My thanks to the following for their comments and encouragement: Dragonfly, Lomiothiel, Joee, Kelly Kragen, Grumpy, and Rae132.
Beta Reader: Once again, Dragonfly, who suggested no fewer than six improvements and suggestions!
Chapter 29: The Cradle Will Fall
The next morning Glóin and his son Gimli departed from Lake-town, for they were on their way to the southeast to check out a rumor that a new vein of gold had been discovered in those parts. Legolas and his friends, however, for many days remained in Lake-town, where they were very well entertained by King Bain and his son Brand, although Legolas did not allow the feasting to dull his wits. He was able to conclude a trade agreement on grounds very favorable to the Elves, yet without provoking the ire of the Men who sat opposite him at the table. No doubt the time he had spent in Estel's company aided Legolas in this matter, for Estel could be very cagy, and Legolas had had to develop slyness in return.
During their free time, Legolas, Tathar, and Tawarmaenas roamed the streets of Lake-town in the company of Tathar's friends, who introduced them to many other merry Men, so that the evenings were always full of song, dance, and all manner of jollity, as long as it was seemly and did not break the King's peace. The only pleasure in which Legolas refused to participate was a boat ride by torchlight to the site in the lake below which lay the bones of the great worm Smaug. Legolas shuddered when this was suggested to him, for he remembered the last time he had come near that bejeweled carcass.
"Nay," he exclaimed vehemently, "I will not venture near that accursed place, for very nearly I left my own bones strewn amongst those of the worm. You are welcome to go, Tathar and Tawarmaenas, but I will remain behind and find some other means of amusing myself."
So it was that he was sitting motionless, at the edge of a dock but hidden by several crates, when a lone man, heavily cloaked so that his face was hidden, paddled up to the landing. As he secured his boat, another man, similarly cloaked, approached him on foot.
"Is all well?" asked the first Man.
"Aye," replied the second. "In Esgaroth there is no thought of war. Swords grow rusty, leather scabbards crack, and paint peels from shields. The Men give only thought to feasting and drinking and grow as fat as Dwarves sitting contentedly upon heaps of gold and silver! They will fight, no doubt, but not effectually. In the absence of Smaug, they have grown complacent."
"Excellent! Excellent!" gloated the first Man. "I shall bring word to my master. As for myself, I have discovered that the Dwarves are equally unprepared. They grow as fat as, well, as fat as Dwarves sitting contentedly upon heaps of gold and silver!"
Both Men cackled at his wit.
"Oh, that's rich," chortled his companion.
"Aye," agreed the first Man, "so to speak!"
More ill-natured laughter. Then the second Man resumed speaking.
"I have a little bit of extra news that shall rejoice our master. The Prince of Mirkwood has been in Lake-town these past several weeks. I had thought to assassinate him, but he and his party plan to journey on to the Lonely Mountain only a few days hence."
"Oh ho!" exclaimed his companion with wicked glee. "He will be in Erebor when the blow falls. I am glad you did not murder him, for it would not have pleased our master. If the Prince can be taken alive, he will be a useful bargaining chip. Indeed, his capture may make it unnecessary for our troops to invade Mirkwood. We will sweep through Erebor and Esgaroth and so come to the border of Mirkwood. Then we shall produce the Prince. Old Thranduil will order his warriors to lay down their arms, for 'tis said by all that he dotes upon the Prince as no father has ever doted upon son."
Had the circumstances been different, Legolas would have been delighted at hearing such testimony to the love his father bore him. As it was, he was putting all his energy into remaining absolutely still, for he had left his weapons at the inn. As quiet as Elves can be, he still hardly dared breathe, lest even the slightest of respirations draw the attention of the spies. He was quite faint by the time the first Man had cast off and paddled away and the second Man had slipped back into the shadows. Then, ever so cautiously, keeping to the shadows himself, Legolas made his way to the King's Hall and craved admission, even though the hour was late, so late, in fact, that Legolas was ushered into the King's private chamber, where he found King Bain in his nightdress. This suited Legolas, however, for no servants or counselors were in attendance, and he was loath to speak before anyone but the King. He had seen the face of neither conspirator and feared lest the Man be hidden within the household of King Bain himself.
