The road to Dale – setting out

In the end it was another day before Gandalf said goodbye to the elves of Mirkwood and resumed his journey. Thranduil and Legolas, along with a number of the king's guard, had escorted him through the wood to the point where the road emerged from the trees and began to wend its' way across open land towards the river and the marshes. There they bade him farewell and reassured him of his welcome when next he returned west. Then they turned their horses and headed back into the trees and about other concerns, some business to do with the crossing of the enchanted river if Gandalf had caught their conversation correctly at supper the night before.

Gandalf frowned as he watched Thranduil's tall form disappear into the shadow of the forest, his son, as easy in the saddle as the father, close at his right hand. There was much about the Elvenking he had not yet fathomed which left some unwelcome questions given recent events. His people's magic was strong but what kind of magic was it? As for the king himself, well he held his gates by an even stronger magic of his own and yet he had no elven ring, it baffled the wizard and he didn't take well to being perplexed. For all his time amongst the elves and his many visits to Thranduil Halls across the age he had never discovered the nature of Thranduil's power, and that made him uneasy when he thought of it. In which feeling he was not alone, for had been clear when he had broached the matter in an enquiring spirit in Lorien and Rivendell that it made other elves uneasy too. Only Galadriel was unconcerned by it, for when asked she had smiled and turned the matter away with a graceful movement of her hand and a gentle,
"There is nothing to concern you my lord, it does not flow from darkness nor would it ever be bedfellow with the shadow."

With that she expected him to be content and so he had been until his last visit to the forest when he had been forced to face the reality of the matter of Legolas and Dale. Something he had brushed away as unimportant until he saw its consequences. Then Thranduils' grief had caused him to wonder again, but this time with more concern for the outcome should the King of Mirkwood fall to his grief or quit Middle Earth. With that power lost, whatsoever it might be, what would happen to the forest and the spreading shadow?

But that was in the past, or so it seemed and for this reason he watched the Elvenking and his son swallowed up by the trees, having waved his last farewell, with a relatively easy heart. This leave taking was less troubling than the last one for he left behind him a realm that was enjoying an interlude of peace, and a father and son who were finding their way slowly but surely back to where they had been before Thorin had so rudely disrupted their lives.

Gandalf sighed as he turned his horses' head, a very fine elf horse it was too, towards the direction of Dale, Would Thranduil ever entirely forgive him for sending the dwarves though his kingdom he wondered? He hoped so for he had no doubt that he would need the Elvenking's help again at some point in the future, and it might not be so very distant a future either. Mirkwood offered things that neither Rivendell nor Lorien could match, advantages he would prefer not lose those before the battle was over if he could manage it.

XXX

Out of earshot of the wizard Legolas looked sideways at his father with a slight frown.
"Why does he go to Dale, is it truly as he said or is there some other reason
Thranduil smiled slightly.
"Oh he goes for the reasons he claims, but if those are all the reasons for his journey I doubt if even he knows."
Legolas's frown deepened.
"How so?" He asked softly. "Is he so tossed by the winds of fate that he does not see his course?"
He cast a quick look back over his shoulder but the grey wizard was gone.
"A bad oment for us all if that is the case, for he holds a seat on the White Council does he not?"."

The king was silent for a moment staring at his horses ears with head tilted and a look of consideration upon his face, a sure sign that he was weighing something in the balance, Accustomed to this his son waited patiently until the decision was made. Eventually his father spoke, keeping his voice low even though there were none with them than his most trusted guard.
"Yes he does, though you know well my view of that Council. But even so I do not think he always knows the forces that guide him."
"Why?"
The king sighed slightly.
"Once, at the beginning of this age, when Cirdan first sent word to me of their coming he told me that the Istari do not know all the twists and turns of the road before them, for if they did it might be too great a load for even them to bear. Dangerous too, should one of them should fall to darkness for any reason. Nor can they see the plan and will of the One any more clearly than those who dwell in Middle Earth by virtue of birth. I do not think the grey wizard an exception to this. Indeed I think he might know least of all for Cirdan believed that his would be the greatest burden. In the years that I have known him I have seen him many times baffled and at a loss, and I have seen him err more than once."

"As with Thorin?"
The king frowned before he inclined his head.
"Yes as with Thorin. Though I do not doubt that he believed he had good reason to wish the king under the mountain returned, and in that he might have been correct. His error was in the manner in which he sought to achieve it and in being poorly informed on the size and actions of Bolg's army."
"Perhaps that is so, but how could anyone have known?" Legolas mused.
His father shrugged.
"The Eagles did, the Windlord made that clear. The movement of the Gundebad army through the mountains was therefore known to some and he had only to ask if had any such suspicions, as he did."
Legolas thought about that for a moment and then he gave a wry smile.
"You did not ask."
His father sighed.
"No I did not but there had been no reason for me to do so, not whilst Smaug guarded the route to Mirkwood from the north. I did not plan on removing a dragon and leaving a mountain full of gold unguarded!" He gave a small and bitter laugh, "had I done so I would have perhaps been more cautious. When I did know of the possibility of such an army there was no time for me to seek more knowledge of the matter."

