The Eye of the Ice Dragon
by Elarin
This chapter is for those of you who have ever wondered why Elrond the Elf seemed to have no gripes about the twelve dwarves who had made their way into the Last Homely House during "The Hobbit."
The Dwarves (& the colors of their cloaks) [from "The Hobbit"]: Thorin Oakenshield (sky blue), Balin (red), Dwalin (green), Fili (blue), Kili (blue), Bombur (pale green), Bifur (yellow) Bofur (yellow), Nori (purple), Dori (purple), Ori (grey), Oin (brown), Gloin (white)
*
Chapter 13 | The Sons of Earendil, The Sons of Elrond
Please… don't leave me, she whispered. Her dreams came in fever, this time her forehead burned with fire instead of ice and she coughed and cried tearfully because of the pain that had started to inflict itself upon her body. Elrond looked at her weakly as he chaged the make-shift cloth of melted snow on her forehead. Three days into the journey and her condition worsened. He had chosen to stop on the third night and had started a fire since the winds seemed to have died down. Telperiel lay wearily with Elrond's cloak on top of her.
From time to time in her sleep she muttered things fitfully in her own strange tongue, sometimes waking up terribly startled and afraid and crying and all Elrond could do was rock her in his arms and sing to her a soft lullaby. She is becoming as we first found her, he thought warily, like a child, lost, afraid, and injured.
Strange injuries had begun appearing on her out of nowhere and with them came the strange misunderstanding between them that saddened Elrond further because she seemed to forget the Sindarin she once knew, and even at times hear Elrond's voice and become startled until after a few moments she recovered and her memory returned.
In all of the long ages he had worked and strived to become a healer at this moment Elrond felt powerless.
Nothing he did seemed to aid her, no soft spell, no medicine, nor potion, not even a song sung.
She was falling away from him little by little and he could not even manage to tell her that he loved her because when he tried the words faltered at the thought that he was taking her to her doom and when he looked at her weak form suffering from a terrible bane he felt almost like a traitor.
I cannot go on, he thought tearfully closing his eyes his lips pressed against her dark hair, I cannot continue to walk this path to see her die in the end…
When he finally felt her sleep within his arms he too fell asleep out of weariness and despair soon after her.
*
You must go on, said Elros in the darkness of his mind, because if you do not she shall perish. Elrond turned to his brother almost angrily feeling his sadness for Telperiel smolder into a wrath in a single moment.
How can you ask me to do this? He nearly snapped. Around them was the darkness once more but Elrond could see his brother clearly, a shining figure, now clad in a tunic embellished with the emblem of the White Tree crowned in its stars. Elros smiled softly at his brother and Elrond felt his anger die away soon afterward.
You are a healer, Elrond, Elros said softly his expression sober, I ask you to heal now in a way no other would dare be capable of doing. The pity in your heart would move you to bring happiness and peace to Silme and it tempts you to return her to Imladris where she once had her physical sanity, but the wisdom in your mind tells you that there is something beyond the flesh that she is and her spirit pleads to you, Elrond, and you know what needs to be done…
I cannot do this, Elrond replied remembering the terror that overtook her in her nightmares, remembering her the physical pain she suffered.
Yes you can, Elros answered encouragingly, You can save her, you know how to. Vaire* weaved her threads so that you would find Silme because the Weaver of Fate saw Silme's thread fading from her tapestry and she could not allow that and so she brought your thread to cross hers and slowly, though you may not realize it, as you near the end of your journey her thread grows strong again.
What am I to do then? When I near the end of this journey? Elrond demanded still sullen in mood.
You shall know, he whispered and then he faded away and the darkness around him fell away and he was greeted by the sun in early morning and cold whispering haunted breezes of the Fell Winter.
*
"Carn Dûm?" muttered Ingmar as they treaded across the forests that morning, "I don't believe I agreed to this." Halbarad and Glorfindel walked ahead of him and Gandalf trailed behind looking around thoughtfully. The woods were thick with snow and they wore heavy wool cloaks and traveled lightly. The skies were cloudy where they walked and for the most part they moved quietly and swiftly hoping not to attract the attention of any stray dark creature that might be wandering about.