"My Lord," began Legolas, not bothering with the formalities of apologizing for the late hour, "there are traitors in your realm, one of them within Lake-town itself." Quickly he recounted the conversation he had overheard. When he was finished, the King, famed for his courage and decisiveness, demonstrated his mettle. Without hesitation, he led Legolas through the conversation again, probing for any clue, any hint as to the identity of the spies. When his efforts failed, he at once turned toward planning how to deal with the threat to the three kingdoms.
"I must put my soldiers in readiness," he mused, "but I wish to do so without tipping my hand, for I still have hopes of discovering the spies, as well as the identity of their master. How am I to accomplish this?"
"Our trade negotiations have just concluded, and successfully," Legolas pointed out. "In the past it has often been the custom to hold games between the two parties at the successful conclusion of an embassy. Before my company departs for Erebor, let it be known that we will shortly return, and that other Elves will be arriving from Greenwood straightaway, in order to participate in such games. You may further let it be known that you wish your soldiers and young Men to prepare to defend the honor of Esgaroth in swordsmanship, archery, and horsemanship. Your people will throw themselves into preparations with great enthusiasm, and it is to be hoped that the suspicions of our enemies will not be aroused."
"You are wise for one so young," said King Bain.
Legolas accepted the compliment graciously, but inwardly he smiled at the irony. To Men, he looked scarcely older than an adolescent youth, but he was in fact a millennium older than the King.
"My fellow monarchs must of course be told," the King continued. "Will you yourself take the news to your father?"
"No," replied Legolas. "Tawarmaenas is to return to the Great Hall when I journey on to Erebor. He will carry word to King Thranduil."
"Your father will not like that," the King pointed out. "He will want you by his side." Bain knew, as did everyone else, of Thranduil's love for his son.
"True," conceded Legolas, "but it is generally known that I intend to journey on to the Lonely Mountain to negotiate an agreement with the Dwarves of Erebor. If this longstanding plan were to be altered, it might arouse suspicion. Moreover, news of the threat must be carried to King Dáin. It cannot be carried by one of your Men, for we have no way of knowing which one is the traitor. I will carry it myself."
King Bain agreed to this plan reluctantly, for he knew that Thranduil would have some harsh words for him when next they met.
Legolas and the King talked some time further, and then Legolas prepared to take his leave. Bain stayed him, however, when he would have gone.
"You must allow me to arrange to have my son and some of his friends escort you to your inn. Such an escort would attract no notice, for it will merely be assumed that you have been out late carousing with him."
"If it would not be too much trouble, I would in truth be glad of an escort. I should not like to encounter the spy alone and unarmed!"
It proved to be easy enough to arrange for Prince Brand to accompany Legolas. Brand had not yet turned in and was, yes, carousing. Legolas shared a few drinks with him and his boon-companions, and then the young Men willingly agreed to walk—or in the case of some, stagger—with him to his lodging. Almost as soon as they set foot outside the King's Hall, Prince Brand drew the attention of the watch for singing rather too loudly. So in the end Legolas was very well attended indeed, both by the roisterers and by the guards who marched alongside them, indignantly shushing Prince Brand the entire way. Thus Legolas arrived safely at the inn, there to be met by Tathar and Tawarmaenas, who were at that moment anxiously issuing forth in search of him.
"Here we were worrying about you," scolded Tawarmaenas with a grin, "but I see from the state of your companions"—Brand was giggling and hiccoughing—"that we ought to have spared ourselves the concern!"
Legolas grinned back at his cousin, but his heart was not in it. He knew he could tell Tawarmaenas nothing about what had transpired, for if he did, his cousin would not hear of his going on to Erebor. He would have to put it all down in a letter whose seal was only to be broken by King Thranduil himself. As for Tathar, he also meant to tell him nothing, and he began to think of excuses for sending the artisan back to the Great Hall. "He has been trained not as a warrior but as a carpenter," Legolas thought to himself, "and I cannot lead him into danger! I must find some reason for Tathar to accompany Tawarmaenas back to Mirkwood."
