo's spirit.
"How did you come by these?" Elrond asked, wondering how Gandalf and Thorin were able to get their hands on such famous weapons of old.
"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," Gandalf replied, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, while Thorin slowly craned his attention to the wizard with a cross look on his face, "Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs!"
"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Elrond wondered. Nobody took that road unless they were heading somewhere important. Gandalf couldn't seem to formulate an answer that would not completely expose his intentions to Elrond.
"Excuse me," Thorin softly said, the dwarf pulling up from his chair to leave once the conversation started to dwell into deeper matters. He didn't want to stick around and have Gandalf tell the elf any secrets, so he left. The dwarf prince made his way over to the other side of the pavilion to be near the rest of his company.
"Thirteen dwarves, a pair of mysterious warriors from unknown lands, and a halfling," Elrond mumbled into his wine glass, "Strange traveling companions, Gandalf."
"These are the descendants of the House of Durin!" The wizard appealed to the elf lord for the sake of the dwarves. "They're noble, decent folk. And they're surprisingly cultured. They've got a deep love of the arts."
"Change the tune, why don't you?" Nori groused at the harpist behind him, already sick of the pleasant notes. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!"
"Did somebody die?" Oin asked, only seemingly getting half the sentence heard with his napkin-clogged ear trumpet.
"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it!" Bofur said, having enough of his high-society gathering before he stood up and took a stand onto the cylindrical stone slab at the center of the pavilion, and then he started to sing. The rest of the company, along with the elves and the Heathmoor trio, stopped to watch what was about to happen, "There's… an…"
"There's an Inn, there's an inn.
There's a merry old inn
Beneath an old gray hill!"
By the time Bofur got the first lyrics in, the rest of the dwarves had joined in the song, pounding their fists on the table to make a rhythm for the melody.
"And there they brew a beer so brown
The Man in the Moon
Himself came down
One night
To drink his fill
Oh!
The ostler has a tipsy cat
That played a five-stringed fiddle
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high
Now purring low
Now sawing in the middle!"
It also didn't help that they started throwing food at each other, and the warlord was already laughing as he watched the scene unfold. It reminded him of all the crazy bar fights he got into back in Valkenheim. Ryuma only rolled his eyes while Augusta calmly but interestedly observed the scene while she ate.
"So!
The cat on the fiddle
Played hey-diddle-diddle
A drink that'll wake the dead
He squeaked and he sawed
And he quickened
The tune
And the landlord
Shook the Man
In the Moon
'it's after Three!' he said."
Once he was finished the dwarves merrily cheered, flinging their dinner over the table and around the pavilion, with Kili going so far as to chuck a pastry at a nearby statue, just narrowly missing Lindir's head. Seeing this, and the rest of the ridiculous things they were doing, caused Augusta to start laughing along with them, Theodore already hollering a storm up as Ryuma tried his best to try and hide his embarrassment, covering his face.
Looks like Rivendell was set to be quite a fun little shore stop for all of them.
…
Night came quickly, and with it the company dispersed after dinner was finished. Whilst Thorin went to see Elrond for help with their map at Gandalf's urging, along with Bilbo and Balin, the rest of the company had gone on their own personal ventures inside the halls of Rivendell. One such person was Augusta, who found herself in the middle of a massive library, lit up with many small torches and candles scattered around the interior. There were endless books to choose from, and the conqueror couldn't decide where she wanted to start.
"This place is incredible," Augusta mumbled to herself, awed by the sheer size of the library.
"Looking for something, mellon?" She heard a voice behind her, and the conqueror turned around to see a young elf maid dressed in a dark yellow dress. The elf was quite pretty, with long black hair that went beyond her shoulders, stark blue eyes and flawless creamy skin. Her lips were pressed into a smile, and she herself was carrying a small book in her left palm held against her thigh. She must have noticed the conqueror exploring the library before she introduced herself.
"Don't mind me, ma'am," Augusta respectfully said to the elf, "I'm just wandering around to see if there's anything that would catch my eye. Books are a past-time favorite of mine."
"A fellow scholar! Quite a rare habit to have these days. I am Tolthiel, scroll-keeper of the House of Rivendell, and I am happy to make your acquaintance, my lady." The elf, Tolthiel, enthusiastically said with a gentle bow of her head. She seemed to be relieved that at least one of the latest guests to Rivendell wasn't a complete savage, unlike the dwarves from earlier.