"Wait," Glorfindel said, "I hear something."
"Aye," said Halbarad softly, "Horse hooves." Ingmar clutched the hilt of his sword all the while silently wondering of the Witch King which Gandalf had spoken to them of an earlier evening days before.
"Not likely," said Gandalf as if reading his thoughts, "The Witch King does not travel during day light. At least not usually…"
"That is an encouraging thought." growled Ingmar under his breath, but then he released the hilt seeing that the horses were snow white and that atop them were two raven haired elves, nearly identical, wearing thick blue cloaks.
"Glorfindel! Halbarad! Mae govanen!" smiled one of them.
"Suilad, Elladan!" Glorfindel greeted though his expression was serious and worried.
"Why have you come here, so far from the marches which you guard, friends?"
Both brothers dismounted and the second one wrinkled his brow at the golden haired elf, "We should be asking you the same question," said Elrohir, "We have been trailing you for over three days now, the Rangers of Amon Sûl pointed us the way you left." He turned toward the grey wizard, "Pray! Would you tell us whyever in all your thought and deed are you heading to Angmar for?"
"Why is our lord not with you?" added Elladan.
Gandalf gave a great and grievous sigh.
"Your father is taking care of other matters involving Telperiel," said Gandalf, "But if you would wish to help him then you are welcome to join our party for there is something we need to take care of in Angmar."
"Is it the Arano Morgul?*" asked Elladan warily, "For we both have heard strange voices in the air, even the trees shiver when there is no wind about and a shriek of dark threat grows in our minds."
Glorfindel nodded slowly putting a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Indeed, that is what we are going to face." Glorfindel replied to them, "We are heading into Angmar, the old kingdom of the Arano Morgul, where orcs fester and vultures feast, and where much of the land is now wasteland and barren, cold and stony. It is toward Carn Dûm that our journey takes us, to the broken tower where the Nazgul dwells."
"If there are orcs to be slain," said Elrohir, "We shall certainly go." Gandalf looked at each of them some worry flickering in his eyes.
"There are more foul things than just orcs to be slain." He said.
Ingmar shivered as he exchanged glances with Halbarad, "Now that, is an encouraging thought."
*
The sunlight was not the only thing that startled Elrond but also the sight of thirteen cloaked and bearded faces looking at him curiously.
Dwarves.
"Are you alright, sir elf?" asked the one wearing a sky blue robe his voice the deep grumble of a storm as he spoke a fluent Sindarin of Thranduil's realm, "For we saw your fire from afar and wondered at it and at treading here this morning we saw the make-shift encampment you made and we wondered if you were in trouble."
Elrond blinked twice uncertain for a moment of how to reply, it had been a long time since he had any dealings with dwarves.
"I am well," Elrond replied then he glanced down at Telperiel still leaning on his chest her breathing weak and shallow. He felt her forehead for a moment, it still burned, "But my companion is not." He said mostly to himself. The pack of dwarves exchanged glances and suddenly began quietly speaking into their own tongue and it seemed to Elrond that they were holding an argument of some sort… most likely involving him.
Elves and Dwarves for the most part did not get along very well.
But their small argument soon ended and the one wearing the sky blue robe looked at him solemnly, "If your road brings you trouble, and sickness to your friend, then we would invite you to rest a while, for we have shelter not far from this place and if you wish for some food and fire, and rest and medicine for your friend we may have some." Elrond looked at him and nodded slowly.
"I thank you." said Elrond, "Forgive my lack of manners, I am Elrond of Rivendell." He told the Dwarves switching to common tongue since had he given the name of his home in Sindarin it would be to easily found. The dwarf in the sky blue robe nearly jumped at his own thoughts.
"Nay! Forgive our manners." He gave a clumsy bow, that fit for a dwarf, "I am Thorin Oakenshield, Son of the King Under the Mountain, at your service!" The one next ot him wearing a white cloak bowed soon after.
