The Road to Dale – Across the river

For another miserable day the wizard travelled the land towards the river. The rain having once begun was loath to stop it seemed, and rivulets of water ran down the gully beside the road and pooled in each hole and crack within it. A fair number of droplets found their way into the wizard's beard and beneath his cloak too and he cursed the steel grey clouds that seemed to follow him as he rode on.

When last he had travelled this road the battle was but a few days in the past and the wind had been icy but dry, he wasn't quite sure which of the two he preferred.

As he rode, chin sunk into his chest, allowing his horse to pick its own way through the ruts and holes, he recalled those days returning with Thranduil's host towards the forest. grieving as all had been then. but still unaware of the pain the king had hidden so well. The company had been subdued and the songs that they marched to, or whispered as they huddled by the fire, were of regret and loss, and the King seemed no more or less grieving than his soldiers. Thranduil had not tried to hide his grief for the fallen of his kin and his eyes had been sorrowful but the wizard had detected no hint of any special sorrow related to his son, whatever he felt on the matter of Legolas had been buried somewhere so deeply and so well that not even a wizard had been able to see it. He had noticed that prince did not return with them and commented on it but Thranduil had waved the question away saying only that Legolas was about other business, and the truth was that he had thought no more of the matter. Then the Lonely Mountain had been behind them and the Elvenking had not seemed disposed to talk of the battle or the discussions that had followed hard upon it. He reflected, and not for the first time, on Thranduil's ability to appear calm and distant when trouble struck, a very useful attribute in a king. But that didn't mean that the wounds were not there, and not just those inflicted by Legolas and his faithless friend.

For a moment he halted pushing his hood slightly back to allow him a better view as he stared around, in the distance he could see the shadow of the mountain, a grey haze through the rain. What had been behind him now lay ahead of him and it was the same wounds that he had set himself the task to heal, well at much as they could be healed. A dwarf could be … difficult after all.

His own last journey in this direction before the battle he preferred not to recall and with a sigh he urged his horse onwards once again.

At midday he halted to allow both himself and his horse some rest, the forest was now too far behind to allow him to seek shelter beneath its branches and so he huddled in the lee of a large bush and pulled his cloak tighter about him, though the water was already penetrating it and his hat brim dripped a steady stream of cold rain into his lap. Having tethered his horse where it could graze at will on the short coarse grass he riffled through his cloak pockets and pulled out a small package wrapped in waxed paper containing a slice of waybread that would serve to break his fast, from another pocket he retrieved a small flask of cordial that might provide him with some protection against the growing cold and damp. As he nibbled at the bread he thought about the journey that remained. He was now well into the open land between the forest and the river and as long as the weather didn't worsen he should make make the settlement beside the river crossing before dusk. If he recalled it correctly there was an inn of sorts there with a fire and ale to comfort him, he would spend the dark hours getting warm and dry before calling the ferry as soon after first light as the day allowed. Once across the river he would take up the straight road towards the mountain, even without the threat of Orc it was a road he preferred to ride with the sun to guide him, Where the old road forked he would leave the straight road towards Erebor and Dain and turn aside and take the track that would bring him into Dale, just as Thranduil had turned his host aside to aid the men of the lake.

He frowned to himself as he tidied up the last scraps of bread from his beard and searched his cloak for his pipe. Though close on eight years had passed since the elven host had passed this way towards the Lonely Mountain little would have changed until he reached the environs of the city and he did not doubt that the journey would be wearing. Thranduil had told him that there had been many floods in those years and each attempt to repair the road was undone by the following winter. When the king travelled to the settlements of men, at it seemed he did more often than the wizard had expected, he went with a retinue of many, though the Elvenking seemed more than able to bear physical hardship without complaint, but however hardy the wanderer the trek would be far more uncomfortable for a single traveller. More than ever he was glad of the horse and the fact that another two days beyond the river would see him to be the outskirts of Dale.

Dale, how many memories the name of it brought back and so few of them good.

Another shower of rain fell from his hat, a drop or two falling into his pipe bowl with a hiss. He stared at the pipe in frustration but when it continued to draw he settled down to finish it before resuming his ride.

