Chapter Four: East to the Mountains
The sun was high overhead when the elves and dwarves went their separate ways. The elves had given what extra supplies they could spare to the travellers and bade them farewell. The dwarves had brought along an extra pony for Bilbo to ride, so Mélanyë was riding Shani alone.
They rode through the forest on a path that Elrohir had shown them, that headed north-east. After a few hours they came to the edge of the forest and saw the wide grasslands in front of them. In the distance Mélanyë saw the shadowy peaks of the mountains.
"It will take us only three days to reach them," said Ferar, "It usually takes longer, but it seems our ponies are as anxious to get home as we are!" Indeed, they had been riding at a swift pace, and now that they were in the open, the ponies were free to go faster, sometimes at an outright gallop. They seemed to be enjoying the bright sun and the fresh, cool day.
Ferar, it seems had taken it upon himself to be Mélanyë's minder, whether by his oath to Elrohir, or because she was so young she didn't know. Still, she enjoyed his company on the long ride, as Bilbo spent most of the time riding with Dwalin and the elder dwarves catching up on old times.
"After we cross the plains, we'll be travelling over the High Pass," Ferar continued. "The Beornings are courteous enough, and keep the pass free of wolves and other dangers, but," he lowered his voice a little as if he were telling some big secret, "They are not overly fond of Dwarves." Mélanyë leaned over to him and responded in an equally secretive voice.
"Well perhaps they'll like Elves or Hobbits better!" Ferar erupted in laughter.
"I do doubt that!" he said. "Very few now adays trust the Elves except Elves themselves! And I'm not sure the Beornings have even heard of Hobbits...except of course for old Mr. Bilbo." At the mention of his name, she looked up ahead at her uncle. Even as she watched them, the hobbit and the dwarves around him began laughing heartily at some joke Dwalin had told. Smiling to herself, she thought of how happy she was to be finally going on an adventure of her own. She also knew how lucky she was. Having heard the stories of the long hatred between dwarves and elves, she had quickly realized that she was a minority among them. They didn't seem to notice, however, and had just accepted her as another hobbit, one of Bilbo's kin.
The evenings were quite different than she was used to with the elves. The dwarves liked to catch their dinner each night, and since the Beornings and the Dunedáin usually guarded the northern lands, they felt no fears at building large campfires and singing loudly far into the night.
Bilbo and Mélanyë would spend the evenings together. She would sit by him and listen to the wondrous tales Dwalin would tell about kings and grand halls of stone, and of gold and jewels and the wealth beyond measure that their ancestors had once had. She would listen and watch the fire burning, until before she realized it was asleep on Bilbo's shoulder. Had she been awake, she would have thanked Bilbo for laying her sleeping form in bed each night.
Near the beginning of the fourth day, they came at last to the High Pass. One of the Beornings was there near a small house that seemed to have been built specifically for the guarding of the path. He spotted the travellers as they approached and called out in a cheerful voice.
"Hi! What business, travellers?" He was large and strong. One of the largest people Mélanyë had ever seen. He smiled broadly as they slowed.
"We are travelling over the mountains to the town of Dale and to the Lonely Mountain beyond!" said Dwalin. The guard nodded.
"There is a toll for crossing the mountains here, Master Dwarf, since this path is protected by myself and my kin." He looked at each of them in turn, and looked at last on Bilbo, then at Mélanyë. You are not dwarves!" he said.
"No, indeed!" said Bilbo. "We are Hobbits, from far west of here." Mélanyë felt a smile creep onto her face. A hobbit, she thought, I'm a hobbit...
"Hobbit?" asked the Beorning, and thought for a moment. "Yes, I think I've heard mention of 'Hobbit's before, one of your kin passed this way many years ago, is that right?" Bilbo chuckled.
"Well, far be it for me to know about the doings of all my relatives," Bilbo replied, and she thought she saw him glance quickly in her direction, "But I believe that it is me you are referring to. I visited Beorn many years ago in his house near Carrock, just over the mountains."
"Yes, of course!" the Beorning exclaimed. "We know all about you...and your appetite!" They went on reminiscing for a few moments, then haggled over a price for the toll, which Dwalin thought had been raised considerably, just because they were dwarves. At last the travellers were underway.
The path up the mountains was fairly easy going, since the Beornings had taken to its care in the past years. The top of the pass was blanketed with soft snow and became cold at night. The dwarves kindly lent spare blankets to the two hobbits to keep warm, since despite what Bilbo had said, he really had forgotten about the journey and wasn't at all prepared for a trip over snowy mountains.
