Chapter 6
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The Wargs' howling could be heard in the distance. The company of fifteen ran through the woods, putting as much distance as possible between them and the orc pack. The pack was chasing down Radagast. His rabbits were fast, the orcs had a hard time in catching up with him. No longer covered by the trees, the company kept running. They followed Gandalf's lead. Melda did not where he was taking them, hopefully somewhere safer.
"Where are you leading us?" Thorin asked Gandalf. The wizard did not answer.
They all hid behind a boulder when their roads was once cut off by the orcs. Melda could see over their heads one of them. He was sniffing around for them. An arrow struck the warg, and before the horn could be blown, another hit the orcs. The dwarves finished them off. The warg howled in pain, alerting the rest of the pack of their position.
"Move!" Gandalf shouted. "Run!"
Melda and the dwarves ran as fast as they could. The orc pack was on their heels. They ran into a small clearing. The pack was much larger than Melda had thought. The orcs were coming from every direction.
"There's more coming!" Kili shouted as they were now being surrounded by the orcs.
"Kili!" Thorin shouted back. "Shoot them!"
"We're surrounded!" Fili stated.
Kili shot an arrow at the closest to him. "Where's Gandalf?" Dori asked. Melda looked around her and, Gandalf was gone.
"Not again." She whispered.
"He's abandoned us." Dwalin spat out.
"Hold your ground!" Thorin ordered them.
Melda drew out her sword. "This way, you fools!" Gandalf called behind her.
"Come on, move:" Thorin urged them. "Quickly! All of you!"
Melda stopped at the entrance of a cave. Waiting for all the members of the company to go in. A warg came closer and Melda struck it down.
"Kili!" Thorin called his sister-son. "Run:"
Kili ran to them and Melda jumped in after him, followed by Thorin. A horn sounded in the distance. Rescue had come to them. There were sounds of battle that followed. A dead orc fell into the cage. An arrow in his neck. Thorin pulled out the arrow.
"Elves." He snarled.
"I cannot see where the pathway leads." Dwalin had gone further ahead. "Do we follow it or no?"
"Follow it, of course." Bofur replied.
"I think that would be wise." Gandalf said next to her.
"What are you up to, Old man?" Melda asked him.
The path was narrow and long. All they saw around them were high walls of rocks and the sky above their heads. That was all she could see but she could feel something else.
"Gandalf, where are we?" Bilbo asked a few minutes into their treks.
"You can feel it?" Gandalf asked the hobbit. Melda was behind them.
"Yes. It feels like…" Bilbo started. "Well, like magic."
"That's exactly what it is." Gandalf nodded. "A very powerful magic."
"There's light ahead." Gloin said.
They came out of the narrow path. Before stood an elven city. Beautiful. Waterfall and trees stood around the city. Melda had never seen anything as beautiful as this.
"The Valley of Imladris." Gandalf said. "In the common tongue, it's known by another name."
"Rivendell." Bilbo said.
"Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea."
"This was your plan all along." Thorin was seething. "To seek refuge with our enemy."
"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf told him. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."
"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin said. "They will try to stop us."
"Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered." Gandalf retorted. "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."
Meldamiriel had never been to Rivendell. She had met elves on her journeys but never had she set foot in an Elven city. This city looked wonderful. It was quiet and peaceful. The only noise was the sound of the running stream surrounding Rivendell.
"Mithrandir." An elf called walking down the stairs.
"Ah." Gandalf turned around to face him. Melda remained close to him. "Lindir."
Lindir then said something in Elvish. To which Gandalf replied; "I must speak with Lord Elrond."
"My Lord Elrond is not here." Lindir shook his head.
"Not here?" Gandalf repeated. "Where is he?"
A horn sounded in the distance. A group was trotting up to them. The dwarves reacted by closing their ranks. Forming a small circle as the elves paraded around them. Gandalf did not react in any way. So, Melda remained calm standing next to him. The Elves finally stopped.
"Gandalf." One of them called.
"Lord Elrond." Gandalf smiled happily. And both Elf and Grey Wizard proceeded to have a conversation in Elvish.
Elrond climbed down his horse. He walked up to Gandalf and embraced him as a friend would embrace another. "Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders." He stated. "Something or someone has drawn them near."
"Ah. That may have been us." Gandalf retorted turning to the company.
Thorin stepped toward Elrond. "Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."
"I do not believe we have met." Thorin answered.
"You have your grandfather's bearing." Elrond said. "I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain."
"Indeed?" Thorin said back. "He made no mention of you."
Elrond said something in Elvish, his eyes never leaving Thorin's face. "What is he saying?" Gloin started angrily. "Does he offer us insult?"
Melda's eyes shut and she shook her head. She knew that the dwarves would be wary of the elves. But now, it was as though they were looking for any excuses to attack the elves.
"No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food." Gandalf told him.
"Kind of you to invite us." Gandalf said as he and Melda followed Elrond to—what Melda assumed to be—the dining room. "Not really dressed for dinner."
"Well, you never are." Elrond replied.
Elrond, Gandalf, Thorin and Melda sat on a table on the side whereas the rest of the company sat in the center of the room. The music the elves played was quiet and peaceful. Appeasing.