Would things have been different had Thranduil ridden the straight road to the mountain as he had first intended? Would turning his back on pity for those blighted by dragon fire have saved any lives? For had he not dallied taking succour to the people of the lake then he would have been at the mountain well before the Orc army arrived. Taken unaware there would have been no time for Thorin to call for Dain's aid and his small company could not have held the mountain against the Elven host. Without warning they would have not repaired the gate and Thranduil's bowmen and spearmen would have swept them away like troublesome flies. Had the elves done so and held the mountain would the battle have been any less disastrous? For disastrous it had nearly been, as he had told Bilbo Baggins.

He sighed, not that it mattered now, Thranduil had taken pity on the survivors of dragon fire and the rest had followed, even unto Thorin's death. Gandalf puffed harder and with a frown, he would always regret those three tombs beneath the mountain, Thorin may have been the designer of his own fate but Kili and Fili had been too young to end in such a way. Their house had paid a high price for the love of gold, just as Thorin's grandfather had brought down sorrow upon all the sons of Durin. But Fil and Kili had followed Thorin by their own choice so perhaps they too had always been so destined.

But without the eagles and Beorn.. ….Well best not to think of that other than to pledge not to make such mistakes again. Bolg was gone like Asog before him but he didn't doubt that in time the army of the dark lord would be rebuilt and this time he and his allies must not be caught unaware.

Which brought hs thoughts back to Dale, and to the mountain, and to Dain now king under that mountain and with a sigh he knocked out his now dying pipe before shaking out his sodden cloak; then he mounted his horse and resumed his journey towards the River.

XXX

Thranduil looked at son with a concern that he did his best to hide, though he was unsure how well he managed to do so. This was the first meal they had taken in their private quarters since the wizard arrived and for most of that meal Legolas had been silent. He had been merry enough whilst Mithrandir had been with them, even the searching questioning the grey wizard had put him to did not dent his good cheer and for much of the time he had seemed to be the elf of Gandalf's previous visits. Only on the last day before their visitor left had any hint of melancholy intruded, a mood that seemed to still have him in its grip. True there was no sign of the brooding self anger that he held him in thrall when first he returned home, and he had eaten and drunk with all the signs of good cheer, yet there was frown between his brows at times as if he was thinking on something that gave him no pleasure. His father had a good idea of what might be the cause of that frown for their visitor had reported his conversations with Legolas before he had departed. But Thranduil had not pursued the matter deciding that he would give his son the chance to ask the inevitable question in his own manner and at a time of his choosing. He had not expected it to be so soon but if his son's mood tonight was a sign it seemed that it might sooner than his father had expected.

In that expectation he was soon proved to be correct.

"What will you do?"

The words seemed to escape Legolas without his intent and his eyes widened as they did staring down at his glass as if seeing some picture there.

Thranduil blinked, for the question had come not only sooner than expected but in a in more direct a manner than he had anticipated. For a moment his heart sank but looking into his son's down turned face he saw no great distress only a weary acknowledgement of an unpalatable truth. It seemed that Legolas was indeed starting to recover himself.
'Even so it would be wise to go slowly and be sure' his father thought, 'a wrong step now might undo much good and I would not take that step by mistaking his meaning'.

"What will I do about what?" he replied with careful calm helping himself to a sliver of cheese.
Legolas's mouth tilted in a humourless smile.
"Tauriel. If our friend finds that darkness is within her what will you do? What can you do?" He drew a deep breath and looked up to meet his father's eyes. "You will not be able to leave her in Dale if that proves to be the case."

It was his father's turn to draw a deep breath and there was a moment of silence before he replied.
"Proof may be hard to come by in this matter, even for Gandalf the Grey. He is skilled at reading hearts it is true, particularly where evil is concerned, but would his reading be taken as proof?"
Legolas shifted uneasily in his chair, the first hint of distress appearing.
"Perhaps not in other times, but now, can there be any choice? If there is any reason to believe that she sided with the dark one then it is unlikely her allegiance there is ended and she must be removed to a place where she can do no further harm."

Thranduil gave his son a long, expressionless, look and when he replied it was slowly and with obvious care.
"That is true. It would put the men of Dale and the dwarves of the mountain at some risk to leave her there if her allegiance is truly to the shadow. But to bring her back into the forest would place our own at equal if not greater risk, for it would seem given what has gone before that her malice is directed mainly towards her kin. As well as breaching her sentence of banishment and doing that would raise many difficult questions in quarters I would prefer paid no more heed to the matter."

