Chapter 13: T.A. 2790 – It is no bad Thing celebrating a Simple Life
A handful of white linen sheets spread not far from the dwarven king's homestead, covered with mushrooms, herbs and flowers, meant to dry within the late summer's sun, wreaths of heather and lavender hung from a stretched washing line, moving slowly with the wind, and baskets filled to the brim with nuts, acorns, chestnuts and beechnuts waited to get sorted and treated.
The humming of countless bees was to hear from behind the house, where, underneath a broad shelter, a dozen beehives were settled, while curious birds picked grain and seeds from the yard in front of the barn which had successfully escaped the sacks they were stored within.
Gammon, flitches and cured meet filled the larder as did cheese, huge glasses of pickles, jam and honey and bottles filled with oil, while a slight breeze carried a different scent over from the small baking house settled behind the king's hall.
It tickled the nose not only of Dis and her father's maidservant, but also of her guest.
Thranduil knew, his time to be spent in Dunland was limited. He'd have to leave soon, if he wanted to make it to the hidden valley of Imladris before autumn and if he wanted to cross the High Pass before the first snow would fall.
There was nothing left, he could do: Thrain would lead his people to war and the dwarves of all seven kingdoms would follow him. The two young princes, Thorin and Frerin, understood what he wanted to tell them – that it was madness to fight the orcs blindfolded from grief and filled with hatred – but they would not stay behind, if their father would call for them.
'Would I have stayed back in Amon Lanc when Oropher went to fight in front of the Black Gate', he asked himself: 'Would my son stay back if I'd fight in battle again? Yes', he assured himself: 'Legolas would stay behind, because I'd order him to do so. But, would he follow this order? Supposedly not...'
The elvenking knew, Thrain's sons would not stay here just as little as his son would leave him to go to war all on his own.
None the less he felt the urge to talk to the Lord of Imladris. Elrond was known for to care much about the well-being of all free peoples of Middle Earth and, be it as it may, he might have an answer to some of his questions, which, as he reminded himself, had been the main reason for his journey: getting answers to unsaid questions...
It was the voice of the dwarven princess which tore him out of his thoughts when she asked: "Did the scent of the fresh baked bread carry you over here, master Othar?" She wiped her brow and nodded towards the maidservant: "Go and get our guest some bread and butter, Gyda. I'll get along on my own for a while."
The maid hinted a bow and left for the king's hall, before he was able to hold her back.
"Still worried about my welfare, daughter of Durin?"
Dis laughed while she wiped her hands clean on her skirts: "Just as long as I know you'll hang around here in your human form. There is nothing wrong with letting yourself get spoiled; even if it's just a little."
She looked up, catching his gaze, and grinned, her cheeks stained with flour and smut from the oven and with strands of her hair escaping the bonnet she wore.
Thranduil returned the smile and for a split second he felt pushed back to Erebor. There was still enough of the dwarfling hidden inside the young princess and even the hardship of exile had not been able to take this away from her.
"It is not known much in the tales of old that a dwarf ever became a farmer", he said: "but as it seems the daughter of the mountain king's son enjoys her new life."
"You seem to be surprised?"
"It is uncommon for a daughter of kings and a sister of kings to be..."
"...says the king who travels unrecognized."
He cocked an eyebrow, but he swallowed his answer as within the same moment the maid returned carrying a tray with her with buttered bread and a jug of cider.
Dis gave her a nod and dismissed her: "This will do for now, Gyda. Leave us alone!"
She waited till the maid vanished back inside, then she offered her guest bread and wine, explaining: "It is not that I don't miss Erebor and what I remember of it, but it is not as much as my father or my brothers remember. I grew up, travelling the wilderness, living on the road and later amongst the hills of Dunland. This hall, this place, these lands...this is my home now. You know, my lord", she took a draft of the cooled apple wine: "there are not many women amongst the children of Durin and mostly we're kept hidden from the world. We don't travel very often, so", she smiled: "this is one of the rare occasions where I'll be allowed to see the world through my own eyes. It is true and you looked me through: I enjoy this life a lot."
Thranduil had no doubt that she meant what she had just told him. The young princess appeared to be content and at peace with herself, even if this place was far from all the comfort the great halls of Erebor would have provided her with.
He spun his mug of cider slowly in his hands, his gaze fixed on a spot in front of him, until he lifted his gaze and replied: "I know, there are many amongst your kin who blame me for not having sent help, when the Lonely Mountain fell. Many will even say that it was the fault of the elves that they have to live a life in exile now – that is why you're the only one aware who's hidden underneath the shell of this rough ranger of the north..."
"You honour me, my lord, showing your trust to me, but how can I be of use for you? You heard my brother, you heard my grandfather. Would you have taken the risk to give your cover away in my father's presence?"
"That, young daughter of Durin, would not have been wise, but who knows of what value it might be one day, what I consider to tell you."
"What makes you sure that I'm the right one to listen to you?"
"Because you are supposed to understand." When he got aware of her inquiring gaze, he blinked and added: "You know about exile and what it means to live far from the place you once considered home. So do I."
"How?" Dis looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and amazement.