He looked at his son with a smile.
"Our wizard friend is not a warrior Legolas, I do not know if he has fought in any battle before but if he has then he has forgotten much he would have learned. But I too will not make such a mistake again, the army of Bolg is destroyed for now, and though the cost was high it does mean that the Dark Lord will need to delay whatever plans he might have made that required them. So we will have peace for a while, Dol Guldar is deserted for the moment, Sauron licks his wounds in Mordor, the creatures of shadow have withdrawn and both Asog and Bolg are gone. It will be a short peace I fear but a welcome respite nonetheless."
Legolas frowned at his father.
"You do not think Dol Guldar will remain deserted? Should we not seek to destroy it while it is?"
Thranduil shook his head.
"I spoke of this with Mithrandir at some length during his stay and it is his wish that we do not venture there, for the place remains evil and he doubts we would be allowed to destroy it if Sauron has further use for it. In that I find I agree with him and I would not lose more of our people to a foolish quests with the possibility of unforeseen consequences. So we will leave it be, though I do not doubt the darkness will return when Sauron is ready."
He gave Legolas a long, steady, look and spoke softly.
"Do not underestimate the evil of that place Legolas. If we were to make an attack upon it now then the consequences may be as dire as had we struck at it whilst Sauron was there, and the outcome of that would have been terrible I believe."
"But they drove him out, surely that means the place is left unprotected? He can have no time to make other preparations."
Thranduil's face was suddenly shadowed.
"Perhaps, but then again that might not be the true nature of events. Sauron was ever devious and Mithrandir is not persuaded that they banished Sauron at all, even with the power of the White Lady."

"But he is gone you say?" Confusion was clear in Legolas's voice.
"Oh yes he is gone, but it is possible that he always intended to leave when he was ready and that the most the White Council did was force him to move sooner. In which case his plans were made long ago. But even that might not be the case and he may have always intended to leave in such a way."
Legolas thought about that for a moment then sighed.
"Then he will return there."
His father shook his head slowly his gaze fixed in the depths of the trees before them.
"Return himself? That I doubt, but there are servants he may seek to quarter there as his advances his plans. I think that he will remain in Mordor where it will be hardest to assail him. I fear that once again we will need to fight him at his gates, though I pray that another way will be found for I have fought in such an assault in the last age and I would not see another one in this age."

Legolas seeing the shadow deepen in his father's face taking on that look of loss and grief that always came upon him when the battles at the Black Gate was thought of, nodded and said no more on the matter.

XXXX

The road towards Dale was much safer now than it had been when Thranduil had marched his host down it on the way to secure the Lonely Mountain, and without the need to be on his guard against troll and Orc it was possible for the wizard to allow his mind to wander, and he had much to think about. So he rode with little care for his surroundings, the outlying trees of Mirkwood to his left, their dancing leaves now showing green and silver in the spring sunshine, and to his right the lands down to the river where tall grasses and small bushes were also starting to sprout. But to all of this verdant beauty he was blind his mind being occupied with far less pleasant things.

For two days he travelled the road at an easy pace and without incident, and with no occupation other than avoiding the ruts and windblown debris and his own thoughts. This was no hardship for him for he was accustomed to travelling alone. All around him he saw the scars of the days of orc attacks, wayside graves covered in mounds of stone, and small shrines set up beside the road, gave testament to those who had lost their lives fighting the creatures off, and these would only be relicts of the successful ones, of those who lost the battle there would be no trace. Even now with the orc threat all but gone Gandalf was glad o know that the elves of the wood would be watching him from the tree tops on the forest side. For this land between the forest and the river, like the land to the north between the forest and the mountains was within the bounds of the Elvenking's Realm and his guards would not be far away. Thranduil had not promised him a guard, and he had not asked for one, but he knew that king well enough to be sure that he would not be left unprotected whilst he remained within sight and reach of the forest and within his borders.

When the days travel was over and the early darkness fell upon the road he threaded his way into the forest again, finding shelter in the stands of trees and screens of bushes close to the road where he might light a fire with little worry of being seen by other travellers, if there were any.

He had delayed longer than he intended but the horse and the weather would allow him to make better speed than he had when he had previously travelled this road, which he had not done since the final abandonment of Dale some years after the dragon arrived. Then the road had been dangerous indeed and sleeping, even on the darkest night, not something to be considered. Now he was easy enough to let his guard down as he sat in his small makeshift camp, and to take his time over his supper.