"Oh, you're flattering me, miss." Augusta playfully gushed with a blush on her cheeks. "The name's Augusta. Augusta Connolly, and I'm certainly no scholar, I just love to read."
"Still, an attractive trait if I do say so, much more for a warrior. If you need anything, do please let me know." The elf maid lightly bowed her head before she left. Augusta, still without her armor, simply nodded as Tolthiel turned back and went on her way. She was a very kind stranger, and kindness was something that any person from Heathmoor was starved of. Augusta didn't want to simply brush it aside and later regret not taking the offer. A stray thought came to the conqueror after a moment's passing before she called out to the elf again, this time with a clear goal in mind.
"Wait!" The elf stopped mid-stride once she heard Augusta's voice. "Actually, there's something I'd like to find out. Think you can help me?"
"And what would that be, Lady Connolly?"
…
"And here you are," Tolthiel said as she gently placed the stack of books, the ones that she knew were the best ones, for Augusta right on the table where the conqueror was sitting, "These are the latest on the great histories of Middle Earth. And a couple more on topography, as per your request. Do you need anything else?"
"No, but thank you, Tolthiel. You've been great." The conqueror said. A short while ago, Augusta had asked the elf maid if there were any books regarding the lay of this new land, she had found herself in. She desperately wanted to see a map of Middle Earth and what it really looked like rather than have to keep bumbling at Gandalf's side like a lost child. Thankfully Tolthiel had been gracious enough to find her a map, and it was quite a surprise to see the impressive size of Middle Earth's explored borders. With a map came names of any location she wanted to know, and what the area was like in case she found herself there in the near future.
One location did stand out, though. Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, just barely visible above the forest called Greenwood and a small lake that the mountain fed through a river.
The history of Middle Earth, the other study she was curious about, was for a different cause. Augusta still wished to find a way back home to Heathmoor, back to Firetrap, but in order to do so she felt like she had to know more about Middle Earth's ancient past to the present for any clues. This place was a bona-fide fantasy land, so it didn't seem too out of reach to delve into the past to try and find an answer.
"You are quite welcome, Lady Connolly." Tolthiel bowed and left the conqueror alone. Augusta reached over to grab the large blue book on top of the stack that the librarian had given her. The title was written in the common tongue in shining silver; The Two Trees of Valinor. Interested by the cover art depicting a pair of trees, one shining blue-white while the other a gentle golden yellow, Augusta opened the first page and began to read. Several key words immediately caught her attention.
"The Valar, huh? Interesting…" She said under her breath. Though the more Augusta read on, the heavier her eyelids were beginning to feel. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision before she started reading again, flipping through the pages of her book.
"My lady Augusta? I've found more records for your interests." Tolthiel called out as she descended a winding metal staircase with another stack in her hands. She knew that it was rude of her to interrupt the newcomer's quiet reading, but the elf couldn't help herself. It had been so long since any foreigner had shown interest in the library of Rivendell, nonetheless a warrior of men.
The eager elf made her way over to where she had last left the conqueror alone some time ago, only to find her gently snoozing away with her arms and head resting over an open book. She must have fallen asleep not too long ago, but there were already several finished books scattered around her. Deciding not to awaken the warrior, Tolthiel reached over and snuffed the lit candles that Augusta had been using to read, now shrouding the sleeping newcomer in darkness before she too made her way over to her own chambers, but not before saying goodnight.
"Sweet dreams, Lady Connolly." Tolthiel tenderly said, before she left the library, and Augusta, to sleep.
…
Far away from the sanctuary of Rivendell, under the cover of the moonlight peaking through the dark clouds above, the ruins of Weathertop were set to host a gathering here, but not any sort of welcoming one. Weathertop, also known as Amon Sûl, was now a home base for a contingent of orcs waiting for news to drop by. The remaining two survivors of the orc pack that had failed to catch Thorin and his company, Yazneg and his second Fimbul, carefully made their way through the mass, keeping their distance away from the other hungry, snarling wargs standing around the perimeter of the old fortress.
Standing at the edge of a wall, gazing out to the moon beyond, their master awaited the good news they were supposed to bring. But Yazneg knew that he was in deep. The master's white warg let out a guttural snarl, her green eyes shining in the dark.