A momentary pain passed through his son's eyes at that but it was gone before he could say anything to reassure. He was silent for a moment longer not wishing to ask the question he knew he must ask however unfair it might seem. Yet there was no choice.

"What would you have me do with her Legolas? I know that she was dear to you as a sister and in later days perhaps as more than that, I know that at times you have thought that my treatment of her when she followed the dwarf was harsh, and I would not wish you to feel that I have brushed your fondness aside again. But I must think of weightier things that matters of the heart, the safety of our people and those we call friends and allies must be my chief concern, for that I swore. But .."

Legolas raised his hand to stem his father's words with a look of sorrow on his face.
"Please, say no more on that score for I truly understand and I should have known better even then. I ask no pardon or consideration for my foolishness. Our Realm and our people is my sacred trust too both as prince and warrior. To abandon it as I did cannot be excused and should not be. My shame at my actions taught me the wrongness of them and nothing I learned upon the road has altered that. It is something that I must learn to live with and, as Mithrandir said, to find new strength in the lesson."

Thranduil shook his head and reached out a hand to grasp his son's wrist.
'Legolas we have spoken of this before and I am of the same mind, I would not have you dwell on what was done in good faith however unwise it might have been."

The king sat back in his chair and inspected the contents of the plate on front of him and as he continued, his words seemed measured and his voice calm as if he had given the matter much though, as indeed he had.
"So in answer to your question if Mithrandir has some lingering doubts about her I shall need to make plans to move her should it become necessary, but if he is sure that there is evil in her I will need to take action quickly. But unless he can find proof I am reluctant to take the most extreme measures."

Legolas nodded though there was a hint of shock in his eyes at hearing the words, expected though they had been..~"Yes, but perhaps if she were held securely somewhere even then the risk could be contained." He said quietly.
"Perhaps, but where? I cannot send her south for that would move her closer to the fortress, and perhaps increase her scope for further mischief. Her past crimes being what they are I cannot send her to Elrond or any other elven realm. I might send her north to one of the small settlements in the mountains, but how could I ensure that she remained there and under watch? I cannot send her further west towards the shire for other reasons, not the least of which is that Mithrandir would object most vehemently. So I can only hope that there is no proof and that even the suspicion is small."

Legolas saw the flash of pain in his father's eyes as he spoke, though his face was carefully schooled to calm, and knew that this caused more turmoil for him than he would ever show. She had been as a daughter to him and yet Legolas knew he was facing the possibility that he might have to imprison her forever or worse still agree her death. Legolas looked across to his father's crown, sitting in its appointed place beneath the king's banner and prayed silently that the weight of it never fell upon his head.

"But if it comes to the worst?" He heard himself ask.
"Then the worst must be done." His father replied quietly. "There are few precedents for such cases but they do exist and they will be followed. It shall be done as Lore decrees and as law allows. Perhaps if the shadow does not return some mercy may be shown, but if the darkness rises again

His words tailed off but Legolas knew their direction. If Sauron rose again then no servant of his, however humble, could be ignored. He felt a chill invade his blood and a sense of pressure settled around his heart. He looked at his father and saw that his sire's eyes were wide and dark and that his jaw was set, there could be no doubting that Tauriel's actions were a source of ongoing pain to the one she acted against. The currents and eddies that she had stirred then continued to eddy around them still. Legolas suppressed a sigh and sent up a silent prayer that she would stand the tests and that the worries of the moment would pass with Mithrandir's letter.

XXX

The land down to the river was flat but marshy and at this time of year it was crossed with many rivulets and streams bringing waters from the mountains and the high hills of Kirkwood towards the river and the lake. Where they had overflowed even the firm land was slick with mud and dotted with pools where ever the water could gather, at the moment these puddles, though some were large enough to demand a grander name, showed grey and their surcae was rippled by the drifting rain. As far as the eye could see the land was bright green even in the dull light and broken by patches of coarse and reed like grass that was sharp enough to cut when whipped by the northern winds. Gandalf gave them a wide berth knowing their capacity to tear at cloak and flesh alike.