The next morning he broached the subject with his friend.
"We have been entertained quite well by the Men of Esgaroth," he began.
"Very well indeed," agreed Tathar enthusiastically.
"I am afraid," Legolas said regretfully, "that we cannot expect such generous hospitality at the hands of the Dwarves."
"Oh, but we can!" Tathar assured him. "The Men hereabouts say that it is a matter of honor amongst Dwarves to treat each guest in a kingly fashion—even if the guest is, in point of fact, not a king. We may therefore look forward to red meat on the bone washed down with copious quantities of ale!"
"That may be true as a general rule," replied Legolas, "but there has been bad blood between Greenwood and the Lonely Mountain. I would not have you drawn into the dispute and treated unkindly as a result. Therefore, you should accompany Tawarmaenas back to the Great Hall."
A heavy and lengthy silence ensued, and Legolas thought despairingly that he had hurt the feelings of his friend and perhaps alienated him irretrievably. But when Tathar at last spoke there was no resentment in his voice.
"Legolas, once, long ago, I knew nothing and could do nothing when you were dragged away from the clearing to be subject to ill-use at the hands of your father—no! do not protest! It is well known that your father, for all his kindness to you now, for a time treated you very badly. Now, however, I am an Elf full-grown, and I will not stand by helplessly whilst you journey toward danger."
Legolas stared at him with mouth gaping, a very unelflike expression. "But-but-how did you know?" he stammered.
"Legolas, since you returned to the inn last night, you have thrice checked the fletching on your arrows and have examined the points an equal number of times. You have sharpened the blades of your knives as well as that of your sword, and you have strung and repeatedly tested your bow. When I am about to begin a commission, I examine and prepare my tools. You are a warrior. Before you go into battle, you examine and prepare your weapons, do you not?"
"You are right," Legolas admitted unhappily. "I journey toward battle. That is why you must return to the Great Hall. You are a carpenter, not a warrior, and must not follow me into this conflict."
"Aye, I am a carpenter," agreed Tathar, "and I can wield an axe in such a fashion as would put some Dwarves to shame! No tree can withstand me; no, nor any Orc neither!"
Legolas smiled.
"You are forgetting, Tathar, that the trees do not dodge your blows. Nor do they swing back! Nay, my friend, you must go back to the Great Hall."
"If you want me to return there, you shall have to send me home tied in a sack!" exclaimed Tathar defiantly. "For otherwise I shall follow you!"
"Clearly you have spent too much time in the vicinity of Dwarves," muttered Legolas in frustration. "For surely you are as obstinate and mulish as one of those thick-headed, obdurate, and unyielding creatures."
"That's right," chuckled Tathar. "Also stubborn and stiff-necked—do not forget those epithets for a Dwarf. But as I am so unbending, you have no alternative but to make allowances for that fact."
"I like not your logic," grumbled Legolas.
"You may not like it," retorted Tathar, "but it is undeniable: I have proved to be the inflexible one, so you are the one who must show yourself to be reasonable."
"It would be reasonable," Legolas pointed out, "to force you to go home."
Tathar grinned in his face.
"You might as well accept it. I'm going with you, laddie."
Legolas made a wry face, but then he smiled fondly at his loyal friend. Truth be told, he was glad to have been outfaced by the carpenter. With only a slight show of reluctance, he explained matters to Tathar, what had transpired and what was to come.
"I think," Tathar said wisely, "that as this conflict will involve Dwarves, it would be wise to travel in their company and so develop if not their friendship, then at least their trust. Moreover, if our enemies are about to strike, it is better to be in a larger group than a smaller. A party of Dwarves will set out for the Lonely Mountain in a few days time. Let our departure be timed so that we set out with them. They may look at us askance, but they will not be so discourteous as to reject our company, especially as you are the Prince of Greenwood and it is known that you travel as ambassador to King Dáin."
