It's been a long wait, but hopefully it was worth it. Let me know what you think :)
The King's House was still and silent when Adrahil woke with a start. His hand grasped the dagger he had put under his pillow before going to bed. He hadn't felt compelled to do so before, but after the incident in the woods, Adrahil couldn't shake the strange sensation of restlessness and fear that had overcome him. And he couldn't quite describe it either. King Bard and Prince Bain clearly thought him mad when he tried to explain the feeling, like he was constantly being watched, like thick black dread was seeping into his pores and settling into his veins. It felt like a magic so evil that it had to be Morgoth himself hiding in the trees just outside Dale. The king agreed to send some soldiers to search the area, but when they returned at dinner time and reported no evidence of anyone being so deep in the woods, he did not deem it worth investigating further.
Sigrid had reported a similar feeling to her father, but the hatred and anger that targeted Adrahil had taken a different approach to the princess. She was reminded of the leering, watchful eyes of a man her father known in Laketown, intensified by some supernatural power. She said that she felt her skin crawl, even after they returned to Dale, like his gaze was continuing to follow her through the halls of the King's House and in her very room. The king was far more concerned about this, and as a precaution, he placed additional guards outside her door.
Whatever they stumbled upon in the woods was not ready to turn loose of him, and through the night, Adrahil had been tormented by dream after dream of dark, unpleasant things. When he woke with his weapon in hand, he couldn't recall what he was battling in his sleep, but he knew it was something far more terrible than he had ever faced before. In the darkness of the room, it took him several long minutes to slow his breathing and to loosen his grip on the dagger. He sat on the edge of his bed, shivering as the cold night air touched his sweat-covered skin. He had no idea what time it was, but he had to get out of his room to get some fresh air, and perhaps, a stiff drink.
He dressed quickly in the dark, and made his way down the corridor. A few guards watched him questionably from their posts, but otherwise, he was left alone as headed to the kitchens. He was surprised to find a guard outside the kitchen entrance, but as he headed toward the table near the hearth where he took his tea each morning, another sleepless figure came into view.
Sigrid was seated with her back to him, staring listlessly into the fireplace. Her honey-blonde hair was down for once in loose waves over her shoulders, and she was dressed in long heavy robe. Adrahil stopped, his breath catching at the sight of her. Over the course of a few weeks, he had reached a certain level of comfort with the princess. He expected to see her in the mornings, to spend those quiet moments in conversation, to reap the warmth of her smiles and gentle teasing. And this companionship seemed to go both ways. Sigrid was as happy to see him each morning as he was to see her. But something changed the day before, and Adrahil couldn't quite put his finger on what was different. True, the darkness that they both felt had brought about an awkwardness that hadn't existed before. Adrahil was tense and his desire to protect the princess was consuming him. Sigrid on the other hand was wary, and though he knew her change in demeanor was not directed at him, there was a noticeable distance between them after they returned to the King's House.
But seeing her in the firelight, he was reminded of another unusual occurrence from the day before. Meleth Nîn. The endearment was so strange on his lips, and yet it had just felt so natural when he had said those very words to Sigrid as he wiped away her tears. It wasn't as though it was the first time he had used the phrase. Meleth Nîn, my love. He had spoken them countless times before in a beguiling sort of way as he shamelessly flirted with the ladies in Turgon's court. It was never a challenge to find a willing woman to warm his bed. As the most eligible, yet elusive, bachelor of Gondor, many ladies attempted to change his opinion on matrimony through seduction. And for their good favor, he readily supplied hollow sentiments and declarations that were soon forgotten in the morning. But when he said the words to Sigrid, it felt as though something had shifted within him. He wasn't just baiting her into one night, but rather into a lifetime with him.
And she had no idea who he really was.
Adrahil took a slow step forward. His footsteps seemed loud in the silence, and he winced when Sigrid turned around quickly at the sound. He hadn't meant to startle her. But her shoulders relaxed instantly when she saw it was him and her lips slid into a slow smile. Adrahil felt his heart pound at that smile, such a smile that he had only ever seen directed at him.
"Can't sleep?" She asked as he joined her at the table. A jug of ale sat forgotten beside her clasped hands. For a moment, He considered pouring a cup for himself, but the thought of drinking the swill that the people of Dale preferred instantly turned his stomach.