As he sat beside the fire his thoughts continued to range across past and present, reviewing his mistakes and their impact for future plans.

Much of his cogitation was concerned with events far from this road, in the Shire where Bilbo had resumed his comfortable Hobbit life and settled down beside his fireside to write his story of adventure. As he thought of it the wizard's expression drifted between smile and frown with a leavening of unusual, for him, uncertainty. He wondered if he had understood Thranduil's remarks in that glade in the forest correctly. At the time he had no doubt of their meaning but now he wondered if he might not have been mistaken. For how could the Elvenking have guessed at his own suspicion? True Thranduil had fought at the gates of Mordor and knew the nature of the rings of power, it was also true that he had known Isildur well, had been a friend of the mortal lord as Elrond had been, and would have known how that lord had escaped the Gladden field, but had he truly understood the implications of Bilbo's unseen activities within his halls?

If he had, and the wizard was of the mind to think that was the case, then what had he told his son about the matter?

Gandalf sighed; hopefully he had told him nothing, for the fewer who shared any suspicion of Bilbo's treasure the better and if Legolas was called upon to travel on his fathers business it would be better that he knew nothing of it. Thranduil was worldly wise and familiar with the ways of the shadow, he would not speak of it to anyone unless he had good reason to believe that they already knew; the king had asked many questions in the most disparate and casual of ways before he had risked so a direct comment upon the matter with the one who had seen Bilbo back to the Shire. Legolas might not be so circumspect if his behaviour regarding the banished elf was any indication. But Gandalf doubted that it was, or if it had been that it remained so, Thranduil's son had made grave mistakes in that matter but it seemed unlikely that he would repeat them. Even so the less he knew of Bilbo the better.

But what of the hobbit? When they had parted it had seemed that Bilbo had been looking forward only to his own chair by his own fire and a return to the comfortable ease that been his life before the dwarves had been thrust upon him. It was to be hoped that his satisfaction with home and hearth would remain unchanged by time, or, as Gandalf feared in his darkest moment, by the ring itself. The ring had spent many long centuries in obscurity would it be content to spend yet more, and if not would it manage to prevail upon the hobbit to serve its desire for power? Of all the being in Middle Earth a hobbit was probably the one least likely to be so swayed by its call but when it came to it who could say? There was also the possibility that Bilbo would give the ring away, or that it would be stolen or pass from his stewardship in some other manner as yet unforeseen. Were there others in Shire whose knowledge of the ring might give cause for concern? He did not think so, at least as matters stood now, but it would do well to be on his guard. Gandalf sighed again; he foresaw many other visits to the Shire before the matter was finally settled.

So his thoughts continued to revolve as he made his way down the road.

Halfway through the third day of his journey, when he was less than a day's travel from the river crossing and the path across the marshes, the weather changed. Until this point the days had continued to be fair and bright and though the sun was not warm nor had the wind been cold and it had been possible to travel almost until the light faded. But now the spring lost some of its ease as the wind moved direction and clouds gathered on the horizon. Gandalf had drawn he cloak closer around him and quickened his horses pace but other than that he took no account of the changing weather remaining wrapped in his own thoughts.

A sudden splatter of cold rain against his face brought him from his reverie and he looked up to see that the pale blue sky of the early morning was gone and clouds, grey and heavy, were massing above him with more hurrying in from the north even as he looked. With a sigh he pulled his hood up and patted his horse.
"A little further I think before we take shelter. I would make the river if I can. I should not have tarried so long I fear."
With that he pressed his heel against the horse's side to hurry their pace.

Yet his hopes were dashed and they had travelled but a few more miles when the clouds started to swallow the light and the wind rose to toss the trees of the forest. Now a cold rain began to fall in earnest, thin slashing drops that nipped at the skin and threatened to become a downpour with little notice. Gandalf scanned the sky to the north and could see no break in the blackening blanket of cloud, a dense mass that continued to roll their way. He cursed, heavy rain would make the marshes harder to travel, yet he knew that there was little else to be expected so early in spring and his fortune in the matter of the weather so far had been better than he had right to hope for. As the drops became a curtain he turned his horse's head away from the road and into the forest again, winding their way through the thinner trees until they reached a point where the wind and rain were lighter, there he made camp beneath the spreading branches of a holly tree. He made haste to start the fire before the wood around him grew too wet to burn and settled his horse in the lee of some bushes already clothed in leaves, covering saddle and bridle with the dried fronds of last year's fern.

