Ky: Elrond isn't going to want Anomen anywhere near Rivendell when the Greenwood contingent shows up. (On the other hand, where Elrond wants Anomen to be is not always where Anomen ends up, is it?)
Konzen: First the veiled threats over length; now the veiled threats over pace of posting! EEEEEEEP! Help me! Help me, somebody! (Author scurries into witness protection program & begins churning out heavy-duty crossover slash. Our beloved Elf is last seen hanging upside down in the lair of a vampire as Captain Barbossa approaches with monkey on back. Eeeeeew!) ^_^
Farflung: Yes, the 'burzum' episode did not exactly showcase our Elves' maturity, but, hey, everyone regresses from time to time. Heck, this entire series represents some serious regression on my part. I'm a middle-aged woman with a teenaged daughter, for cryin' out loud! On a serious note, yes, it is Anomen's unique background that inoculates him, so to speak, against being infected by Saruman—plus a little help from Auntie Galadriel, of course.
Jebb: The terrible threesome could still use the guidance of someone like Halbarad, although Elrond's confidence in them is by no means misplaced. As for Erestor, he brings it down on himself half the time.
Joee: Dang, you are two steps ahead. O.K., O.K., Anomen ends up back in the Shire. However, he doesn't get there the way you think he does, and once he gets there something really surprising (and shocking) happens. So there!
Vocabulary
Dagormaenas—'Battle Craft'
Tawarmaenas—'Forest Craft'
Thranduil, Tawarmaenas, and their escort were drawing near to Lake-town.
"The town now flourishes," said Thranduil, "but you will still see some signs of the damage wrought by Smaug the Golden, greatest of dragons."
"The dragon whose death led to the march of the elven army upon the Lonely Mountain," said Tawarmaenas eagerly. He had not yet recovered from his astonishment and delight at how forthcoming his uncle had become. On this journey, Thranduil had talked to him more than during all the long years combined since his arrival at the Great Hall as a frightened elfling. Still, Tawarmaenas did not think he could ever tire of listening to the King's tales of Greenwood and its Elves.
"Yes, although events began several weeks before the felling of Smaug by the archer Bard. We were drawn into the affair when a band of Dwarves attempted to pass through our realm without so much as a by-your-leave! Of course," Thranduil conceded, mellowing a little, "Mithrandir did tell me later that the Dwarves set out with every intention of keeping to the Old Forest Road, which by treaty was to be trod freely by all and sundry. Still, when we captured them, they were most certainly not on the Road! In fact, they had repeatedly interrupted a celebration we were trying to hold in honor of our victory at Dol Guldur."
Tawarmaenas remembered that night—one of the few celebrations that he had ever attended during his stay in Greenwood and those dratted Dwarves had kept leaping into the circle of light! How vexed he had been when the festivities were halted so that the Dwarves could be rounded up and marched back to the Great Hall. Still, the Dwarves had broken the monotony of life in the Hall, no doubt about that. Tawarmaenas had had the fun of creeping into the King's presence chamber so that he could witness Thranduil's interrogation of their unwanted visitors. They had been exotic, those Dwarves—uncouth and ungainly and garbed most strangely. They had beards beyond anything he had seen on the chins of the Men who journeyed from Esgaroth on diplomatic or trading missions. Still, there had been something noble in the bearing of one of them, bedraggled as he was—Thorin Oakenshield his name had been, and Tawarmaenas had felt strangely sorry when he had been told that this Dwarf had died of his wounds in the Battle of the Five Armies.
"Now, these thirteen Dwarves in fact may not have been the only trespassers in our realm," Thranduil was continuing. "We have never been able to account for the Dwarves getting out of their cells. Someone must have unlocked the doors, and it is true that the Dwarves were accompanied by another when they arrived in Lake-town—a creature smaller than a Dwarf, one of the Periannath. Gilglîr is convinced that this Perian somehow crept into the Great Hall and skulked about biding his time until he saw an opportunity to free his confederates. Because of his small size, no doubt he was able to conceal himself. Gilglîr is right of course—there can be no other way to account for matters, I think."
"But you are quite certain of how they escaped the Hall altogether, isn't that true?"