He shook his head, debating how much he wanted to share about his restless night "Neither can you, apparently."
Sigrid's smile dimmed, and Adrahil regretted pointing out that she too was awake. "I just can't escape this awful feeling," she said quietly. "I know there is no one here, but I can feel the way they are watching me. I don't even know how it is possible."
Adrahil's jaw clenched. It sounded so impossible, and yet he knew exactly what she was feeling. And there was nothing he could do to shield her from it. Without thinking, he reached across the table and grasped Sigrid's hands in both of his. Her fingers were cold as ice despite the warmth of the room.
"I feel it too," he said quietly, gripping her hands even tighter. Sigrid did not pull away. "But it is different for me. Whatever it is, it is very, very angry."
"What is it?" she whispered.
Adrahil shrugged, and then scowled when he realized how much it frustrated him that he couldn't answer her question. Fighting the evils of this world had never been a challenge for him. It was his job, his purpose. But this was something he could not fight. And he had never felt so utterly useless.
"My father speaks often of a darkness falling over Middle Earth. Until now, I just assumed it to be the rantings of an old man."
"And now? Do you still believe them to be just that?" She asked.
"After what happened yesterday, I am thinking he may know what he is talking about."
Sigrid sighed, her expression darkening in the firelight, passing from fear to resignation to determination. Adrahil wished desperately that he could see what she was thinking. Sigrid was not a sheltered princess having spent her days protected from the world behind thick castle walls. She was a woman who had seen the worst of men, dwarves, and elves. She had survived a dragon attack, and as she helped her father lead Laketown's refugees to safety, they were caught between an orc army and the very mountain it was attempting to sack. This princess had seen far more evil in Middle Earth than most people, and yet she remained resilient against it.
Adrahil was not surprised when she said "Whatever it is, we will find a way to beat it. In the meantime, I have a house full of people preparing for another day of celebration. There is no point in letting this thing, whatever it is, stop me from doing my job."
Sigrid stood as she spoke, and started to step away from the table, but Adrahil still held her fast. He knew he was overstepping a boundary, but something about her determination had weakened his judgement. This princess, this wonderful princess, had grown on him and he realized that he could not lose her. Not even if it was his own idiocy that drove her away. Slowly he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm. Sigrid gasped softly, but did not pull away, the sound sending a tremor of pleasure of coursing through him. He didn't want to let go, but he finally released her and met her gaze with his own expression of stubborn determination.
His voice was husky with emotion when at last he spoke. "I promise you this, Princess. Whatever it is, I will stop at nothing to keep you safe."
At breakfast, Adrahil learned that the second day of Yule entailed a boar hunt hosted by the dwarves of Erebor. It had been tradition for King Thror to invite the Lord of Dale to his woods, and for the first time since reclaiming the mountain, King Thorin had extended the same invitation to Bard. Adrahil had never hunted for boar as it was not common in Gondor, but he had heard about the tradition in Rohan and other northern realms. Despite the darkness that shrouded him since the day before, his excitement grew as he prepared for the hunt. It had been weeks since he had a good fight. Killing a cornered beast wasn't exactly the challenge he craved, but it would a good release of the pent up energy and frustration that he had been carrying since arriving in Dale.
However, when he learned that Sigrid was not planning to join the spectators, choosing instead to work on preparations for the next day's feast, he was resolved to skip the hunt and remain close to her side. He wouldn't leave her unprotected in the King's House while he was deep in the woods with her father, brother, and all the King's best knights. But when he explained this decision to her, he very quickly learned why Bain feared his elder sister. Sigrid's scowl was fierce as her father's as she explained to him in no uncertain terms that she was not the helpless woman he believed her to be, and that any man who dared to test her would find himself in a world of pain, if not by her guards, then by her own blade she that carried on her person at all times. Adrahil was shocked by her vehement reaction, but he soon found his dropped jaw shifting into a wolfish grin as he imagined the scenario as described, seeing a grown man cowed by this lovely princess. Perhaps if he valued his own life a little less, he would give her a try.