"I don't think you know much about elves." He raised a hand with a small smile: "No offence meant, but since your people and mine are not on familiar terms for a rather long while, it's just not to expect. The halls you were allowed to explore, when your brother took you to Greenwood, have not always been the home of my kin. Our home lay far in the west, settled between the Ered Luin and the sea – the realm of Ossiriand or...Lindon. At that time, Gil-galad, the High-King, ruled, but as amongst the children of Durin, there are also different clans amongst the elves and not all of them agreed about the reign of the king. One of them was my father."
"So there were unconquerable differences?"
"That is a nice description of the goings-on which drove my kin away from the realm in the west and I won't give any more details away about them. My father led our people into exile. Willingly. And for many years. Until we crossed the Hithaeglir, the Misty Mountains, and settled down amongst the woods across the Great River. What we found there quickly turned into our new home."
Dis listened to him with a slight smile and finally said after a moment of silence: "I may have been a wee lass at that time, but when you granted us shelter after the dragon attacked us, it did not escape me, that you love the place you made your home."
"I do and so do you!"
She nodded while her gaze wandered over the hills and the heathlands in front of her: "These lands may not be rich, but life was peaceful amongst the hills. And", she turned round: "the mountains are close. What else could a dwarf wish for?"
Before he could give her a reply, the dwarrowdam frowned and her eyes widened when a familiar scent began to tickle her nose.
"Oh Mahal! How could I forget about it..."
Without any warning, she turned round and ran over to the baking house.
Thranduil, still in the shape of Othar, the ranger, shrugged and followed her, just to find her busy at work – removing fresh baked bread from the oven.
Her cheeks were reddened and her brow was covered with sweat, but the small woman would not complain. She was used to this and she knew which movements were required and within just a few moments the huge basket in front of the oven got filled.
The scent was alluring and it would not matter if some spots were a little darker than others. He was convinced the taste would match the scent.
"You almost made me forget my duties", she laughed when she found him standing under the door-frame: "In punishment of this you'll keep me company when I'll do the laundry later today. The rivulet is not far from here and I'll enjoy some spirited conversation."
Thranduil sat on a fallen tree, his back leaned against another, the hood of his cape halfway covering his head as he enjoyed staying himself while watching the young dwarf woman beating water out of the cleaned laundry.
"One could think, you're fighting an army of goblins, daughter of Thrain. I assume, I can name myself lucky that I am the one I am."
"Just avoid stumbling upon my brother, then you'll be safe, Thranduil Elvenking! No dangers are to be expected from my side."
"You are kind beyond measure."
For several moments there were no other sounds, but the murmur of the river, the wind in the trees and the wet pieces of cloth meeting the closest stone, until Dis asked: "Did you ever question your immortality?"
He lifted his eyebrows staring at her in utter confusion.
Why this question?
What was this to her?
And...did he?
He got born immortal, there had never been a choice, neither for him, nor for his father or any other elf. It was what they were, immortal, as the world they got born into was mortal.
So he replied: "I did not. Not so far..."
"Grandfather once told us that you fought in the war of the Last Alliance, the war in which the Dark Lord got vanquished."
"That is true. Many followed the call and faced the evil. So did one of your ancestors."
"Yes", she responded in a thoughtful voice: "and many got slaughtered and never saw their homesteads again."
"Too many", he agreed: "and I wished I could rid my mind of the memories of all those battles we had to fight in..."
Dis looked at him and even though he was tried to hide what troubled him, there was still that hint of pain and sadness somewhere underneath the well-proportioned features of his face.
"That is why you did not dare to fight the dragon?"
"That, young princess, is only one reason. I am sorry for the losses your people suffered, but I am not sorry that I spared the lives of mine."
His voice sounded cold and distant within this moment, as if he tried hard to push certain memories back to a place deep within his innermost which were close to reach the surface.
Dis picked up another piece of laundry and went on while she pretended to be busy: "It was not the first dragon you came across..."
"Stop it!" He cut her off and hissed: "Do not force me to remember what better remains locked away. You may wake a thing you would be unable to handle!"
"Don't you think we all carry our demons with us?" She lowered her gaze: "I'm not afraid of your memories or of your sadness or of your fury. I feel the same, even if it might not be as powerful as yours. What I am afraid of is what the death of my grandfather will set off! I'm afraid of what the fury of my father will set off! We lived in peace amongst these hills and woods and rivers. No killing, no death for twenty years. That is not much in a lifespan of an elf, but it is much measured by the lifespan of a dwarf. I fear the demon the grief and the pain will set off and this demon is war! You heard them. Even my brothers would follow its call if my father would summon them. My grandfather is dead. More bloodshed won't bring him back..."
"My apologies, princess", Thranduil replied: "my words were not meant to offend you, but my demons, as you name them, are still very alive and I will not take the risk of letting them consume me. I know what I faced in front of the Black Gate of Mordor and I will not allow it to crawl back into the light."
He paused for a moment, before he added: "Be assured, there is nothing wrong with wishing for a simple life, it is just that not all of us are allowed to lead one – if by our own will or by the will of others..."