Lomiothiel: Thank you for your many responses!
Kelly Kragen: Yes, it must be allowed that Gríma in all his manifestations is very clever. Pity that he, like Saruman, allowed his strengths to be twisted into the service of evil. But I think the LOTR implies that this is something that could happen to virtually anyone. Look at the struggle within the souls of Smeagol/Gollum and Boromir. Look at Frodo. And it was a near thing for Bilbo, wasn't it? Galadriel and Gandalf as well: they knew that they may be susceptible to evil, for both rejected the One Ring when it was freely offered to them by Frodo.
Joee: Gandalf, Elrond, and company make it back to Imladris without incident? Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! Gasp! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! Wheeze!
AzureDragoness: If it were possible for you to step into the story and slap Gríma, believe me I would gladly give you my permission.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly the Discerning, of course!
Chapter 27: Converging Paths
Tathar ran his hand lovingly over the polished surface of the table he had crafted for Edwen Nana and then once again cast a critical eye upon its joints. Yes, he decided at last, this would be a worthy gift for the elleth who had been Anomen's foster-mother and well nigh his own mother as well.
"Tathar!"
The artisan turned at hearing the amused voice of Legolas.
"I hope this now meets your exacting standards," said the Prince, "for I fear that if you polish it any more it will be reduced to the thinness of paper!"
"I am sure," replied Tathar jestingly, "that Nana will use it to lay out and measure cloth for the tunics that she is forever sewing for you, and you would not want your garments to be ruined by being snagged upon splinters!"
"The Valar forfend!" rejoined Legolas, laughing. "Polish on!"
"Nay," smiled Tathar. "I have in truth finished this commission. Have you another for me?"
"I do indeed! I commission you—to join me on a journey to Erebor! My father has at long last reluctantly agreed to allow me to venture a little beyond the borders of this land—as long as I stay within the bounds of realms with which we are allied. As the path to Erebor lies entirely within the region controlled by Esgaroth, he has given in to my pleas that I be allowed to visit the Lonely Mountain of the Dwarves. In fact, he is not even insisting that Gilglîr accompany me!"
"That is news indeed!" exclaimed Tathar, impressed.
"Aye! And more: my father has deputized me to complete the trade negotiations initiated by Gilglîr. I am even authorized to sign the final agreement in the stead of the monarch of Greenwood!"
"The King invests great trust in you!"
"He does, but he also urges me to take pleasure in the journey, and so I seek you out as one of my companions. I shall have advisors and guards enough, I know, but I want a co-conspirator!"
"Then Tawarmaenas no doubt goes as well," observed Tathar, grinning.
Legolas looked sad.
"No, the King and his counselors have decreed that Tawarmaenas and I are never to travel outside the realm in company one with the other. If I go, Tawarmaenas must stay; if Tawarmaenas goes, I remain."
"I had thought those restrictions would be relaxed with the others, now your father and Gilglîr are sure all the conspirators are accounted for."
Legolas shook his head.
"That is the one restriction that is not to be lifted, for, as my father declares, one never knows when a new threat may arise, if not from within the kingdom, then from without."
"I suppose there is good sense in what he says," Tathar allowed, "but it is a shame that your cousin cannot go with us."
"Yes, especially as he has been to Erebor once before, in the company of my father, and was eagerly looking forward to returning with me so that he might guide me to the places that most delighted him. However, he has been given leave to accompany us to Lake-town, for that scarce takes him beyond our borders—that's some consolation, at least."
By the turning of the moon, Legolas and his escort were ready to depart the Great Hall. The evening before their departure, Thranduil anxiously paced up and down his private chamber as Gilglîr watched in amusement.
"Really, Thranduil, it is only Erebor!"
"Aye, the Desolation of Smaug!"
"There is little sign of desolation, and Smaug is long gone."
"How do we know there were not any dragon eggs left thereabouts? Even as we speak, a hatchling worm may be slithering about the environs of the Lonely Mountain."
"You are forgetting your Natural History, Thranduil. Smaug was a male dragon."
"Yes, well, perhaps he had a mate."
"Such a spouse could hardly have been hidden."
"Moreover," Thranduil ranted on, ignoring Gilglîr's last words, "I have heard it said that there are neither true males nor true females amongst the dragons, that they are like certain fish and snails and slugs and worms that bear the genitals of both genders. Herm-somethings."
"Hermaphrodites?"
"Aye, hermaphrodites!"