"I am Gloin at your service!"
"Nori," said one in purple.
"Dori!" said the other in purple and both of them bowed, "At your service!" they said simultaneously.
"Fili, Kili, wishing the same!" said the two in blue cloaks.
"Bifur!"
"And Bofur!" bowed the two in yellow.
"And I am Bombur!" said the one in the pale green robe.
"Ori," began the one grey.
"and Oin, at your service!" finished the one in brown.
"And I am Dwalin, Son of Fundin" said the one in green giving a slight bow.
"And I am Balin, Brother of Dwalin." said the one in the red cloak, "Honored to meet you Lord of Rivendell!"
"And I am honored to meet you all Lord Dwarves." Elrond said softly. In his arms, Telperiel stirred slightly.
"What does the mortal lady suffer?" asked Gloin who seemed very much concerned, "Her breath is short."
"Indeed," said Elrond warily, "She is terribly ill and I am having trouble healing her." He admitted sadly.
"Well then!" said Thorin with some resolve in his tone, "Seems to me that a good meal would make her better! I own a small mansion at the foot of this mountain pass leaning toward the Anduin, although we ourselves are heading Westward we have decided to stop a while, but before making our trip to my home we decided to see who owned the fire at that top of the pass and that led us to you, sir!"
"I pray the stars shine at our meeting then, Master Dwarves, and for your kindness and welcome someday I too shall repay you all equally well." Elrond managed a smile toward the Dwarven king.
Thorin let out a rumbling laughter filled with mirth and the other dwarves also smiled, "You speak like the dwarven kings of old, Lord Elf! Come! Carry your lady with you then, we'll tarry no longer in this cold and barren place. The path is short and easy! And my hidden home warm with its stores still running with wine and warm with bread and fire!"
*
Night fell with a snowy cloak blanketing the land of Angmar. Between the border of the forests and the barren lands Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and Gandalf acompanied by the two Rangers, Halbarad and Ingmar, stood silently brooding at the sight before them. The winds of the northlands seemed to echo with an old and haunted howl and the shrieks of orcs and goblins beyond it. The trees of Angmar were ancient dead and fell things, and they glowered at their visitors from the opening path into the old kingdom of the Witch King.
"What a cursed place this is." Halbarad said quietly looking ahead of him.
"Oh yes," agreed Ingmar, "And the weather makes it none the better." Gandalf seemed to be the one brooding more than the rest of them.
"As soon as we step into Angmar," said the grey wizard warily, "Our presence shall be noticed."
"That is no surprise," said Ingmar sardonically, "Supplying the fact that our hosts are bound to give us a party of a welcome… and I do mean a party."
"I find it amazing how you can still jest as we stand here, mellon," said Elrohir looking at the Ranger, "For I think that Gandalf's earlier words were true. There are more than just orcs in these lands." The older Ranger shrugged.
"Elrohir, you know my whims already. Let me at least die laughing." Ingmar said quietly.
"We'd rather not you die at all." replied Glorfindel looking at him, "Pray that we all come out of this and live." Ingmar gave a sigh as he turned and looked at Gandalf.
"Elves," He muttered though his voice was edged with humor, "They don't understand that all of us mortals die someday…"
"We understand," replied Glorfindel with a slight smile catching his jesting mood immediately, "But we'd just rather not have to go through the trouble of burrying you while we're journeying."
Ingmar laughed quietly, "Glorfindel, I'd be a grave man, indeed!" Elrohir raised an eyebrow at both of them.
"I do not believe you can jest about such things."
Ingmar grinned at the younger elf.
"My dear Elf, if we do not jest about it then we fall into despair and hopelessness." Ingmar told him his eyes twinkling, "I, as a mortal, do not fear death. I certainly don't know what lies beyond it but I've decided early in my life I wouldn't fret about it and I have vowed that I would enjoy each of my days spent in Arda and besides, a jest a day keeps me young, methinks."
Gandalf smiled genuinely at Ingmar and lay a hand on the old Ranger's shoulder.