He looked around him, little had changed these last years, though he thought the road slightly better repaired than when last he crossed it. In summer there would be flowers and tall waving heads of coloured grass in many places but now, still early in the spring, it looked like a flat green sward, an appearance that could be death of those seduced in carelessness by it and tempted to depart from the curving road and strike a straight path towards the lake,That road had been built on a slight rise where the ground was firm but the heavy rains of winter had nibbled at its edges and showered the pitted surface with scree of small stones, even on horse back it was slow going for he could not move at more than walking pace without the risk of his horse stumbling. Soon parties of elves would come out from the wood to repair the road for the traffic between the wood and the settlements of men was more frequent than in the days of the dragon and not all could travel by river given its uncertain temper.

For several hours he rode on picking his way towards the point at which the marshes were all behind him and the road became a straight path to the river. For all this time he travelled alone seeing no other traveller, nor any other person at all, and the only sound was that of the wind and the birds that cruised high above him. Yet the land was not deserted even so early in the year and as he rounded the last true bend in the road he came in sight of the settlement he sought.

Even at this distance it had an elven look, the buildings of wood, strong and elegant, somehow fitting into the landscape they occupied, the roofs were of some form of slate that echoed back the pale colour of the spring sky. Trees were planted at strategic points around the perimeter to shield the houses from the gust of the wind and the whole village was ringed by fenced in patches of grassland where cows and horses grazed. Beside the village were several large barns from which the sound of sheep could be heard. In summer this permanent settlement would be joined by many summer dwellings and the sheep would run free on the land between the forest and the river providing wool for weaving, the cloth going back into the forest to be dyed and fashioned in garments, blankets or hangings. But most of the elves that made up the summer populations had not yet left the shadows of Mirkwood and for the moment only the permanent houses would be occupied, and probably only by the shepherds and cowherds. They would only return to the forest of their king for festivals or in time of great hardship. These were the lands that provided the butter and cheese on which the wizard had feasted in his time within the Kings Halls.

Off to the right he saw the sign of a homely hostelry, an inn would be too grand a term to describe it, but the bush growing beside the door told him that here a traveller would find a seat beside the fire, some soup and bread and recently brewed ale. At this time of year he would be lucky to find more than that but there might be some cheese, and maybe even a dish of nuts still left from autumn if he were lucky. With a sigh of relief he turned his horse's head in that direction in the hope of finding a little comfort and rest to pass the hours of darkness.

A figure appeared at the door before his horse was more than a few steps closer and he raised his hand in greeting.
"Good day to you." He called out as he drew nearer, "though day will soon be fled and I would find some rest for myself and my horse for the coming night."
He saw the women at the door look closely at his horse and then take a step forward into the dying light of the afternoon. She was an elf, her hair long and dark, with large eyes and a slender neck. Her clothes were of Woodland green and brown and her skirts were kilted above her knees to show boots of soft looking leather.
"Well met stranger," she responded. her soft voice carried easily across the rising wind. She came further from the doorway and set her hand upon the horses bridle as it drew level with her.
"This horse would seem to be of elven stock have you come from the forest?"
"That I have my lady. I am on my way to Dale on business for King Thranduil. I seek to cross the river at first light, will that be possible?"

She dipped her head her manner changing slightly at the mention of the king's name, what little caution she had shown melting like night before the day. She smiled shyly. and Gandalf did not doubt that somewhere not far away bows were being lowered and set aside.

"The river is mischevous at this time of year and cannot be spoken for with certainty, but it should be possible for the ferry to cross in safety unless there is a storm. But come in," she waived a hand and a small figure emerged from the shadows to take his rein. "Your horse will be well tended to, all honest travellers are welcome here and you are thrice so since you come from the king. We returned here after the midwinter feast for there is much to be watched over in the stormy days, and I would be glad of news of how things go within the wood."
"News I shall be glad to provide." The wizard said with a smile as he slid from the saddle and handed charge of the horse to the waiting child.

Not much more than an hour later he was settled beside a bright fire with a cup of ale and a dish of roasted nuts. The innkeeper was talking softly to him whilst laying more wood on the fire for the night had rolled in on a chilly wind.

"The king passed by more than three moons ago on his tour of review. They camped outside the village but the king came in to speak to all who were dwelling here, and he sat in that same chair drinking the same ale as is in your pot," his hostess told him. "He inspected the river crossing and told us that all repairs would be made once the flood waters have passed, and that the lookout on the further bank will be maintained even though the dragon is gone. What he thinks to look for I do not know, but then kings' have concerns such as I do not consider."
Gandalf nodded in silence though he knew every well what Thranduil would keep watch for. But there would be time enough for folk here to know of that should the darkness rise again, for the moment he, like the king, would not mar their days with a worry that might yet prove to be unfounded. So he just smiled and took another long swallow of ale.