"Aye," said Thranduil grimly, "with the inadvertent help of a drunken butler! The Elves who cast the empty—supposedly empty, that is—casks and barrels into the river all agree that several of the casks were unusually heavy that night, and the river Elves who assembled and poled the rafts say so as well. Those Dwarves floated on their merry way into Lake-town, where the Master, that old fool, welcomed them and gave them the wherewithal to continue their journey. So off to the Lonely Mountain they promenaded, where all they succeeded in doing was riling up old Smaug, who swooped down upon Lake-town and burned it to the ground. Were it not for Bard the Bowman, the dragon would have returned to his mountain, and those Dwarves would have been eaten for his dessert that night. Aye, the worm would have cleaned its teeth with their bones!"
"Then the men of Lake-town went to claim their share of the dragon's hoard, didn't they!?"
"Aye, and rightly so, as one of their own had felled the murderous worm. And, as the Dwarves had not been able to reach the Lonely Mountain without violating our territory, we marched as well to demand recompense."
"But an army of Dwarves appeared unexpectedly to reinforce the adventurers!"
"Yes, but Elves and Men were not about to back down. It looked as if battle amongst the Free Peoples was about to be joined."
"And that," said Tawarmaenas triumphantly, "was when the Perian revealed itself!"
"Himself—they are Free People as well, even if we had hitherto thought them to be no more than figures of legend. Yes, the little fellow had made off with a gem much valued by Thorin Oakenshield, and to recover it the Dwarf conceded a share of the wealth—it was the share that had been promised to the Perian, mind you. That little fellow was small in body but great in spirit, for he was willing to sacrifice his deservéd reward to save the lives of folk who were not even his kin."
"But everything changed of a sudden."
"Aye, an army of Goblins hove into view, and all Free Folk had to set aside their differences to answer this new peril."
"And so began the battle of the Five Armies!"
"Yes," said Thranduil. "And all—Elf, Dwarf, and Man—fought valiantly until the foe had been driven off. When it came to it, our differences were petty, and we remembered what was important. In the gray dawn that followed the battle, the gold and jewels did not seem as shiny, and the treasure was divided fairly without further argument. The Free Peoples should always be quick to remember that more unites them than divides them. Indeed," Thranduil added thoughtfully, "Elven kind should keep that in mind as well. I have been sundered too long from my kindred in Lothlórien—and from those in Imladris even more so!"
By this time they had come within sight of Lake-town. Thranduil had spoken truly, for the pilings of the old town, blackened by fire, could still be seen to the south of the new town that lay higher up upon the shore.
"I have been told," said Thranduil, "that the skeleton of the old worm may still be seen in the clear depths of the water, surrounded by the jewels that fell from his rotting carcass. If you like, I shall ask the Lake-men to row you out to the spot so that you may look upon the wreckage of the beast."
"Oh, yes, uncle," replied Tawarmaenas eagerly. "I should very much like to see the bones of the old dragon."
"Well, then," said Thranduil obligingly, "I shall arrange it."
Tawarmaenas shivered with delight. Dragon bones, the fabled Smaug's no less!
As they spoke, a delegation from Esgaroth was approaching. King and heir dismounted, handing their reins to their escorts, and walked forward to be formally welcomed by the chief Men of the Kingdom of Dale. It was easy to pick out their King, although not because of any sumptuous clothing, for his garments were indistinguishable from those of his subjects. No, it was the confident, dignified bearing of the tall, dark-haired human that marked him as a leader among Men.
"Hail, Thranduil son of Oropher, King of Greenwood," proclaimed this monarch, inclining his head slightly, as befitted one king greeting another.
"Hail, Bard son of Brand, King of Dale," replied Thranduil, likewise inclining his head. "Allow me, if you would, to present to you Tawarmaenas son of Dagormaenas, my nephew and heir to the throne of Greenwood."
"You are welcome here, Tawarmaenas son of Dagormaenas. Allow me to present my son Bain, heir to the throne of Dale."
Ai! It would not be too long before Bain would be forced to ascend to the throne of Dale, for Bard would fall alongside King Dáin II, called Ironfoot, before the gate of Erebor, fighting the forces of the Dark Lord in the North even as others were challenging those forces in the south.