"I think, Ingmar, that you would make a wonderful teacher to your race."
Glorfindel smiled at them both gaining a strange affection for the mortal ranger he had so recently met.
"Well," said Ingmar as he looked up seriously, "Shall we steal into their land as thieves in the darkness or shall we knock on the Witch King's tower door and tell him the cram he ordered from Hollin has arrived?"
At this the twin sons of Elrond could not hold back their smiles of amusement.
"Thieves into the night sounds like a worthy plan," said Glorfindel unstrapping his bow, "Though we shall mark your words of the latter plan just in case." He added wryly.
"Oh good!" said Ingmar earning an amused glance from Halbarad.
"Let us be off then!" said Gandalf, and they followed him into the barren lands of Angmar.
*
The small mansion of Thorin was nothing near small, though it was no Khazad-Dum* either. Strong carved beams of stone held up the cathedral like ceiling and torches glowed in the wide halls lighting the ways to the rooms throughout. Thorin led Elrond to one of the guest rooms, made with a bed the size of a mortal men and a fire place already burning beside it. He helped Telperiel removed her boots and her cloak and lay her down upon the bed.
"What luck," said Thorin, "That my fore father used to entertain mortals in this home when he did stone work and trade. 'Tis good that we have such rooms here for you. I shall return shortly and bring you some herbs and a meal for your both since I know that you may be busying yourself with her." Elrond nodded.
"Once again, you have my thanks, Master Dwarf." Thorin smiled at him and Elrond was glad that he saw no suspicion in his glance.
"You are welcome, Master Elf." He said and scuttled out of the room. Elrond gave a small sigh as he turned to Telperiel worriedly and stroked her forehead.
"Telperiel," He whispered quietly, "Tulien anim, nimloth-nin…"*
Her blind eyes opened sleepily for a moment.
"Elrond…?" She rasped the question.
"I am here." He said wrapping his hand in hers.
"Where are we?" She said her eyes slowly closing and it seemed to Elrond she was comfortable here, "It is warm."
"Aye," said Elrond managing a smile, "It is warm. It is the home of the Dwarves, the mansion of Thorin Oakenshield, Son of the King Under the Mountain." He was satisfied with the amused smile that flickered on her usual pained expression.
"That sounds like a title indeed if I ever heard one." she whispered. Elrond got up and tucked her into the warm wool woven blankets. Sitting next to her on the foot of the bed, "Elrond," she said after a while, "Where are you taking me?" Elrond turned to her and winced inwardly. The Halfelf swallowed to quell the dryness that took his throat.
"I…" He began, but a knock on the doorway interrupted them and Elrond was thankful for the interruption. Gloin walked in with a slight smile on his lips as he carried plates of fine roasted meat, warm bread, and mugs of ale.
"Greetings!" He said, "I've brought you some of the food from our table, I pray you'll like it! We don't know much about elvish cooking…" Elrond smiled at the dwarf thankfully.
"It smells fit enough for me, Master Gloin, for I have not eaten much in over four days." Elrond replied, "This is my companion, Telperiel." He introduced. As soon as Gloin put the plates down at a table he gave a bow.
"At your service, my lady!"
Telperiel smiled once again from her bed. "Thank you, Master Gloin." She managed her own voice still weak.
"Hmmm…" said Gloin looking at her curiously, "I shall have to go fetch some warm wine to soothe that voice of yours! I shall return shortly!" And he left as soon as he came. Elrond smiled after him, I suppose he is the healer among them, thought Elrond.
"Aha!" came Gloin's voice again and he soon returned with another mug, "Here you are!" Elrond took the mug and helped Telperiel drink from it, and then handed her the plate of food.
"'Tis not the best of remedies we have," said Gloin scratching his head, "But 'tis the best I can offer at this moment."
"'Tis enough, I assure you," said Elrond kindly as he took up his own plate glad for the heat of the dwarven food, "You have done much for us and I shall not forget it." He then looked to the dwarf curiously, "But I was wondering, you said you and your companions were traveling into the west, might I ask why?" Gloin sighed and settled himself down on a wooden cushioned chair at the corner of the room.