Legolas looked at Tathar with increased respect.
"You are both a carpenter and a diplomat, my friend!"
"All artisans must be diplomats," Tathar joked, "for they must fashion not only their wares but also their relationships with their patrons. Moreover, I have spent many hours inconspicuously mending and sanding furniture in the presence chamber whilst the King and his counselors have debated matters of state. I have never intended to eavesdrop, but, will I or no, I cannot help but hear! And if I hear, I learn."
"I think," mused Legolas, "that when the time comes for me to constitute my own council, you shall sit upon one of the chairs you have crafted."
"I shall serve you in any capacity I may," Tathar replied simply, "whether it be the shaping of policy or of a table leg."
"Well said," exclaimed Legolas, clapping his friend upon the shoulder, "and it is straightforward speech such as that which I shall need to hear when I am King. But, come, let us put your plan in motion. Our company must be ready to depart whensoe'er the Dwarves set out."
It was as Tathar had predicted. There was some muttering, and sidelong glances were cast when the Elves boldly walked into the midst of the Dwarves on the day of their departure, but no one ventured to publicly voice any objections. Indeed, a few of the Dwarves had kin who had once, in company with Gandalf, been hosted by Lord Elrond in Rivendell, and they at least condescended to nod gruff greetings toward the Elves. Knowing what was at stake, Legolas pushed aside his antipathy toward Dwarves and, once the boatmen had set them down on the northern shore of the lake and they were mounted, he made a point of riding alongside the friendlier Dwarves and making conversation with them. Before too long, these Dwarves were looking upon him with some respect. "He is indeed a Prince among Elves, so to speak," they muttered amongst themselves, and only a little grudgingly.
As they rode, Legolas had insisted on sending ahead scouts, even though he was mocked by the Dwarves for doing so. "This is Erebor," the Dwarves scoffed, "land of both the Dwarves and the Men of Dale. What is there to fear?" But when Legolas persisted in sending out scouts, the Dwarves grew suspicious and demanded that each elven scout be accompanied by a dwarven one. Since the dwarven scouts on their ponies could not keep up with the elven scouts on their horses, this resulted in each elf riding with a dwarf clinging tightly to his waist. Legolas was devoutly grateful that he himself was not serving as a scout. How he would have hated to have a Dwarf hanging on to him!
As it turned out, the Dwarves were to be more than encumbrances on horseback; they also would turn out to be very poor scouts, ill-versed as they were in the ways of seeing without being seen. As the company neared the Lonely Mountain, they began to come across abandoned and burned out cottages. Not a single Man of Dale was out in the fields harvesting; nor a single Dwarf did they encounter driving a wagon full of goods for trade. The Dwarves were very uneasy now, and Dwarves and Elves gathered in a circle to decide what to do.
"My Elves are trained scouts," said Legolas. "Some should go ahead and reconnoiter the Mountain. The rest of them should remain here, as should all the Dwarves."
"It is our land and our people that may be in peril," retorted a Dwarf indignantly. "It would be dishonorable to leave their defense to Elves!"
Patiently Legolas replied.
"I am not asking you to leave the defense of friends and kin to strangers. I merely ask that you allow us to gather information as to the enemy that awaits us—for surely this land is under siege. My scouts will bring back news as to their number and disposition, and then together we will decide what is best to be done."
But the Dwarves were not to be mollified, and as before each Elf was to be accompanied by a Dwarf. Two by two the 'scouts' went forth on foot—horses would be a hindrance now—and sought to slip as near to the Lonely Mountain as was possible without being spotted by their foes. As I have said, however, the Dwarves were no scouts, having devoted their lives to mining, smithing, and trading. The lead pair of 'scouts' reached a vantage point whence they could overlook the mountain, and from there they saw an immense army of Orcs encamped all about the Mountain, with their numbers especially great before the gates of the Dwarves' erstwhile stronghold. At the sight of this goblin host, the Dwarf half of this pair let out a loud and anguished squeak, rather a surprisingly high-pitched noise for a Dwarf, actually, and this sound was overheard by nearby Orc sentries, who at once raised the alarm.