"(The Dwarves, Master…)" Yazneg hesitantly bowed as he spoke to his leader in Black Speech, incapable of hiding the nervousness her felt. "(…we lost them. We were ambushed by Elvish filth, and we were-!)"
"(I don't want your excuses.)" Azog the Defiler said, his gravel voice laced with anger as he turned around to face his orc lesser. His left forearm had been replaced with a pronged metal spike wedged through the stump to his elbow, a reminder of his defeat at the gates of Moria. The large pale Gundabad orc stomped his way down the staircase towards the pleading hunter orc.
"(I want the head of the Dwarf King!)" He hissed to the smaller orc, only taking a moment to gently pet his white warg along her jawline as he got closer.
"(We were outnumbered! There was nothing we could do!)" Yazneg said, hoping that Azog would listen to him. "(I barely escaped with my life!)"
"(Far better you had paid with it.)" Azog replied, leaning down to rest his remaining hand across the orc's head and caress it, almost affectionately while he spoke. His stark blue eyes bore into Yazneg's own dark red, which were now wide open with great fear at the sensation of Azog touching him, and what his master was saying. His fear was paralyzing, and before he knew it the Pale Orc suddenly thrust his metal spike to the hunter orc's throat, lifting him high into the air while he struggled to breathe.
Azog had already decided on what to do with such failure. With a great shout of Black Speech, he hurled the orc across Weathertop where he collided head-first with a stone pillar, instantly killing the unfortunate orc but sparing him from a much more gruesome fate as a trio of wargs descended upon his corpse and began to rip it apart, feasting on the savory fresh meat. The sounds of crunching bone and splitting flesh emanated where Azog had thrown his former soldier now food source.
With that out of the way, Azog returned to his post as he began to speak to the rest of his troops.
"(The Dwarf-scum will reveal themselves soon enough.)" He said as the orcs began to mount onto their wargs. "(Send out word! There is a price upon their heads! Go!)"
With his new command, the orcs dispersed from the Weathertop ruins and out into the open fields surrounding them, ready to spread the word that Thorin Oakenshield and the rest of his company were now wanted dwarves.
Once Azog was alone, he realized that he now had to deal with the other subject at interest. The Pale Orc scowled to himself before he spoke up, this time turning his head towards the shadow lingering behind a statue, hidden in the darkness.
"(Reveal yourself.)" He commanded the shadow to move, where he briefly saw the faint glimmer of the blood-red steel armor she wore.
"An impressive display, Azog," the stranger said, her smooth feminine voice betraying her evident humor, "Had the Order taken such methods to weed out the feeble in our ranks, I doubt we would have ever lost against the Chimera Alliance."
Azog did not like this stranger in the slightest thanks to her being human, but he did recognize someone who had a penchant for violence. While she kept herself hidden in the dark, Azog could clearly see the outlines of her armor. They had found the stranger not too long ago along the shores of the Glanduin, standing in the middle of a contingent of dead Rohirrim who she had presumably slaughtered en masse. It had been many years since Azog had seen such bloodshed coming from the world of men, and now she lingered among them for her own personal reasons as to his own orders. He tolerated her presence for now, as long as she didn't get in his way of taking the head of Thorin Oakenshield.
"(I assume you heard everything.)" The Pale Orc said to his newfound ally.
"Yes. It took me some time to learn your language, but I understood every word. A price for Thorin's head. Must be quite a sum of money." She said back, leaning against the stone statue she hid herself behind.
"(Thorin has found new allies from your lands. I want them gone.)"
"Yes, his new friends from Heathmoor. I know them well. Lead me to them and I will slaughter their feeble hides. But there is one among them that I truly want. Promise me that she dies by my hand, and mine alone, and I will assist you in ending the line of Durin." She said to him in a dark, foreboding tone, and Azog saw carried in her hands was a large, two-handed sword that she held downwards, with the blade itself black as night and slightly wavy at the tip.
"(Very well. You will have your wish.)"
"How gracious of you, Azog." She gracefully bowed her head, turning around to reenter the darkness as she left the Pale Orc to himself. She clutched a fist while she walked on, straining the jagged armored tips of her fingers against her leather-covered palm, relishing in the sensation of her own pain. With it came memories, dark ones, the ones that she treasured above all, for in them was a face that she would never forget.
"We shall see each other again, my dear conqueror…" She said to herself.
"My Augusta."