"We come from Esgaroth. Erebor* was once the home of King Thorin's father." began Gloin, "But long ago a dragon laid claim to his castle and his trove and now it slumbers beneath the mountain and King Thorin seeks to reclaim it." The dwarf gave a sigh, "Due to the shadow that creeps ever westward many of the dwarves have become a wandering band, Balin and Dwalin, the sons of Fundin, lost their home of Khazad-Dum to Durin's Bane and to the goblins and orcs who have invaded our mountains. Many of the old passes are not safe anymore, dark things wander about and we have no peace."
Elrond knew very well of what he spoke. In the Second Age when Sauron was at the height of his power he had managed to move his forces into Eriador, when the elves and the Numenoreans went against him and forced him back many stray bands of orcs and other foul creatures fled and hid in the mountains. They delighted in torture and death of others and it was because of them that Celebrian had been lost, waylaid on Redhorn Pass by orcs.
Elrond shuddered with the memory of Elladan carrying her limp form into Imladris, her white gown stained in blood, and her eyes filled with pain and despair… an expression that seemed to be reflected in Telperiel's now as well. And you could not heal her, whispered his conscience.
Elrond shut the memory from his mind not wanting to be grieved, not now.
One more trouble would make all the difference, Elrond recalled the conversation he had at Thranduil's table with Gandalf, I would not yet put another burden upon your heart, my friend.
Gandalf had known what was to come. Elrond swallowed then managed a reply to Gloin.
"Middle Earth is changing." said Elrond quietly to Gloin, "No place is safe anymore." Not even my heart, he thought wearily. Gloin nodded slowly beginning to head out.
"That is true, Master Dwarf," Gloin replied, "Thorin would wish to speak with you afterwards if you would join him." Elrond nodded.
"I certainly will," He replied. When he turned to Telperiel he noticed her eyes were distant as she drank from her mug.
"A dragon?" she whispered quietly as if in thought. Elrond sighed. He knew her thoughts and he had a feeling she already knew to where they journeyed. Elrond took her empty plate and her mug from her and leaned forward granting her a gentle kiss on her forehead and he began to sing:
A! Elbereth! Gilthoniel! Silivren penna miriel, o menel aglar melenath na-chaered palan diriel, o galadhremmin Enorath. A! Elbereth! Le linnathon, nef aear, si nef Aearon…
*
"Listen!" Elladan hissed as he notched his arrow. Elrohir and Glorfindel followed in suit as Halbarad and Ingmar clutched the hilt of their swords. Gandalf was also alert looking around the gloaming forest of Angmar warily. The trees were leafless and dark and tall their limbs stretching out like hazardous and threatning knobby hands and the night was dark and cold. As they stepped forward a little more they heard it, drums, orc drums and with it foul voices laughing cruelly and calling out in their own tongue. A red glow flickered ahead of them and fouls shadows danced among it.
"Yrch…" Glorfindel whispered, "Many of them, they are holding some sort of feast ahead of us." Elladan and Elrohir pursed their lips at the thought. They hated orcs after what had happened to their mother many years prior.
"I personally find it distasteful to interrupt orcish merry making." Gandalf said quietly looking ahead cautiously. Ingmar cocked an eyebrow at the wizard.
"Orcs? Merry making? Do those two words even belong in the same sentence?" The old Ranger asked.
"We are on enemy ground," said Halbarad, "It would be best if we found our way around them…" Gandalf looked at them thoughtfully.
"Perhaps there is another way." the wizard said some strange mischief gleaming in his eyes, "I have an idea…"
"Why do I have a feeling I am not going to like this???" asked Ingmar. Glorfindel grinned in spite of their situation.
"No, we are not going to like this… at all."