"This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver." Elrond said looking at Thorin's sword. "A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin." He gave the blade to the Dwarf Prince. "May it serve you well." He took Gandalf's blade in his hands. "This is Glamdring, the Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin." And finally he looked at Melda's sword. "And this is Beriadhwen, the Guardian. Its wielder fell into battle protecting the King's life." Melda took back her sword. "These were made for the Goblin Wars of the First Age."
Melda looked at her sword before sheathing it. It seemed fitting that she acquired the Guardian. After all, that was why she was there—to protect Bilbo Baggins during this quest.
"How did you come by these?" Elrond asked them.
"We found them in a troll-hoard on the Great East Road shortly before we were ambushed by Orcs." Gandalf explained.
"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Elrond questioned him.
"Excuse me." Thorin stood up and walked away from his company, the elves. From everyone.
"Thirteen Dwarves, a halfling and a woman. Hm." Elrond started. Melda looked up and between Elrond and Gandalf. "Strange traveling companions, Gandalf."
"These are the descendants of the house of Durin." Gandalf replied. "They're noble, decent folk. And they're surprisingly cultured. They've got a deep love of the arts."
Right at this moment Bofur jumped on the table and started singing.
There's an Inn, there's an inn,
There's a merry old inn,
Beneath an old gray hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown,
The Man in the Moon,
Himself came down,
One night,
To drink his fill.
Melda loved the dwarves songs. They were cheerful and merry. But at this instant, she didn't think that it was appropriate for Rivendell. It was almost as though the dwarves were being disrespectful towards their hosts. Especially now that they were throwing food around them.
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,
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.
Melda's eyes fell shut. Exasperated and frustrated that the dwarves could not for once show themselves on their best behavior. It was certainly the animosity they felt towards the Elves. The animosity stopped them from appreciating the Elves' hospitality.
"Our business is no concern of Elves." Thorin said as they all stood around Elrond. Night had already fallen on Rivendell.
"For goodness sake, Thorin show him the map." Gandalf told him.
"It is the legacy of my people." Thorin retorted. "It is mine to protect, as are its secrets."
"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves." Gandalf said. "Your pride will be your downfall. You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond."
Thorin pulled out the map. "Thorin, no." Balin tried to stop him.
"Erebor." Elrond looked at Thorin after he looked at the map. "What is your interest in this map?"
"Mainly academic." Melda answered before looking at Gandalf.
"As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text." Gandalf added looking back at Melda.
Melda then looked at Thorin. He gave her a slight bow of the head. She gave a slight bow back.
"You still read ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" Gandalf asked Elrond. Elrond said something in Elvish. "Moon runes?" Gandalf said. "Of course." He turned to Melda and Bilbo. "An easy thing to miss."
"Well, in this case, that is true," Elrond said. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written."
"Can you read them?" Thorin asked him.
"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve—" Elrond started to explain as he led them to one of the waterfalls. "By the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight." Under the moonlight, a text in ancient Dwarvish appeared on the map. "Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks. And the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."
"Durin's Day?" Bilbo looked to Balin.
"It is the start of the Dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together." Gandalf explained.
"This is ill news." Thorin said. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."
"We still have time." Balin tried to reassure him.
"Time? For what?" Bilbo asked.
"To find the entrance." Balin replied quickly. "We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."
"So, this is your purpose, to enter the mountain?" Elrond asked.
"What of it?" Thorin said in a challenging manner.
"There are some who would not deem it wise." Elrond answered.
"What do you mean?" Gandalf asked him.
"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." Elrond answered.
In the morning, Meldamiriel walked around Rivendell. Her blond locks down on her back, she took in the sight of the Elven city. The sunlight shone brightly, it felt warm on her skin. And at night, the city almost looked mystic in the moonlight. Everything looked frozen in time here. As though the elves lived in their own world away from the rest of Middle-earth. Protected from the darkness of the world. The peacefulness and the quietness were broken by the presence of the dwarves. They were loud and kept on breaking things. Fortunately, the elves were very patient and resilient.
"Of course, I was going to tell you." Melda stood on one of the balconies, soon she was joined by Bilbo. She only smiled at him as she kept on listening in on Gandalf's and Elrond's conversation. "I was waiting for this very chance. And really, I think you can trust that I know what I am doing."
"Do you? That dragon has slept for sixty years." Elrond reminded him. "What will happen if your plan should fail if you wake that beast?"
"What if we succeed?" Gandalf retorted. "If the Dwarves take back the mountain our defenses in the east will be strengthened."
"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf." Elrond said.
"It is also dangerous to do nothing. Oh, come, the throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it you fear?"
"Have you forgotten, A strain of madness runs deep in that family." Melda stood straighter. She frowned at that. "His grandfather lost his mind; His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle-earth."
She sighed deeply and turned around to glance down at Bilbo. As she did so, she saw Thorin standing behind Bilbo. As he walked away, Melda wondered. How much of this conversation had he heard? What was that sickness that Elrond had spoken of? Was it safe to take back Erebor from Smaug?
At the dawn of the new day, the company of fourteen left Rivendell. Without Gandalf. Time was against them. Durin's Day was approaching and they needed to reach Erebor by that day. They had to get back on the road. And they would have to do without Gandalf. Meldamiriel did not want to leave the wizard behind but she couldn't let Bilbo alone either. She had to make a choice. And she chose Bilbo.