But no one could have guessed at this future on that day of merriment. The Men of Lake-town were anxious to demonstrate their regard for their guests by feasting and entertaining them to the very limits of their wealth and hospitality, for they had never forgotten the compassion shown them by the Elves of Greenwood after their town had been destroyed by Smaug. Many would have died during that grievous time had it not been for the Fair Folk. The Elves had helped the Men build shelters against the bitter cold, and they had quickly and generously sent such provisions as they had on hand to keep the people from starving. Thranduil had faults aplenty, as he himself was beginning to freely acknowledge, but he did not altogether lack empathy; nor had he even during those dark days when he had not yet become reconciled to the supposed death of his son. Indeed, there were even some Dwarves who were later to grudgingly concede that at his hands they had been fed well enough whilst imprisoned in his dungeons—although it took a lot of prodding on the part of a certain wizard to force said Dwarves to make that admission.
A pavilion had been raised upon the shore, and the visitors were escorted to it with much shouting and singing. Once inside, they were seated at the head table and treated to such a feast that even a Hobbit would have been impressed at the abundance of the food and drink that flowed into the pavilion without ceasing. Tawarmaenas was daunted at the sight of so much food and feared he would offend by being unable to eat it all.
"Eat a bite or two of each dish," whispered Thranduil to his nephew. "That's how it's done. Just a bite or two—that's all that's necessary. Then you praise it extravagantly and declare that you are immoderately eager to try the next dish, which will surely be extraordinary, given the food you have already tasted."
Relieved, Tawarmaenas did as he was bidden and was soon being commended for his excellent manners as he graciously sampled each dish that was placed before him, slighting not a one of the cooks who hovered about apprehensive lest their creations be found wanting. Thranduil smiled proudly at his nephew.
"I know I have neglected your upbringing, my son, but one would never know it, for you deport yourself in quite the royal fashion!"
Tawarmaenas returned his uncle's smile. He knew he would never be king, but he appreciated Thranduil's praise nonetheless. Besides, Tawarmaenas thought to himself, as Laiqua's cousin no doubt he would be sent on diplomatic missions from time to time. As such, he would need to carry himself as befits a member of the royal family and a representative of the king. Yes, even knowing that there was no throne in his future, Tawarmaenas could still happily accept Thranduil's compliments.
The next day Thranduil was occupied with trade negotiations. Thranduil explained to Tawarmaenas that, no matter how amiable the relations between allies, it was always best to spell out such matters as how much the tariff was on such and such a vegetable. Indeed, suggested the King, mayhap Dale and Greenwood continued on such good terms because they had always taken care to duly record each and every article of their treaties so that there was no occasion for dispute.
"The Men of Lake-town freely express their gratitude for the aid they received from us in those difficult days after the destruction of their town. However, make no mistake about it, my son: their memories may quickly grow faulty if we should happen to disagree over a tariff. In their minds, the barrels of flour that we sent may dwindle into a few paltry sacks—weevil-ridden, too, no doubt!"
In spite of the fact that Thranduil was preoccupied with matters of trade, he did not forget his promise to his nephew that he would arrange for him to see the skeleton of Smaug. He asked King Bard if he might have the use both of a boat and of a Man skilled in boat-handling. The King graciously assigned to his own son the task of rowing Tawarmaenas to the spot in the lake beneath which lay the bones of the worm.
Bain son of Bard proved to be an excellent companion. He had been a child when the dragon had attacked Lake-town, but one old enough to remember clearly the events of that night.
"Had I not understood the danger, I would have called the sight of the onrushing dragon beautiful, for he glowed like a meteor shooting across the sky. But there was little time for such thoughts. Lads of my age—aye, and lasses, too—were hauling water with buckets, pots, kettles, any vessel that would hold water. Frantically we tried to soak the walls and roofs of our houses. I remember seeing a toddler carrying a goblet, so desperate we were to wet down the dwellings. Alas! It was all for naught, so fiercely burned the fire within that dragon. Even in his death throes he rained fiery destruction upon us, for his body crashed upon the town itself, and all that had survived the first onslaught collapsed then and was consumed in the flames."