*
Bhagul laughed out loud as his troupe fought each other for pieces of meat and roasted bird and foud stew of frog that boiled over their fire. They leaped and danced beating on each other, hissing, laughing, hitting their drums in a song that had no apparent melody nor tune. The fire flickered red on his twisted and scarred face and his ruby eyes glittered against the dancing shadows. He sat upon his stone throne a crown of thorns and dead and twisted sticks on his head meddled with random gold trinkets he had stolen.
Here he had claimed himself king, he was the largest of his race in Angmar, and he was the swiftest with a sword.
Then there was a crunch in the darkness beyond them and they all froze, only the sounds of the flames echoing about them. Bhagul turned to his left curiously already unsheathing his black blade and growling lowly. His underlings did the same.
"A riddle! A riddle!" called out a voice from beyond the darkness, and the voice echoes around them. What morgul wanders here now to interrupt our fun? He wondered quietly.
"What riddle?" He called out in his broken common tongue, his voice sounding like the scrape of iron against stone.
"What riddle?" echoed another voice with the first one together.
The other orcs were becoming nervous.
"Who are you?!" demanded Bhagul standing from his throne.
"Who are you!" said now three voice together bouncing from the trees around them. Bhagul growled loudly.
"I am Bhagul, Orc King of Angmar! Show yourself cowards or we shall find you and eat you alive…!" Bhagul announced. The other orcs grinned wildly at the thought.
"I smell man flesh…" hissed Gorga who stood by him.
"A riddle!" called the voice again, "What moves in shadow but is not shadow, and hides in the cloak of night yet does not wear it? What rides like leafless dead autumn wind and of the shadows reeks its prize? "
The orcs all exchanged glances then looked to Bhagul who looked out curiously who took a moment to think it out.
"Nazgul." hissed the orc king.
"Wrong!" came a voice and Bhagul leaped out of the way dodging an elven blade.
"Eldha!" the orc hissed. The other orcs quickly unsheathed their swords and leaped at it. But then another elf came down upon them holding two swords in his hand and then two others with them. His orcs moved violently against the intruders. Bhagul grasped his sword and let out a loud war cry and leaped up against one of the raven haired elves whose grey eyes flashed in anger. Bhagul moved swiftly parrying the other's attacks. The elf moved fast but he missed Bhagul's cunning. The orc king swing around and slashed him on the arm with a poisonous blade.
A voice boomed among them, some words Bhagul did not understand.
Suddenly an orb of great light appeared before the orcs forcing them to flee in terror.
A wizard. The Grey One.
Bhagul looked around him he saw that his pack was losing. Bhagul rolled past the elf and threw a dagger at one of his enemies and it stabbed him square on the shoulder and then Bhagul fleed.
Elves, he wondered curiously moving swiftly, Elves in Angmar?
His lord had to know of this. Something was greatly amiss.
*
"Ingmar!" exclaimed Halbarad as the orcs fleed. The old Ranger pulled the blade from his shoulder with a growl.
"Glorious." Ingmar muttered. Elrohir came up next to him.
"'Tis your luck we brought medicines with us." said Elrohir as he pulled his pack out next to him, "Or you'd be a dead man." Ingmat managed a smile.
"I am getting too old for this," Ingmar said dryly. Halbarad looked at the other in frustration.
"I have been trying to tell you that for the past three years." Halbarad muttered as they began to tend to his wound.
"You do underestand, Gandalf," said Glorfindel, "That the Witch King shall soon know of our presence here?" Gandalf gave a small nod.
"The sooner the better." said Gandalf, In hopes that he is preoccupied with us so Elrond can complete his quest, he thought. Ingmar looked at him warily.
"At least I'm not the only old fool here." He said partly in jest.
Elladan smiled slightly.
"Indeed!" agreed the elf.
*
AN: hmmm… suspense!
*
NOTES: Arano Morgul – literally 'King of the Witches' in Sindarin
Erebor – the Lonely Mountain, from 'The Hobbit'
Vaire – the Valier (f.) of Fate. She weaves the endless Tapestry of Destiny in the Halls of Mandos.
Khzad-Dum – The Dwarven name for Moria.
"Tulien anim, nimloth-nin." – Sindarin for "Come back to me, my white flower."