"The king looked well and happy enough." She went on, her attention still apparently fixed on the fire. "There has been a sorrow about him since the battle at that cursed mountain, though he has always done his best to be cheerful when amongst his kin. She straightened and stared into the shadows with a faint smile. "But then our king can be hard to read. The Sindar are less open than the Sylvans even after all these centuries."

She turned quickly and gave him a sharp look.
"It was for the Prince I suppose, going off in such a sudden manner for all they say it was on his father's business. More to it than that I've heard but least said on that the better."
She smiled again and smoothed her apron
"Still he is returned now for I saw him at the midwinter feast and so his father's anxiety must be lessened. Whatever he has been about must have been important and difficult for he seemed less merry than he used to be, as if some care hung about him. But then he will have lost many friends in that battle so perhaps that is reason enough."
She waited a moment as if expecting the wizard to comment and when he didn't she reached for the now empty nut dish.
"Now, there are still oat cakes in the oven and last summers honey if you care for it, and perhaps another pot of spiced ale?"

He smiled and nodded and she strode away leaving Gandalf to wonder at the ability of elves to knit together a story.

His hostess woke him before the dawn was more than a faint lessening of the shades of night, placing a pot of warm spiced milk before him and a small basket of new baked bread. The smell of it stirred his hunger and he struggled to banish the last vestiges of sleep as she spoke.
"Your horse is well rested my lord and has been fed. I'll see it saddled and brought to the door when you have broken your fast. "
Then she disappeared into the shadows leaving him to throw off his cloak and lower his feet to the floor stretching and reaching for the bread. The door was already ajar and he could see that the coming day seemed drier than the ones before but the chill on the air despite the fire warned him that the spring had turned colder again and that the road across the plains to Dale might be an uncomfortable ride. With a sigh he he fumbled in his cloak for his pipe before remembering he had burned the last of his pipeweed before settling to sleep. With a sigh he turned his attention to breakfast.

XXX

As she had said the river was unpredicatble, and though it could be crossed by ferry it was spiteful, sending up small showers of water and unexpected heaves to make the crossing, short though it was, unpleasant. The ferry man, one of the raft elves not yet returned to running goods down the river to Laketown, took it all in his stride, his long pulls on the tether regular and easy. As they crossed he chatted about the river and the state of the roads and the increase in trade now that the dragon was gone. Yet the latter was tinged with regret for he had lost kin in the battle before the mountain. Gandalf said nothing more than his sorrow at the ferryman's loss but he wondered if he would ever be able to travel this road again without being haunted by the outcome of his actions. For whilst he knew the true fault lay with Sauron he also knew that he would wonder if there had been another way until the day he left Arda.

Turning his back on the river he began the ride down the straight road that led to the branch towards Dale, he could see the mountain to his right in the distance and he wondered if the new of his impeding visit had yet reached Dain. He smiled grimly to himself as he thought of it, there was no need to guess at what the dwarf king would think of that visit for he knew very well the regrets and embarrassment the memory of the their last meeting would stir. But there was nothing that could be done about that even though the wizard knew it would make his errand more difficult.

Another two days ride, and a night spent huddled in a ditch, brought him to the point at which the track towards Dale and the lake branched off from the road towards Erebor. It was less of track now than it had been the day Thranduil turned his host aside from his straight march to the mountain, but not much less. One day perhaps this would truly be a road but for the moment a track it remained, though wide and flat. Here he stopped on a shallow rise and smoked a pipe, staring at the shadow of the City emerging from the old ruins to his right. To his left the lake shore was deserted and a pall of cloud hung over the waters making it hard to see the new settlement growing up there. Already the memory of the dragon was fading from the minds of men, only kept from being story by the evidence of its bones still lying in the shallows. Unlike the elves the men of city and lake would soon forget, memory fading with those who had fought the battle, becoming history and like all history to be ignored or twisted to suit the times.

Gandalf sighed and put out his pipe preparing to mount his horse and complete the last leg of the journey. But his thoughts were uncomfortable, for they brought the realisation that if Sauron was not defeated before the elves and their remembering left middle earth then he probably never would be.