IV – Counsel

The sounds and smells of the industrial centre of Legolas' fledgling elf-kingdom greeted the party as they entered the largest cavern in Thranduil's halls. A small, slow-flowing tributary meandered in from the docks. A small mill churned the stream. Smiths, carpenters, ropemakers, candlemakers and other labourers cheerfully worked the hours away. There were warehouses against the cavern-walls, some small and privately owned, some large, holding grain or stores of weapons and armour. The group's feet, some dwarven-booted, some elven-shod, and some bare, echoed softly as Legolas pointed out the more interesting happenings around them. A tall figure in a deep, obscuring cowl lingered near one of the smaller warehouses before disappearing behind it.

"The larger storage is reserved for the King and his family, and for the various artisans' guilds," Legolas explained to Dís, ignoring the shadow he had noticed. "The smaller ones are owned by individuals."

"I never would have thought that the cave systems 'ere were this expansive!" Dís commented, pride strengthening her voice. "Yer home is nothing like the Lonely Mountain kingdom, but even so, I see that Mahal has blessed ye."

"That he has," Legolas said, smiling. "As have all the Valar." He is taking Dís' comments well! Gimli thought to himself. I don't know if I would appreciate that thinly-veiled insult! Suddenly a loud, gruff voice met their ears.

"Ye pansy, ye think yerself a smith? Ye can't even hold yer hammer correctly! It's a weapon, not a butterknife!"

A gentler, musical voice returned Lamli's insults. "Dwarf, I have been smithing all my life. My arrowheads and knives cut through spiders and goblins easily enough. I have heard no complaints from the guards."

"Bah! That's because most of ye pointy ears wouldn' know good steel if it pierced ye through the heart!"

"Careful, fool, that sounded like a threat!"

Lamli snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. "Well, at least yer a smart one! Ye can fall back on that once I take over yer job."

The elf narrowed his eyes, hammer still in hand. The air stood still for a moment, as dwarf taunted and elf glowered. Legolas groaned and ran toward the quarrelers.

"Belegol! Lamli! Calm yourselves. What is the problem?"

"Lord, this dwarf threatened my work and my life!"

"Ah, calm yer whinin', elf. I was only bein' honest with ye."

"You called my talents sub-par."

"The truth hurts."

Legolas sighed. "Lamli, adar dithen," he said, evoking a term of utmost honour for a dwarf, "I have no doubt that your skills are wondrous to behold, but Belegol has never failed me. Please, take pity on him."

Before Belegol could object or Lamli gloat, he turned on the elven smith. "You could learn much from this dwarf, Belegol." Legolas leaned in close so only he and the still fuming elf could hear.

"He is miles ahead of your skills. Due to no fault of your own," Legolas added quickly, noting the anger surging again in Belegol's face. "Accept his counsel, please. You will not lose your station, but I need you to work with him. Iesten, angdar nín." Legolas looked straight into Belegol's eyes, pleading now without words. Finally, the fire in the smith's eyes burned out.

"Dwarf, forgive me my foolishness. Your skills are an asset that I should not squander so easily." He held out his hand.

"Ah, elf, I never disliked ye pointy-ears, I jus' love seein' ye get worked up. No harm done." He took the offered hand and shook heartily.

Legolas beamed at the smiths. "Thank you, gentlemen. If there is anything you need, inquire with one of the nobles." He took a ring off of his hand. "Give this and they will know that you have my leave to do as you will." Belegol took the offered jewel. Lamli and he bowed low and resumed a less heated argument.

"Legolas, ye are to be congratulated for your handlin' of that situation. How do ye know how to handle Lamli so well?"

"He reminds me of Gimli when first I met him," Legolas said, smiling fondly at the memory of his old friend. "Who is he, Lady? I seem to recall you speaking of a debt."

Dís' brow furrowed in puzzlement as she related the fiery dwarf's tale. "I am not rightly sure. My da would never give me all the details, and Lamli refuses to talk about it. All I know is that The Stonehelm dismissed some crime from Lamli's person in exchange for his services. I do know that the two were good friends before Lamli's fall from grace.

"He can be well pleasant once ye get to know him and he decides ye are worth respectin'. Ye can rest assure that he won't let Belegol use that ring for his own betterment, much less use it himself."

