Chapter Six: The Merry Town of Dale
The next morning Mélanyë woke in one of the small alcoves in the room the elves had given to them. The smell of flowers and the warm sunlight streaming in from a high window greeted her as she opened her eyes. In the back of her mind she could still hear strains of music from the night before and rolled over, hugging her pillow as if physically clinging to the memory. There was no drifting off for her, however, as Bilbo sat on the edge of her bed and had seen her eyes open.
"It's time to wake up, my dear!" he said cheerfully. She opened her eyes slowly and saw the hobbit bending over her. "You slept longer than any of us!" Finally admitting that sleep had left her, she yawned and stretched.
"What is the time?"
"It's almost midday. You've missed both breakfasts!" She sat up and saw that they were alone.
"Where are the dwarves?" she asked, looking past him to the empty room.
"They're all getting ready to leave," he said. "Dwalin wants to reach Dale by dinner time." She nodded, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
"Oh, Bilbo! I had the most wonderful dream!" she said. "I was floating in the sea looking up at the stars, and they were all dancing together with the music that was floating on the water. Then I was up with the stars, and I looked down and saw a beautiful city of silver and shining gems. It was so beautiful!" Bilbo smiled and stroked her cheek with his hand.
"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tonight to dance again with the stars. The dwarves are waiting for us to join them for lunch." He left her then, still lost in the memory of her dream. Shaking it off, she got up and dressed.
When at last she and Bilbo found the dwarves, lunch had already started. She found Ferar and sat next to him, with Bilbo on her other side.
"You'd better hurry up and have some lunch," he said, "they're talking about leaving soon." Her and Bilbo helped themselves to the spread of bread, butter, honey, cheese and fruits that was laid out before them. Mélanyë felt like she hadn't eaten in weeks, and found herself eating more like a hobbit than an elf.
After lunch was over with, the dwarves made ready to depart from the woods. As they were finishing the final packing, Liofa found Mélanyë. She bowed low and blushed, feeling honored that he would be looking for her.
"The tales do not do justice to your music, Liofa," she said. He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I am glad you enjoyed it." He then looked thoughtfully into her eyes, and it seemed to her his smile faltered, but so quickly that she doubted she'd seen it. "It may be that you will face troubling times ahead. If you find yourself in despair, think of my song. It is said that music heals all wounds." She didn't quite understand his words, and indeed would not for many years, but she bowed politely and left to finish packing.
The company bade farewell to Thranduil and his people, and again headed east, this time in the proper direction towards Dale. After travelling most of the day along the Forest River they came upon the old town of Esgaroth. The lake town had been abandoned after the death of Smaug, and none of the dwarves would dare spend the night near the ruins. They plodded on along the River Running until at last they were far enough away that they could camp for the night. Dwalin was unhappy they hadn't reached Dale, but content that they were at least within sight of it.
Thranduil had supplied the dwarves with fresh bread, fruit and cheese, so they had as merry a dinner as they could have on the elves' food. Mélanyë was exceedingly grateful for the supplies as the dwarves, being fond of meat, had little for the small elf to eat. She still had lembas in her pack, however, in case she needed them.
The next day the group was buzzing with excitement and arrived in Dale by noontime. The town was a grand cluster of wooden buildings nestled in between two of the furthest reaching roots of The Lonely Mountain that loomed above it. It was a busy town, filled with people and animals Mélanyë had never seen.
The Men of Dale greeted the dwarves warmly and they were all put up in an inn for the day. Mélanyë was in awe of all the new sights and people around her, but discovered that she was in fact very shy of strangers, especially these men who towered over her. Living among the elves, she was used to dealing with those taller than her, but for some reason these Men made her uneasy. She clung to Bilbo's arm as they were led through the town tour.
Bilbo was absolutely amazed at every part of the city. With each new thing they saw, he would explain to Mélanyë how none of it existed when he was there last, and by the end of the tour, she would recite with him, 'who would ever have thought it possible?' She smiled each time, but let him go on, knowing that this was the reason they had come. When night finally came, Mélanyë was exhausted, but the group had been invited to the local pub, 'Smaug's Bane' to listen to stories of the old days. Wearily, but still excited, she followed the others into the noisy, smokey house and sat at a table between Bilbo and Ferar.
Many tales were told, and songs were sung, mostly of the downfall of Smaug and the rebuilding of Dale. One of the larger men was in a chair close to the middle of the room and his clothing set him apart from the others. She later learned that he was Brand the King of Dale, grandson of Bard, the slayer of Smaug. In his booming voice most of the tales were told, and he spoke often with Dwalin.
Bilbo was friendlier with the Bardings than Mélanyë who was quite content to sit by him and listen to what was being said. One of the women came to the table carrying large mugs filled with a dark brew. She set one down in front of each of them, gave Mélanyë a curious look, and left to tend to the other patrons. Mélanyë, being left alone for the moment, as Ferar and Bilbo were both engaged in conversations, investigated the liquid.
With her small hands she drew the mug towards her and smelled its contents. It smelled sweet, but at the same time bitter. Looking around somewhat self-consciously, she tipped the mug and sipped. She immediately coughed and a violent shiver ran through her as she tasted the bitter liquid. Glancing around nervously, she saw that no one appeared to have noticed her reaction. Beside her she saw Ferar take a deep draught from his mug and set it down again. She looked back to her own. Closing her eyes tightly, she grasped the mug in both hands and drank as Ferar had done. She set the mug back down and let out a little cough. Bilbo looked at her with a grin.
"Are you all right, my dear?" he asked. She smiled, eyes watering and choked out her answer.
"It's good." Bilbo laughed and clapped her on the shoulder, taking a long sip of his own mug.
"I'm sure it's not what you're used to, living with elves and all, but it is a fine brew!" Actually, she had never had ale in Rivendell, being accustomed to the sweet wine that was more common among the elves. Still, since she was in a new place, exploring new cultures and peoples of Arda, she decided that she should explore the new foods as well.
"It's not bad," she said sheepishly.
They spent two days in Dale, enjoying the hospitality of the natives, but soon Dwalin began to look longingly to the mountain. They at last set out towards The Lonely Mountain early on the third day. They arrived at the front gates just before sundown and were greeted by many dwarves, overjoyed to see their friends return.