"Spies! Spies!" howled an Orc who went running to the captain of the host. "An Elf and a Dwarf!"
"Oh ho! A conspiracy, eh," snarled the captain. "The pointy ears are making nice with the earth-grubbers. Must mean that we got their precious pointy-eared princeling trapped in that heap o' dirt. But the jig is up. We'll after 'em, boys!"
With the better part of the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale pinned helpless within the Lonely Mountain, the Orc captain confidently dispatched a considerable portion of his force to go after what he believed to be an approaching alliance sent for the purpose of raising the siege. "They'll never get near this mountain," he sneered. "We'll cut 'em to ribbons. Aye, and when we raise the heads and the shreds upon spears before the eyes of the Dwarves in that mountain, they'll hasten to offer terms—but the only terms we'll accept will be un-con-dee-shun-ul surrender, that's wot! Aye, surrender, and the princeling, wot will be well-entertained by the master, I am sure." Here the captain emitted a most unpleasant sound that was a cross between a snarl and giggle, a sort of malevolent gargle, if you will. Then he went on spinning his unpleasant plans for the future of the Dwarves of Erebor and the elven prince whom they supposedly harbored within the Mountain.
"We'll set the earth-grubbers to mining gold and silver for the master, we will. And lashes for those wot don't meet the master's quota! Of course," he ruminated, "no doubt there'll be treasure enow set aside for the master's servants, say, those wot been great captains wot have got their hands on prisoners like pointy-eared princelings. Yesss, yesss," he cackled, rubbing his hands in anticipation of his reward, "I must get aholt o' that pointy-ear." The Orc grew a little anxious. "Must remember to tell the boys not to play wi' any elves wot come out o' that mountain. Master wants him 'alive and unspoiled'—that were the messenger's very words." It did not occur to him that the Elf whom he sought was in fact on the outside of the mountain rather than trapped within.
Meanwhile, pursued by Orcs, the scouts had been racing back to where the rest of the company waited, including of course, the 'pointy-eared princeling'. "Prince Legolas," cried the lead Elf as they reached the company, "A host of Orcs surrounds the Mountain on every side. And," he added, casting a disdainful look at his shamefaced dwarven companion, "they know we are here and are pursuing us."
Legolas swore several most unelvenly oaths that were so colorful that his stock at once rose mightily in the estimation of the Dwarves. That, and the fact that some of the Dwarves had already softened toward him, as well as the fact that he was the highest ranked member of the company and the only one who had extensive military experience, caused all eyes, Dwarf and Elf alike, to look toward him for leadership. Legolas wasted no time in assuming the mantle.
"Let us take the high ground," he declared, pointing at a hill whose summit was heavily wooded. "That knoll over yonder. Make for it. We shall take shelter behind the trees upon the crown. The slopes are bare, so that anyone who tries to mount the hill will be at the mercy of our archers. That at least will slow their progress, if not hold them off altogether."
Driving the horses and ponies before them, the Elves and Dwarfs hastily ascended the hill and disappeared behind the trees at its top. The Orc sentries were hard on their heels, however, and their position was descried. Soon the Orcs had surrounded the hill, swarming all about the base, beating their spears against the ground, taunting and jeering. The Orcs were in no hurry to move against them. In a situation such as this, with their quarry seemingly hopelessly trapped, Orcs preferred to take their time and so squeeze out all the entertainment value that could be gotten from slowly grinding down their foes before indulging in one final frenzy of butchery.
But the Elves and the Dwarves were by no mean in as hopeless a position as the Orcs believed. It was now that an axe wielder of a different ilk from the usual was about to come into his own, and with remarkable results. For on the summit of the hill, Tathar eyed the trees that were all about them. "Loan me one of your axes," he said to a Dwarf. Reluctantly, the Dwarf handed it over. Tathar hefted it appreciatively and then began to hack away at the base of a tree.
"Here now!" roared the Dwarf. "That's for hewing Orc necks. You'll dull it chopping wood!"