"Even a hermaphrodite," said Gilglîr calmly, "will adopt one gender or the other. It is just that a hermaphrodite is not particular about which gender, either partner being open to the other one, so to speak. I know that Men have a quaint expression in which one Man will direct a second Man to copulate with himself, but I hardly think such an act would be a physical possibility for either Man or dragon, even a hermaphroditic dragon. Therefore, as Smaug had no mate, there could have been no eggs; no eggs, no hatchlings. Erebor is quite safe, and your son likewise."
Gilglîr was quite right in reassuring Thranduil that there could be no dragons anywhere near the Lonely Mountain. He was wrong, however, in concluding that Erebor was thus safe. Dragons had never been the only threat in that region; nor was there anything to prevent new threats, hitherto unimagined, from arising. In truth, even as Thranduil and Gilglîr debated, a malevolent intelligence was considering how best to wreak havoc in the northeastern lands whose peoples had grown complacent since the destruction of the worm Smaug. In the tower of Orthanc, in the fastness of Isengard, Saruman unrolled a map and studied it carefully. Near him hovered Gríma, even more obsequious than usual, as he had already aroused Saruman's wrath by failing to ensnare Gandalf and had no wish to anger the wizard further.
"The Elves of Northern Mirkwood are on guard against threats from the south," mused Saruman, "for danger has all too frequently assailed them from that direction. It would also be futile to attack them from the west, for their border guards perceive all who approach across the plain. No, both the south and the west are too well guarded, and any attack would be beaten back with great ease. An attack from the north or the east, however, would cause greater damage. Those sides are not as well defended, for they feel protected by the presence in those regions of the Men of Esgaroth and the Dwarves of Erebor."
"My Lord," said Gríma, momentarily surprised out of his servility, "to reach Mirkwood, your forces would first have to march through both of those kingdoms. You will have to expend many troops to do so, for the resistance of both Men and Dwarves will be fierce. Moreover, the battle to cross those two kingdoms will take several days, and old Thranduil will receive messages warning him that enemies approach. He will hasten to shift warriors to the north and the east. Even though he will be taken somewhat by surprise, his realm will be by no means unfortified in those directions by the time your army reaches his borders."
Saruman shrugged, unconcerned at the prospect that many of his fighters would die.
"As for the loss of troops, it is of no moment. I can always breed more Orcs and buy more Men. Likewise, it is of no importance that my forces will not take Thranduil totally by surprise, for it is not necessary that they do so. It is not even necessary that they defeat Thranduil altogether."
Gríma was perplexed. Why launch an attack against an enemy you plan neither to surprise nor defeat?
Saruman laughed belittlingly.
"Why should I want to conquer the miserable land of Mirkwood? It contains nothing that I either desire or need. Even its spiders are of no interest to me, for they are too difficult to control, else I would have long ago sought to capture some for my own ends. No, I merely mean to keep Thranduil busy and off balance and to draw the eyes—and mayhap the troops—of Elrond, Galadriel, and Celeborn to his kingdom. For it is in fact a land to the northwest that interests me, and I would have its borders unwatched and undefended."
"A land to the northwest? You mean the Shire."
"Aye, the Shire. A land frequented by one meddlesome wizard, Gandalf the Grey, whom, you will recall, you have not succeeded in delivering docile to my hand."
Saruman glowered at Gríma, and the Man cringed.
"I assure you, my Lord, I did my utmost!"
"Pity. If you had not done your utmost, there might be hope that you could do better next time—but apparently there is not."
"I mean, my Lord," Gríma hastily amended, "I would have done my utmost had I not been prevented!"
"Prevented by whom, I wonder."
Gríma had some suspicions as to who had revealed the conspiracy to Fengel, but he was not about to confess to Saruman that he had been bested by a child—and a girl-child at that. He was sure that if he did, he himself would meet with an 'accident'.
"No doubt that miserable conjurer, having learned much from you during visits to Isengard," said Gríma carefully, "was able to counter my poor skills, being as they are so much inferior to yours."
Entertained by Gríma's shiftiness as a cat is diverted by a mouse's futile efforts to evade it, Saruman pulled his lips back in a simulacrum of a smile, baring his teeth in the process. Gríma, you may be sure, took little comfort from the gesture! But for the time being the wizard was willing to let the matter pass. Gríma was still useful to him.
"I have composed the usual gracious reply to the crude Man who pretends to be King of his rabble of riders. You will of course deliver it with all the customary protestations of my respect and eagerness to serve. Some day I will cast aside this petty alliance when I can replace it with more reliable tools, but for now I must suffer the fool and his servants."
At that last phrase, Saruman looked meaningfully at Gríma, whose apprehension grew all the more. If there were times when Gríma regretted having chosen the path of treachery, no doubt this would have been one such occasion.
"I will prepare to depart at once, my Lord," he said quickly.