After breakfast, the hunting party gathered in the courtyard, where stable hands and grooms brought out enough of the King's coursers for everyone joining the hunt. King Bard, Bain and a few of the more adventurous lords were planning to join the hunt. Adrahil grinned when he saw that Lord Erling was the first man mounted, impatiently waiting for the others to be ready. Adrahil had taken a liking to the man and over the past week had often found himself deep in conversation about horses, the Riddermark, and keeping the Easterlings away from Dale's borders. Others in the group, lords and ladies alike, were joining as spectators. They were happy to participate in the merriment, but not interested in killing any beasts they encountered in the woods. Adrahil noted with some satisfaction that Lord Konrad, the mayor of Laketown, appeared to be a member of the latter group. He still knew little about the man, but Adrahil believed himself to be a decent judge of character and he had judged the man to be one of the slimiest bastards he had ever met. Even without the story Tilda had told him about Konrad, Adrahil had noticed the way men turned cold when they spoke with him and women pulled away from his unsolicited touch.
When at last the group was ready, King Bard led their party to eastern border of the forest surrounding Erebor. The sun was shining brightly and reflecting off of the snow, making it nearly impossible to see where he was going. It didn't take quite as long to reach their destination as Adrahil expected, and he realized that the mountain was still a long way in the distance. Near the edge of the woods, the dwarves had set up large tents to shelter their guests from the wind. Fires were built in braziers for warmth, barrels of ale and mead were tapped, and long tables were filled with enough food to feed an army. Adrahil grinned as he surveyed the feast before him. He was very much looking forward to partaking in dwarven hospitality.
Their host, King Thorin, greeted King Bard with a smile and a handshake. He was taller and broader than Adrahil had expected with long black and silver hair and a stern brow. Although the dwarf king was more than a foot shorter, Adrahil thought they would be evenly matched in a fight. Or maybe, Adrahil thought wryly as he eyed the other dwarves around him, particularly the bald one that was even larger than the King, they might get the better of him. Best not to find out.
Bain led Adrahil to meet a pair of younger dwarves. Prince Kili, the elder of the pair with dark hair and a mischievous grin, was one of King Thorin's nephews and heirs, second in line to the throne following his brother, Fili. His companion, Gimli, sported a magnificent red beard and had a battleaxe larger than himself strapped to his back. As they were introduced, Bain explained that Kili was a member of Thorin's company who reclaimed Erebor from the dragon Smaug. The very dragon that King Bard had shot down over Laketown.
The group did not tarry long after everyone had gathered for the hunt. Those who wished to join King Thorin mounted their horses. Adrahil was surprised to see the dwarves mounting goats, and one particularly fat dwarf was riding an armored hog. Much like Prince Angelimir's hunts, the dwarves used hounds to track and corner their prey. Although hunters were employed by all of the royal families present for everyday game, the King's hunt was more for sport than utility. Half of the fun was chasing down the beasts and risking injury just to kill them by hand. Adrahil had heard of men seriously injured in a boar hunt, their sharp tusks piercing legs, or worse, the gut. It was a grisly way to go, but a successful hunt was a good measure of a man.
The hunting party rode deep into the woods, following the sound of horns and the baying hounds who led the way. King Thorin and King Bard led the group, riding side by side. Adrahil could quickly see the advantage of riding a goat rather than a full sized horse as he ducked under branch after branch. Thorin's hunters had joined the group, and the hounds followed their commands as they searched for the scent. The hunters knew where they were going, having scouted the area the day before. But there was still some primal thrill in searching through the woods for their yuletide meal.
Adrahil was not sure exactly how long they rode after the hounds, but just as he began to think there might not be any boar to capture, they reached a clearing. A sounder of wild hogs were gathered in the clearing. Their fur was thick and black, and their snouts were white from rooting the snow. He wondered if it wouldn't be easier to stay hidden in the trees and to use a bow. As if reading his mind, the dwarf prince, Kili, whispered, "I wish I could just shoot one, but no arrow can pierce that hide."
For the briefest of moments, they watched the hogs in the snow. But the hounds leapt forward, and at the sound of the hunting party riding into the gathering, they hogs scattered, disappearing into the woods once more.
"The sounder's split," Thorin shouted over his shoulder. "I will take the right, you take the left," he called to Bard.
"Aye," Bard said with a grin, steering his horse to follow the hounds heading toward the left side of the clearing. The hunting party divided as well, many of the dwarves staying with their king. Kili and Gimli, however, joined King Bard's group.