"And if I do, you can sharpen it again," retorted Tathar. "Your effort will be well rewarded, for by felling this tree, I shall create such a device as shall lay waste to more Orcs than you could fell with a hundred strokes of the axe alone. You have several more axes about your person; I suggest you pretend that this stand of trees is a band of Orcs and bring down each and every one of them."
Tathar spoke with such conviction that, after only a moment's hesitation, the Dwarf strode to a tree and began to strike at it with such skill and strength that it soon came crashing to the ground. Inspired by his example, the other Dwarves entrusted their spare axes to the remaining Elves, and soon, side by side, Dwarf and Elf were felling trees with abandon.
In the valley, the Orcs heard the sound of ringing axes.
"Cuttin' down trees, I should think," observed one of the Orcs to the leader of the band of goblins. "Prob'ly mean ter build a fort. Oughtn't we ter try an' stop 'em?"
"No," sneered the leader. "Let 'em wear themselves out hewing wood. They'll have the less strength to hack at us when the time comes to slaughter 'em. There cain't be too many of them on that little hill, and there are many of us, so we will have no trouble getting' over their pitiful barricade."
Throughout the day the Elves and Dwarves on top of the hill chopped down trees while the Orcs in the valley laughed at what they believed to be their futile labor. Meanwhile, Tathar hastened from side to side of the summit, at each point directing the erection of a sort of cradle into which the logs were laid at right angles to the slope. At last the hilltop was completely cleared of trees, all the trunks now resting in the cradles. As the sun sank and dusk came on, the Elves joined the horses and ponies within the center of their 'fortification' and waited. As for the Dwarves, Tathar had divided them up so that there were at least a few stationed at each end of every cradle.
It grew darker, and torches were kindled in the valley. The torches began to move up the slopes of the hill. The Elves bent their bows but held their fire, waiting for a command from Legolas. A light arced from the valley, and a flaming arrow struck one of the logs. A young Dwarf cried in panic, "They shall burn down the fortification!" He was shushed by an older and wiser Dwarf. More arrows fell upon the cradled wood, setting additional logs on fire. Tathar grinned. "They light the fire of their own destruction," he said sardonically. "And," he added softly, "they shall save us the trouble of kindling a funeral pyre for their carcasses."
Whooping and snarling, the Orcs swarmed steadily up the slopes, coming at the Elves and Dwarves from all sides, but no one made any move to stop them. When Tathar judged that all the Orcs must be on the hill, with none left in the valley, he at last gave the signal. "Now, my friends!" he shouted. "To your axes!"
With a will, the Dwarves wielded their axes, but they did not hew Orc necks. Instead, they hacked at the uprights that held together the cradles. As the uprights were smashed, the cradles groaned and then collapsed—and log after flaming log rolled free, tumbling faster and faster down the slope and crushing and burning anything in its path.
Now Legolas gave a signal to his archers, and the Elves marched forward, releasing arrow after arrow, bringing down the Orcs who had escaped being crushed and burned by the trees. At last only a few Orcs remained alive, and those were scrambling away as fast as they were able. Legolas commanded his archers to hold their fire. "Allow that handful to escape," he ordered shrewdly, "for they shall scurry back to their fellows and sow panic amongst them with tales of how their large army was devastated by a joint force of Elves and Dwarves. Let us make haste to follow in their wake to take advantage of the fear and confusion that result!"
The Elves vaulted onto their horses, and the Dwarves scrambled up behind them. This time even Legolas bore a Dwarf behind him, and so intent was he upon the battle that he scarcely noticed the burden. The allies allowed the surviving Orcs to reach the goblin lines and then, as the shouts of terror and panic arose, the Elves urged their horses into a gallop. Thundering toward their enemies, the allies were astonished and gratified to see the Orc lines break entirely. This was more than even Legolas had hoped for! Moreover, the besieged Dwarves, their lookouts having seen the approaching 'relief column' and the resulting chaos amongst their foes, now flung open the gates of the Lonely Mountain and they and their allies, the Men of Dale, poured forth to join the battle. Witless with dread, bewildered Orcs ran hither and thither like termites whose queen had been plucked from their mound. It was an easy matter to bring them down. The Dwarves and Men from the Lonely Mountain, joined by the Dwarves who now dismounted from elven horses, stalked their prey on foot, and the Elves rode after any of the faster fugitives who seemed likely to escape the field of battle altogether. Not one Orc is known to have escaped the catastrophe, and no ally, neither Elf nor Dwarf nor Man, fell that day, although several were known to have been injured.