Legolas nodded. "I figured as such. I just hope that he and my smith will find some common ground."

"Ah, I don't think ye need to worry about that. Any being who uses a smith's hammer is about two notches higher on his chain o' respect."

The group turned a corner into another cavern that served as a forum and a marketplace. Stalactites and stalagmites dotted the cavern's ceiling and floor. Some of the larger stalagmites had been hollowed out and were now in use by various merchants. Two of these dripstones met in the centre of the cavern and formed a large, supportive column. A grand, jewel-covered clock was carved into it.

"See that, Dís? That, I think, is a testament to our feeble elven masonry skills," Legolas said, pointing.

Dís squinted her eyes and strained to see the clock. "Either my eyes aren' too good, or yer clock needs a bigger face!" Legolas laughed.

A young elf-maid nudged passed them, carrying a tall tray of sweet-smelling bread. Sellers hawked their goods, servants shopped for their noble masters' and mistresses' banquets, minstrels played and danced for weary shoppers. Gimli smiled inwardly as he watched the elves go about their daily business. This is why so many have fought and died. This is why we rally to our lords when the time calls us to.

Alora, however, always felt at unease in large groups of people, and her empty stomach begged to be filled. The elves' height did not exactly ease her anxiety, either. "Meleth nín," she said, tugging on one of Legolas' billowing sleeves. Gimli marveled at how innocent she looked doing so.

"Mother! You act like a child! You are not very queenly in your actions."

"Do you think that matters, Gimli?"

Gimli shook his head. "Your lack of care will be the death of you, Mother!"

Alora sighed and turned to her son. "Why do you insist on always being so vochal?"

Gimli grinned. "Because if I am aloof no one will know when they strike a nerve!"

"Yes, well, don't interrupt," she said, rolling her eyes. Turning to Legolas, she said, "Could we stop for a drink and some food soon? You know, there is that wonderful little pub nearby." Alora turned and noticed that the offices of her past etiquette teacher, Ninde, were near. She shuddered in remembrance of that tedious conditioning, done almost a lifetime ago.

"Now, perhaps?"

"I am rather famished, Ada. They even serve dwarven ale there!" Gimli exclaimed, glancing at Dís.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, Legolas?" Dís said, her interest peaked. Legolas nodded and waded through the crowd until they came upon the tavern, a small business owned by Voronwë, an elf once known as Nauraun. His name was appropriate even now, for he held a fiery temper and a boastful tongue. His tavern was well known for its potent beverages and its contests of song.

They were welcomed by the clattering of dishes, the conversations of elves and the sound of an odd, earthy melody wafting from a lute. "Ah, I guess Hakoldef found 'is place!" Dís said approvingly. The seated dwarf was surrounded by young, awestruck elves, who were drinking in every note that poured from the strings of his instrument. He looked up and smiled as the royals walked in. He looked around him and handed his lute to Voronwë's daughter, a girl with soft, grey eyes.

"Take care of that!" he said, taking on a grandfatherly tone. "That used to be part of the great Smaug's horde!" Eduoiin's eyes grew wide as she regarded the instrument.

"Hello, Eduoiin!" Gimli waved, but the elf was too preoccupied with staring holes into the lute to pay Gimli any attention.

"Lady Dís! I'm glad that you stumbled upon this place!" Hakoldef said, running up to her and bowing low. He nodded his head toward the Greenleafs. "They serve dwarven ale here! Iron Hills ale!"

Dís' eyes grew nostalgic. "It has been a long while since I have tasted the brew of our brothers in the east. Legolas, may I?"

"Of course, Lady. Drink your fill and do not worry about price." Dís thanked him and ran off with Hakoldef, who was relating all he had seen that day. Legolas followed shortly behind.

"Well, I am just happy to know that he is not mute!"

"No, just selectively mute."

Gimli laughed and handed Alora a mug. She looked into it and furrowed her nose.

"What do you suppose it is, Alora-mum?"

"Who knows?" she said, and took a deep swig.

Sindarin:

Adar dithen – little father
Iesten – please (I desire)
Angdar nín – my blacksmith
Meleth nín – my love
Nauraun – lit. fire-errant