"We have seen uncle kill boar hundreds of times," Kili said with a shrug when Adrahil questioned him about it.
Although the hogs were fast, they could not all get away, and eventually the hounds had one surrounded. The boar did not plan to go down without a fight. It leapt forward, sinking its sharp teeth into one of the hounds. The dog yelped and snapped at the boar to escape, but it held fast with a horrible squeal. Adrahil expected Bard to take the opportunity to kill the beast, but it was Bain who dismounted and drew his sword. Slowly he approached, his sword at the ready. The boar let go of the hound and watched Bain's careful movements. He was nearly close enough to strike when the boar made its move, charging forward, its tusks positioned perfectly to injure Bain. But the young prince was swift with his sword, and before the boar reached him, he sank his blade deep into its chest. The boar emitted a terrible howl, but Bain's hit was fatal, and moments later the beast was dead.
Kili and Gimli whooped in excitement, running over to clap Bain on the back before helping the hunters prepare the boar to be carried back. Bard did not dismount, but he was beaming with pride as he congratulated his son on a job well done. Adrahil felt a twinge of jealousy as he watched the exchange. Had his father ever congratulated him on a kill? He could not recall.
The hounds led them back to the clearing where they first found the sounder, and Adrahil was surprised to see hogs gathered again in the clearing. Hounds burst through the brush on the far side of the clearing, closely followed by King Thorin's party, and the chase began again. Over the course of the afternoon, several more hogs were killed. Even Adrahil had his own opportunity to stick his sword deep in the belly of a boar. The thrill of the chase, and the rush of striking his prey was so similar to that of battle. For years he had avoided his father's hunts, but this feeling was almost worth spending the day under his father's judgmental glare.
It was late afternoon when King Thorin called the hunt to a close. Over the course of the day, many of the hunters had wandered back to the tents, so only a few men and dwarves stayed with the king until the end. Although he was reluctant to end his fun, Adrahil was thankful to get an opportunity to enjoy the feast waiting for them in the tents. It had been many hours since breakfast, and Adrahil felt like he might be starving as they rode slowly through the woods.
Many of the lords and ladies who had retired early from the hunt were already deep in their cups when the last round of hunters returned. Eagerly, Adrahil followed Kili and Gimli to the taps so he might join them. The sweet mead reminded Adrahil of home, and his eagerly gulped down his first mug far more quickly than was polite. But, judging by the streams of ale and mead flowing down the beards of the dwarves, he had a feeling that no offence was taken. Kili and Gimli had moved on to the tables loaded with food, as Adrahil filled his mug again. He did not pay attention to drunken man ambling over to get a refill until that man bumped heavily in Adrahil, sloshing the mead over his hand.
"Hey!" he protested, turning to admonish the man. He had expected it to be one of the men he had befriended over the past few weeks, but was surprised to see it was Lord Konrad.
Konrad's eyes widened in feigned shock. With a slight bow, he said "Oh, I am sorry, Your Grace. It won't happen again." His fake expression was quickly replaced by a sly smile as he waited for Adrahil's response.
Adrahil stiffened at Konrad's address. It had been months since he had been called Your Grace. He had been so careful with is identity, surely Konrad had simply made a mistake.
But Konrad's smile widened as he watched Adrahil frantically calculate the likelihood that he had been discovered. "Or do you prefer 'Your Majesty'. I never can keep all those titles straight."
Adrahil took a step forward, straightening his shoulders as he did so, and looked down his long nose at Konrad. He knew that his posture alone could serve as a warning to a weaker man, and almost anyone who knew the mayor of Laketown would certainly argue Konrad was just that. But Konrad remained unfazed. He simply watched Adrahil with his sly smile, waiting for the anger that was sure to follow his taunting.
"Laerhil! What's taking so long?" Bain's shout broke through the haze of black anger growing in Adrahil's mind. It was a familiar anger that wove between the threads of panic that Lord Konrad had induced. What had Konrad actually said that was so offensive? Most people in Laketown and Dale were unfamiliar with court titles. Many had deduced that Adrahil held a fairly high position in the Prince's household, perhaps Konrad assumed that he too held a title. Did that justify the fact that Adrahil had been moments away from drawing his sword and advancing on the man? The darkness was still watching him, still affecting him, and Adrahil realized with horror, that it nearly drove him to cutting down an innocent man in front of a few dozen witnesses.