Among these latter was Tathar who, in close combat, had discovered that, yes, Orcs, unlike trees, do swing back. His opponent's blow had been deflected somewhat, but Tathar had still been left with a broken arm. Now Legolas knelt before him anxiously, demanding that Tathar allow him to dress his arm.
"Legolas, 'tis only a broken arm, and not so different from the injury I suffered when I miscalculated an angle whilst cutting a tree so that the tree fell upon me instead of away from me."
"Yes, but once that tree had fallen, I wager it did not get up and strike you again, as that Orc tried to do!"
Tathar laughed. "True. A fallen tree is a felled tree."
Legolas groaned. "Oooh, such a cutting wit."
"Of course! Who else but a carpenter should have a cutting wit—or be a cutting wit, for that matter?"
"You bend words to your will at least as well as you bend staves!"
"Of course, for is not a stave as much as to say a line of poetry, that is, words?"
Legolas raised his hands into the air.
"I yield! I yield! I will go find someone else needs binding, preferably a Dwarf who will, by definition, be a smaller wit than you are."
"A hit! A hit! A palpable hit!" Tathar shouted cheerfully after his friend's retreating figure. At that moment, he saw a Dwarf of distinguished appearance approaching, and, rightly guessing that it was King Dáin, he struggled to his feet. The King spoke to him before he could speak, however.
"Master Elf, you have been pointed out to me as one of two Elves to whom we owe this victory. It is said that you are a great warrior."
Tathar bowed.
"I thank you, my Lord, but I am in fact no warrior at all."
"Surely such an assertion is gainsaid by the Orc bodies that I am told lie smoldering upon a hill hard by this place."
"Those bodies only prove that I am an excellent carpenter, my Lord."
"Carpenter!?"
"Aye, a carpenter, my Lord."
"But my people say that you wield an axe in such a fashion as would put some Dwarves to shame!"
Tathar could not help but grin at hearing these words in the mouth of the King Under The Mountain.
"My Lord, I beg that you tell Prince Legolas what you have just said."
"That is the least of the rewards you shall receive from me, Master Elf. I hope you have a sturdy packhorse, for it shall be laden with gold! But you mention Prince Legolas. He is the other Elf to whom I am indebted. Where may I find him?"
"He is somewhere hereabouts tending to the wounded."
King Dáin regarded him gravely.
"Ah, a true commander he is, for once the victory has been secured, he looks first to his soldiers. He was journeying to this land in order to conclude trade negotiations, was he not?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"He shall have generous terms. Tell him I say that."
"Such words will certainly deprive the negotiations of much of their interest, my Lord. Are you sure you want me to tell him this?"
"On this occasion I do not mind revealing my hand to Prince Legolas, for the only thing I wish to grasp in it is his own hand in friendship."
Tathar bowed.
"You are very gracious, my Lord."
"And you as well, Master Elf."
"Carpenter."
"Your pardon?"
"I am a Master Carpenter."
King Dáin laughed.
"Very well, Master Carpenter, although I do not know whether to commission you to cut trees or hew Orcs!"
"Whatever needs felling, my Lord."
The King smiled and moved on. It is said that in after years not a stick of furniture stood in the King's presence chamber unless it were crafted by Tathar, Master Carpenter of the Kingdom of Greenwood, or one of his descendants. And long after the last Elf had sailed from the Grey Havens, in the west there was no greater praise that could be bestowed upon something fashioned in wood than to say, 'hewn like one o' Tathar's Orcs, that is'!