Saruman chuckled sourly. "No doubt Fengel's fool is anxious to get safely away from Orthanc," he thought to himself. "Idiot! He should know by now that each day my arm grows longer. The day will come when nothing and no one will be beyond my reach."
Aloud he said nothing, merely handing the whey-faced Gríma the missive and waving his dismissal. Trembling, Gríma backed away as swiftly as he was able and then, once safely out the door, scurried to the Rohirrim's quarters and commanded his escort to immediately saddle their horses. In less than an hour, the Riders were galloping away from the Ring of Isengard, watched from the summit of Orthanc by a morbidly amused Saruman. Once they were out of view, he descended the tower and gave orders for the arming of a great host of Orcs and Men that was to first fall from the north upon Erebor.
Oblivious to the looming attack, Legolas and Tathar were at this very moment preparing to set out on the first stage of their own journey to Erebor. They were to go by boat down the Forest River to Lake-town, where they would stay several weeks. Thence they would be ferried to the northern shore of the Long Lake, from which they would take horses for the ride to the Lonely Mountain. Now Legolas and his father stood o'erlooking the boats as they were laden with supplies and gifts for their hosts.
"Why must we journey by boat, Ada?" asked Legolas, his face perfectly straight. "It would be faster if we were to ride barrels."
"I stand amazed in the face of your cleverness," replied his father, his face equally solemn. Gilglîr, standing nearby, grinned at the exchange. As each day went by, Thranduil and his son bantered more boldly one with the other. Of course, occasionally they would misread each other, but that was only to be expected, separated as they had been for a millennia.
Tathar now appeared, walking by the side of Tawarmaenas, who, good-natured as he was, had quickly recovered from his disappointment at only being allowed to journey as far as Lake-town and was laughing and joking with the carpenter. It also helped that Thranduil had promised that upon Legolas' return Tawarmaenas could ride as messenger—escorted, of course—to Lothlórien to invite Haldir and his brothers for a visit.
Legolas hailed his cousin and his friend as they approached.
"Tawarmaenas, Tathar, I was just saying to my father that barrel-riding would be a better mode of transport. Tathar, have you ever ridden a barrel from here to Esgaroth?"
"No, but I have heard all about your exploits in that regard—although, of course, I did not know that you were the Legolas whose deeds were so celebrated!"
"You see, Ada," Legolas grinned, turning to his father, "my deeds are celebrated! I have a reputation to uphold."
"But you should know," Tathar interjected, "that those celebrated deeds very nearly cost me my braids! Once when I was in Lake-town, helping my father finish a commission, a band of young Elves floated into the Long Lake on barrels. They approached very near the town before they were spotted. Of course, once the Men laid eyes upon them, the alarm was raised, and the chase commenced. The Elves abandoned the barrels and succeeded in swimming to the shore, whence they immediately scattered in all directions. The disappointed Men returned to the town. Later, after I had completed my tasks for the day, I was walking in Lake-town when a Man shouted, 'There goes one! Look! Look! A barrel rider! Catch him!' I ran, but even though I am an Elf, so many gave chase that I was at last cornered by a group of cheering Men brandishing shears. Fortunately for me, the commission had been for the King of Esgaroth, and his son the Prince, attracted by the hubbub, came out to investigate and was able to assure the Men that I had been laboring the entire day in the King's Hall. So instead of losing my braids, I was treated to some very good Dorwinion wine by my disappointed but good-humored hosts!"
The Elves laughed heartily at the story.
"I hope," chuckled Thranduil, "that no one raises a hue and cry upon Legolas' heels, for the Prince will not be able to give him as good a character as he gave you, Tathar. I am afraid he could not vouch for my son without perjuring himself!"
"Ada!" exclaimed Legolas, pretending to be hurt.
"Oh, be off with you, you scamp!" Suddenly Thranduil grew serious. "Now, remember, Legolas, that this will be your first time in charge of an embassy. As Gilglîr is not accompanying you, all the decisions, all the negotiations, are your responsibility. Comport yourself with dignity and wisdom. But above all," he added softly so that only Legolas might hear, "come back safe to me."
"I will, Ada," replied Legolas, now equally serious.
Thranduil gestured toward the boats.
"All is in readiness. Farewell, ion-nîn."
Thranduil kissed Legolas upon the forehead and then stepped back to stand by Gilglîr. Legolas, Tathar, Tawarmaenas and the other members of the company stepped into the boats and cast off. As they paddled swiftly down the river, the excited young Elves and their escort broke into song. Smiling, Gilglîr remained on the bank watching the travelers until the boats vanished around a bend in the river. Thranduil, too, remained watching. There was, however, no smile upon his face, and foreboding clutched at his heart.