Or was he that innocent? As Adrahil backed away from Konrad, eventually turning and walking quickly away, he couldn't help but feel that Konrad had been very intentional with his 'mistake.' He had waited until Adrahil was alone so he could provoke him without drawing attention to himself. His phrasing, though casual, also carried a sly tone that mimicked his smile. He didn't even flinch when Adrahil step forward. And surely, it wasn't a coincidence that that the blackness that had faded from Adrahil's mind over the course of the day suddenly returned when Konrad had issued his subtle threat. Because that had to be what it was - a threat. He was letting Adrahil know that his identity was not as well hidden as he thought it was.
Adrahil was deep in thought when he joined Bain, Kili, and Gimil at the table. They were all eating heartily and gulping down the ale like it was freshly drawn water. He sat down heavily next to Bain and took a long drink of his mead, immediately regretting that he had gotten more.
"Mahal, who shit in your ale?" Kili asked with a grin.
Adrahil rolled his eyes. "It's nothing."
"It's clearly not 'nothing'. You look more pissed off than Thorin after he has a meeting with the elf king," Gimli said.
"Or Ma after that time Dwalin told her she shoots like a girl."
"Or Sigrid after saw Brasi attacking Signi," Bain added.
Kili and Gimli both scowled at that and swore bitterly in the dwarven tongue. Adrahil had no idea what they were talking about, but the mention of Sigrid brought him out of his reverie.
"Wasn't Brasi that dwarf lord you executed a few months ago?" he asked. They all nodded, each of them carrying their own contemptuous expression. "How was the princess involved in all of that?"
Bain sighed before answering. It was clear he was not happy about her involvement at all. "Signi was visiting from Erebor and there was a riot started by Brasi and some of his men. I went to help Da deal with the situation, and I told Signi to stay with the girls. You may not know this about dwarves, but they can be particularly stubborn-"
"Especially Signi," Kili snorted.
"Especially Signi," Bain repeated. "She insisted on going back to Erebor right away, so she slipped out into the night and used the back alleys to make her way out of the gates before Thorin's men arrived. However, before she reached the gates, she was attacked by Brasi. If she hadn't had those daggers that Thorin gave her, I fear she would not have managed to escape."
"So how is Sigrid involved in this?" Adrahil had a sneaking suspicion that Sigrid's own stubbornness, which easily rivaled the dwarves, had led her to disobey Bain's orders to stay inside as well.
Bain huffed as he explained. "Sigrid never listens to me, so of course she decided to follow Signi to make sure she got out without any problems. I have no idea what she thought she could do – "
"From what I hear, she can be rather fearsome with a blade herself," Adrahil said with a faint smile, remembering their conversation from earlier that morning.
"She can defend herself if necessary," Bain assented reluctantly. "Da made sure of that years ago. But not against a crowd of men, many of whom are trained to kill quickly. Sigrid doesn't usually claim to be some sort of warrior woman, like Tilda does, but I think she sometimes overestimates her own strength."
Adrahil thought that was an odd thing to say. Sigrid didn't seem to have any sort of bravado about her. She was confident and did not hesitate to take charge when necessary, but she didn't seem like the type to throw herself headlong into danger.
Bain continued with his story. "She followed Signi and caught up with her in time to witness Signi slashing Brasi across the face. He had her by the throat, and Sigrid says she was weakening fast. She didn't seriously injure him, but he did let go of her and she managed to escape. I had never seen Sigrid as angry as she was when she returned. She wanted to go to Erebor that night to tell the king what she had seen, but Da forbade it. She ended up writing a letter, and well, you know the rest…"
"Which brings us back to my question: Who shit in your ale?" Kili said with a wicked grin. The dwarf prince had a contagious sort of mischief, and Adrahil chuckled as he tried to think of a response.
"You must forgive me my bad mood today, "he said slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to share with the dwarves. Bain and his father had thought he was losing his mind, he wasn't sure how Kili and Gimli would respond to his explanation. Beside him, Bain shifted uncomfortably on the bench, anticipating what Adrahil was going to say. "I encountered something in the woods, there on the western side of the river, something decidedly evil. I know, it sounds foolish, but something was hiding in the trees and it made me feel so angry that I nearly drew my sword right then and there, even though there was no one there."
