Chapter Forty -One: Gandalf
Year Unknown: The Lonely Mountain
Extract from the personal memoirs of Algirk Stonesinger.
I was a dwarf of but fifty-four years when we arrived at the Lonely Mountain, a displaced people searching for a homeland when so many were out of our reach. None of us were strangers to hardship or grief, so we all recognised the full magnitude of our Maker's gift to us when we first truly beheld that magnificent peak with the brilliant, fertile, green land and forests at its feet. We of Durin's folk are not, and have never been, farmers, but even we could recognise the beauty of such a place untouched by dwarf, Man or elf this far north of the Greenwood.
Truly, my father said to me as we drew closer, we could build a great kingdom here, one which would [here there is water damage]
…signs of cultivation! Paths which wound around neatly tended fields, herds of sheep and even the occasional small pony. And then, finally, as we came around a corner, was a door built right into the side of the hill. Surrounded by flowers and sweet-smelling herbs and painted so as to be nearly unnoticeable from a distance. A round door with perfectly square, shuttered windows on either side. Ill luck, indeed, should these people object to us settling the mountain.
We were met, then, by several of the inhabitants of those hills, and being an apprentice to my father I was permitted to be present. They were quite the strangest creatures I have ever beheld. Short and stout, with a wealth of curls in halos of brown and gold about their heads. Those curls could not hide their delicate, leaf-shaped ears that brought to mind the haughty elves of the woods to the south. Their faces, in the manner of elves and Mannish babes, were quite bare and, indeed, we would have thought them children were it not for the pipes between their lips and their feet which were far too large for their diminutive stature. Such feet they were! Shockingly bare and well covered in thick hair that was, nonetheless, neatly kept.
Then two stepped forward, both with eyes of the most vibrant indigo. From their garments we could see that one was male and one a female. In that moment I must confess that my heart was quite lost to the female with her curls of brilliant gold.
"Welcome," spoke the male, "and be at peace for our Lady Mother has told us of your coming and bid us embrace your arrival."
"Come," the female continued, "let us-"
[Here the text has been irreparably damaged]
T.A. 2941 The Ruins of Dale
This, Gandalf thinks irritably as he's led to the tent where Thranduil and Bard have made their headquarters, is precisely the sort of situation he had hoped to avoid. It is also exactly what he had feared would happen when he realised the sickness on the Greenwood had a darker feel than that of the land around the mountain. The death of the land around the mountain is easily traced and explained (when he has the chance to do so with the relevant parties). Being diverted to discover the source of that extra darkness had been an irritation.
"Mithrandir," Thranduil doesn't look at him, his pale eyes turned upon a silver goblet. The finest Dorwinion red, no doubt, and as much as Gandalf likes it, he feels that, perhaps, it's rather too early. "I should have known you had some hand in all of this."
"You cannot blame me for the fact that Thorin is refusing to treat with you," Gandalf replies mildly. "Thorin Oakenshield's distaste for elves is well known and approaching him in force when the mountain is so newly won-" he spreads his hands and raises his eyebrows.
"I rather doubt they would have come to this part of the world at all, if not for your interference." Thranduil lounges in his chair, although it's really more of a throne, and, somehow, he manages to make even that appear elegant. "You would expect, I suppose, that we wait until he has an army behind his fortifications. To go to him as beggars hoping for his magnanimous attention and a pittance instead of the true value of that which we are owed."
"Whether you are owed anything at all is not the matter at hand," Gandalf huffs.
While they debate this, disaster is only hours, perhaps a day, behind him. Man, dwarf and elf will need to come together as they might once have done when hobbits lived under the hills around Erebor and Dale. A tall order given the amount of bad blood between Thorin and Thranduil. A taller one still if the gold in the mountain has affected Thorin in the way Gandalf fears it might.
"That mountain was won on the suffering of my people," Bard interrupts. "They unleashed that dragon on Lake Town and as a result we have lost everything. I'm not sure what you think might be of greater importance, but my greater concern is ensuring my people live through winter. We have no shelter, no food and no time to rebuild before the first snow comes."
Gandalf can understand Bard's frustration, he really can, but it makes his news all the more urgent. Had Lake Town still been standing they could have destroyed the bridge and, maybe, they would have been safer from the danger heading their way. At least for a time. Now they're completely vulnerable.
Of course, none of this would be a problem if the dwarves and hobbits of old had stayed put in the first place. By the time Gandalf had heard anything of it, it had been too late to do anything about it (and he'd had a few choice words for Saruman about the whole thing after Thorin I's departure, and Radagast when the hobbits followed). It is, however, long in the past and his focus now must be on fixing it.
"Then the army of orcs currently marching on the mountain should be of great interest to you," he settles for saying. Bard stares in abject horror but Thranduil merely scoffs.
"Really, Mithrandir, is that the best you have?"
"You don't believe him?" Bard asks.
"This is your first time dealing with the wizard, I assume?" The elf levels a cool glare at the man, who nods. "Then you should know he is quite adept at using words to manipulate a situation to suit him. He wishes for peace between us and the dwarves and so a small raiding party becomes an army." He pauses to take a drink. "And to think Lord Elrond values your council." He gets to his feet. "Still, no sense in endangering my people when it is obviously Oakenshield and his gold the orcs want. We shall depart just as soon as we may."
"What of your son?" Bard asks and Gandalf frowns. "He is still in the mountain."
"He has made his choice," Thranduil replies. "Had he done as I ordered he would already have departed their company."
"I thought you said they were holding him against his will?" Bard sounds appalled and Gandalf wonders what games Thranduil has been playing now.
"If he was foolish enough to arouse their suspicion and get himself caught, I suppose they are," Thranduil considers his wine. "If the orcs are here for Oakenshield it will be the perfect opportunity for him to escape, although his failure is irksome."
This was definitely a mistake, Gandalf thinks miserably. He should have tried to reason with Thorin first, but he always underestimates just how little Thranduil cares for his advice. At least Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel will always consider it, though they don't always necessarily follow. Thranduil has a nasty habit of dismissing anything Gandalf and the others of his order say out of hand. It's probably why the orc infestation in Dol Guldur was permitted to get so out of control. Even if Erebor is the orcs primary target, however, they won't be happy until the entire region, from Mirkwood to Gundabad, is under their control. If the mountain is their only goal it will be bad enough, it took a dragon to get the dwarves out of Erebor, if the orcs take it the region is lost anyway.
"The orcs are too close and too many," he insists. "We have hours, maybe a day at most. You need to set aside your differences and come together against the greater threat."
Thranduil ignores him, waving over an elleth and murmuring quiet instructions to her. Gandalf could continue to argue until the orcs get here, but there are more pressing matters to be dealt with. He advises Bard to do all he can to prepare to keep his people safe and departs in much the same manner as he arrived. He needs to get into that mountain. Now.