They arrived at the other side two days later without incident, and were greeted by another Beorning. He simply wished them well and thanked them for using 'their' passage across the mountains. Mélanyë thought she heard Gloin mutter something about the Beornings being happy to be using 'their' money, and laughed softly to herself.
The next day they set out towards Mirkwood. Ferar told Mélanyë that since the destruction of Smaug and the alliances in the Battle of Five Armies, the wood elves that lived in northern Mirkwood had become friendlier towards dwarves.
"If we're lucky, we'll meet some of them on the way through." Ferar confessed he'd never met an elf before until their meeting in Trollshaw. Mélanyë was eager to arrive in the forest. She was enjoying her journey, of course, but it would be nice to be back among her 'kin', even if they were of a different realm.
Bilbo had begun telling her again of the terrible time they'd had in the Elf King's lands. She reminded him that the elves had believed that the dwarves were attacking them, and Bilbo shrugged. "I'm sure you're right, dear, but that's just how the story goes." He then went on to tell of how they'd eventually become friends with the elves after the battle and so established peace.
They passed over a bridge on the second day, and the forest was now very close. Bilbo had pointed out the spot where the eagles had rescued them from the wolves, and now as they rode by Carrock, he began to tell of their stay with Beorn. He was just getting to the part where Gandalf whistled for Thorin, when Mélanyë halted her pony. Bilbo, not noticing, had rode on a few paces before realizing that his audience had vanished.
"What is it, dear?" he asked as he rode back. In the distance, she saw three black shapes skulking around the path in front of them. One of them looked up and spied the pack of dwarves and hungrily licked its lips.
"Over there...do you see them?" she pointed. Both Bilbo and Ferar exchanged glances.
"See what, dear?"
"Wolves! There are three wolves directly in front of us!" she said. The other dwarves began to murmur and some took out axes. Just then she saw one of the wolves break into a run, heading towards them.
"They're coming!" she cried. The three wolves ran closer and closer until they came into the dwarves' range of sight.
"There they are!" shouted one of the younger dwarves. The wolves charged towards them as fast as they could go, growling at them as they went. Mélanyë trembled on her pony. She'd never been this close to danger before. She remembered the sword and dagger she carried and drew Laspis. It shone a faint green as the sun hit its polished blade. Beside her, Bilbo drew Sting. His elven blade, she saw, was about the same shape and size as her own. The two hobbits stayed behind the dwarves as they met the angry wolves.
The first one never had a chance. It ran swiftly and purposefully towards Dwalin who swung at it with his axe. It fell, skidding to the ground. The other two were smarter and went for the ponies. One of them frightened Nori's pony and he was knocked to the ground. Immediately one of the other dwarves slew the hound, but sadly, Nori's pony was mortally wounded. He was fOrced to ride with Dori for the rest of the trip, much to his annoyance.
The third wolf had skulked around behind the group as the dwarves were concerned with the second wolf. Mélanyë saw it though and she and Bilbo stabbed at it with their swords from where they sat on their ponies. The beast avoided their blows and stayed just out of range of their blades, but close enough to frighten the poor ponies. Ferar rode up behind the wolf and killed it before it could injure any more of their ponies. The battle was over.
It took a great deal to calm all of the ponies so they would go on. Mélanyë/ spoke soothingly to Shani, who was the first to recover from the fright. After several hours, they were finally underway again and nearing the western edge of Mirkwood.
When they entered, they soon found a path that seemed to cross the forest in a straight line, but it led further south than they intended to go. Not too far in they began to hear strange sounds, like voices.
"What is that...do you hear that?" Ferar asked Mélanyë. She was listening intently.
"Yes...they are elves' voices," she said. "They see us and are wondering where we are going."
"Well," Ferar said, and she thought he looked a little anxious, "You can tell them we're just passing through on our way to Dale." She did. Ferar looked at her with dismay. He obviously hadn't expected her to actually do that.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, an elf appeared directly in their path. If the ponies hadn't seen him, they probably would have run into him.
"Welcome, travellers!" he said. "I am Cóume. I hear that you are heading to the town of Dale." The dwarves, after recovering from the shock of the elf's surprise appearance, each nodded their agreement. Cóume scanned the group with his bright eyes. They rested on Mélanyë.
"Ah! You must belong to the sweet voice we heard answer us through the trees." She felt herself blush at his words. He again addressed the dwarves. "Night will come soon. Perhaps you would enjoy an evening in the King's hall? He would be glad to offer you shelter." At once the dwarves heartily accepted the kind offer and were soon being led through the forest towards the realm of Thranduil, King of Northern Mirkwood.