"My men and I went down to inspect the area, but there was nothing there. Not even footprints," Bain explained.
"But it was definitely something," Adrahil said firmly. "Even Sigrid felt it."
"Sigrid felt the anger too?" Kili asked.
"No," Bain said, his expression growing dark. "She felt as though an unwelcomed gaze was following her wherever she went."
"And she still felt it this morning," Adrahil said. "It plagued her all night despite the extra guards the king ordered. Whatever that evil was that we encountered, it does not want to let us go. For a while, during the hunt, the feeling faded and everything was back to normal. But then it suddenly returned when I was getting my drink. Just this awful blackness that makes me want to run my sword through someone. It's not natural."
He expected Kili and Gimli to tell him he was just being silly, but instead their faces had grown solemn, and he just knew that they understood what he was talking about.
Bain picked up on their change in demeanor as well. "Oh, don't tell me you believe that there is some 'evil' lurking in the woods. We would have found something if it was truly strong enough to have that kind of a hold on them."
"The thing is," Kili said slowly, leaning towards them so he could speak quietly. "This isn't the first time we have heard of this. As you know, Bain, we have been getting dwarves moving in from the East. They have been coming in droves the last few weeks, I would say close to 300 eastern dwarves have come to Erebor. We have been scrambling to get them settled. But all of them come with the same story. They speak of some sort of evil rising in the east. They say men and dwarves are serving a faceless master. It makes people turn on their friends and families, drunk on resentment and fear and power."
"But what exactly is it?" Adrahil asked.
"No one really knows. There are a few leaders who have organized factions within all of the followers of this 'faceless master', but they are all one in the same. So far they seem to be staying far in the east. I haven't heard of anyone crossing the borders of Rhûn, but perhaps that has changed…"
"How is this the first time I have heard about this," Bain said incredulously. "For all we know the marauders are part of this."
"Perhaps they are," Kili said with a shrug. "But I don't think so. From what I gather, this evil is greater than anything we have known in this age."
Adrahil glared down at his empty cup, his stomach churning as he thought of his father's prediction months before. 'A darkness is falling over the land.' He had thought his father's obsession with securing an alliance in the east was just of sign of his advanced age, that his weakening mind was imaging enemies on every border. But now that his father's predictions were coming true, Adrahil wondered if perhaps Prince Angelimir possessed the same foresight his ancestors once had.
They did not continue talking about the darkness that had soured Adrahil's mood. The dwarves, sensing the shift in Adrahil and Bain, quickly changed the subject and their conversation drifted between discussing the new fortress King Thorin was establishing far to the north and how it related to Lady Signi, with whom the king seemed to have formed an attachment, but was subsequently rejected by her. Adrahil tried to smile as they cracked jokes about the lovesick Durins and formidable ladies, but his enthusiasm was long gone. Even Bain seemed to be distracted, his eyes watching his father as though he was attempting to send an unspoken message to where he sat with King Thorin.
It was nearly dusk when King Bard decided they must head back to Dale, taking with them a share of the wild boar they had killed that afternoon. King Thorin's hunters had dressed all of the hogs and prepared them for travel. They would be roasted over the fire burning the Great Hall overnight, and the next day, the final day of Yule, the people of Dale would feast and celebrate the longest night of the year.
Bain joined his father near the front of the group riding back to Dale, eager to tell him about the information that Prince Kili had shared. But Adrahil lingered near the back, his gaze steady on Lord Konrad who rode ahead of him. Adrahil did not doubt for a moment that his interaction with Konrad was exactly as he initially suspected, a threat. Furthermore, the anger that grew within him, an anger that was now tinged with jealousy, was irrefutable proof that the darkness he and Sigrid had encountered the day before was a greater evil than he had ever faced before. Adrahil didn't know exactly how Lord Konrad was connected to all of this, but it was clear that he was involved in it. And as they rode through the city gates, Adrahil's mind reaching a point far beyond reasoning, he vowed to take whatever steps necessary to keep Sigrid safe from that man, even if it led to his own death.