Tawarmaenas let out a breath. "How was it that you escaped the destruction?"
"My father perceived that our efforts were unavailing. He ran to where I was casting water upon the wall of our house, seized me, and threw me into the lake. He had only one arrow left at that point. I did not see what happened next, of course, but he later told me that a bird suddenly appeared and alerted him to a gap in Smaug's armor. He watched for this weak point and aimed for it, thus felling the dragon. Some people hereabouts scoff at that claim and say that my father was just lucky, that it was a random shot. I, however, believe him," declared Bain proudly.
Tawarmeanas nodded. "Aye. Your father speaks the truth. It is well known among the Elves that some Men still have the ability to converse with bird and beast. Lesser Men cannot, and unable to understand bird and beast themselves, they assume no one can."
Bain smiled at the Elf. It was good to hear a stranger say those words. He had endured some taunting from the young of his own kind.
"Sometimes," the human confided to the Elf, "I think that I, too, have the gift of understanding bird and beast. I am not yet sure, but on several occasions I have acted upon what I have sensed from a bird or a beast and my choices have always proved to be good ones."
"Then you have inherited your father's greatness, and you may look forward to being a king of reknown."
Bain sighed. "That's an odd phrase: 'look forward to'. It is hard to anticipate becoming king when it means that my father shall have died. Doesn't it trouble you that your uncle must die for you to become king?"
"Sometimes an Elf takes the throne not when the previous king dies but when that monarch decides to abdicate and sail to the Undying Lands. In my case, however," added Tawarmaenas cheerfully, "it does not matter how long Thranduil stays on the throne, for I shall never be king."
Puzzled, Bain stared at him. "But you are Thranduil's heir."
"Yes, but not the only one."
Now Bain was truly confused. "Your pardon, but I had understood that you were the last of his kin."
Tawarmaenas shook his head. "No. There is another. But mayhap it is best that it not be spoken of."
"Aaah." Bain thought that he understood. In these perilous times, Thranduil had wisely chosen to keep a potential heir safely hidden. It was not unheard of for a monarch to do so. Well, he would say nothing more of the matter.
By now Bain had rowed the boat to the site of the old town. He shipped the oars, and they floated, peering over the sides of the boat.
"There." Bain pointed. "Just there."
Tawarmaenas gasped. Smaug had been immense! Now he could well appreciate the terror the people had felt as the flaming dragon had hurtled toward their town. He could also see how, from a certain point of view, the dragon might have been beautiful. The remains of the beast were outlined by the jewels that had fallen from the rotting carcass, gems that no Man dared retrieve, so great was the fear still inspired by the worm. Tawarmaenas could imagine how the fiery beast must have glittered and sparkled as it soared overhead. Curious, he thought, how a thing so evil could at the same time have been so awe-inspiring.
Deep in thought, Tawarmaenas sat quietly as Bain rowed the boat back to shore. The human grew worried at his silence.
"Are you well, Tawarmaenas? Does something trouble you?'
"Yes. No. Well, yes, but no. I am merely musing on how complicated things have turned out. I suppose they will always be complicated."
"I do not understand."
"Oh, you said a while back that it was hard to look forward to being king because it would mean the death of your own father. Sometimes things are all mixed together, the good and the ill, as if you can't have one without the other." Tawarmaenas gave an embarrassed laugh. "I suppose I sound foolish."
Bain shook his head.
"No, that makes perfect sense. Sometimes it seems as if the most dreadful thing in the world has just happened, but then it turns out that if it hadn't happened, something wonderful wouldn't have happened. That's a very tangled thought," the human apologized, "but I couldn't figure out how else to say it."
"You, too, make perfect sense," Tawarmaenas hastened to reassure him. "Lately I have had the oddest dream, and now I begin to understand it. A little figure is toiling, toiling, in great pain and agony, carrying a great burden—and somehow we are all going to benefit from his suffering."
Bain looked at him gravely. "It may be a portent, a vision of things yet to come."
"Yes, I both fear and hope that it is—a vision of both the good and ill so inextricably entangled that the knots binding them can never be undone."
"A beautiful but deadly dragon," said Bain softly.
"Aye. Beautiful but deadly."