It was soon clear that the rain would continue into night and with reluctance Gandalf rose to move his horse to a more sheltered position within reach of a grazing space then he took out his pipe and settled himself to rest until the dawn. The fire survived the damp and he had collected a good stock of dry wood and when he was satisfied that it would not fail he reached into his saddle bag for a small wrapped parcel that would be his repast. The king's kitchens had been generous with their supply of provisions and if not the fare he might have shared in the Kings halls it was a feast to a traveller in spring. This simple meal was quickly prepared and he settled himself close to the flame and away from the direction of the smoke, he ate slowly warming his hands upon the bowl as he stared into the fire. With luck he would still be in Dale within the week and well before the spring fair, his business there should not take long, though a little longer than he had originally planned, and then he would set off for the Lonely Mountain and a conference with Dain.

Dain, whom he had always considered less reasonable than Thorin, might yet prove a problem, though the stories he had heard since the battle on the mountain spoke of him as a good king and neighbour. His assessment of Thorin had been somewhat lacking and so perhaps he should consider that he might have erred in the matter of his cousin and that Dain might prove the more reasonable. He hoped so. Gandalf smiled into the fire with satisfaction; certainly he seemed to have resisted any gold fever remaining in the mountain and had gained a reputation of dealing fairly with his neighbours. But then with his kin buried beneath him perhaps that was easier to do. Thorin now, well if what Bilbo had says was simple truth, as he thought it was, he had succumbed to the lust for gold far more quickly and more seriously than the plan had allowed for. More than that, for Bilbo spoke of changes in the dwarf that gold alone would not explain, but then given Thranduil's information that too was perhaps not surprising. His smile became a frown, the insidious effect of that dammed map and the discovery that his fears were the truth might explain much that needed to be explained.

Not for the first time since that disastrous day in Dale the wizard wished he had been less eager to hand the map to Thorin, less precipitate in his actions. He should have taken more time to understand Thorin given where he was sending him, and he should have taken more time to wonder about the story told by the map. But there was also the nature of the dwarf himself to be considered and there had never heard any report that would have made him suspect that matters would go so badly wrong with him. It was true that Thorin had always been a self important dwarf, that had been obvious to all who met him, and much given to long speeches and grudges, but there had been nothing in his actions up to the time that they had gone their separate ways at the entrances to Mirkwood that gave warning of how rapidly and completely he would fall to the madness. That Thorin had all the pride of the house of Durin had also been obvious, the wizard clicked his tongue in annoyance; he should have given more thought to that too! Perhaps it had not been wise to be as open with him about his father's fate and the story of the map as he had been. For dwarves were brooding creatures and prone to covetous behaviours. Thranduil now, well he was a king with the pride that went with that, even in a great king, but his pride was rooted in his people and his land and it would never lead him into madness or unreasonable action. His pride also required that he dealt fairly and generously with others, not to do so he would see as being beneath him and a disgrace to his people. No Thranduil would drive a hard bargain in defence of his Realm's interests but his conduct would always be honourable and fair. He would not forsake those with real claim upon him, as he had shown with Dale and the men of the lake. Thorin's pride seemed to have led him down a much darker and twisted path.

Gandalf frowned as he puffed harder on his pipe; the simple truth was that Thorin's actions towards Bilbo, and the men of Dale too, had shocked him; more than shocked if he admitted it. Bard too had been angry and aggrieved at the way in which the dwarf had responded to what had seemed a fair claim and with just cause. Only Thranduil had not been surprised by Thorin's conduct, but, given later disclosures, that was perhaps not so surprising.

Of course it was those disclosures that made the matter with Dain more complicated, as did this banished elf, for Dain was fiercely proud of his line and jealous of their honour and so his anger at her would be long and bitter. Another reason for him to speak with her, and take her measure, as soon as he could. For if there was darkness in her heart then there was much further mischief she might do.

None of this was helped by his own behaviour before the mountain of course. That a lord of dwarves had behaved like a market place bully, resorted to childish taunts and name calling, was no a memory Dain would cherish, and each time he saw the Elvenking he would remember how he had lowered himself in those exchanges and that memory would eat at him and drive him to prove that he did not care. But the memory of that discussion after the battle might cause him to hold his hand against any given Thranduil's protection however much it irked him.

The wizard pushed his hand into the pocket in his cloak as if to reassure himself the letters were still there, one to Bard and one to the elven garrison commander just as Thranduil had promised. .Bard would no doubt assist him in that matter for his friendship with Thranduil, if it could be called that given the differences between them, had remained strong in the years since the battle. The Elvenking had been unstinting in his help the men of the Lake and the City in their time of need, a kindness that went far beyond any recompense he had requested or expected, and that had earned him much respect and regard amongst the people of those two settlements.

The wizard nodded to himself, yes he had no doubt that Bard would be willing to guard or foster Thranduils' interests.

With that thought he rose and checked the welfare of his borrowed horse before he pulled a blanket from his saddle roll and returned to the fire. Wrapping the blanket loosely around him and making sure his staff was close to hand he settled down to sleep.