Letters
The sun was high in the pale spring sky when Gandalf finally finished writing his letter. He looked at the sheet of parchment before him with some regret, it said far less than he had hoped it might when he first took the road to Dale but perhaps it was enough for the moment. He grimaced as he scanned the missive again, his penmanship was not of an elvish standard, his command of the nib being insufficient to prevent some blemishes, many of them now he came to look closer, but then he had so little need to write that some deficiencies must be expected. The pile of discarded sheets at his feet were testimony to the fact that he had tried for a fair hand, his attempts had used all the sheets that he had asked for and he was loath to ask for yet more, moreover the day was progressing and he still had much to do.
With a resigned sigh he blotted the remaining damp words and folded the sheet, Thranduil was not small minded and so would not expect a wilderness wandering wizard to produce a hand to compare with Elrond's scribes. He frowned at the burned out candle before him, the probability was that the Elvenking was more than accustomed to reading hurried notes written in clotted ink, for spies could rarely have leisure to practice their penmanship and Gandalf doubted that all of Thranduil's informants were in the courts of other kings. He smiled softly to himself recalling the wide knowledge of far distant lands that the king of the wood seemed to possess, but a few most assuredly were.
With a sigh he sealed the folded sheet with the wax provided to him and then he rose to his feet then he pulled on his cloak, thrusting the little packed into his pocket as he left the room.
Outside the day was warmer than the evening had threatened and though the streets were wet and the paving cold, it was clear that winter had finally lost its grip on the Dale. He nodded to the guards at the gate and strode out into the thoughfare beyond, turning left towards the road that led towards the river. He and the king had decided that the letter should be carried by the raft elves now that trade on the river had begin again, for the river was the fastest way for man, goods or letter to travel from Dale to the Elvenking's Halls. Though Gandalf had refused an offer of transport down to Dale when he saw the height of the waters and the speed and strength of the current he had no real worry about the fate of his letter.
Dale was busy at this time of day with tradespeople of all types calling their wares or hurrying about other business, he noticed a number of stalls and small shops selling crafted metal work and mechanical devices, things he associated with dwarfs, but he passed none of their number in the streets. This early in the year food was limited but there were stalls on many street corners selling bread, soup and cheese and the few hostelries he passed seemed to be doing a brisk trade. Dale was not yet the rich place it had once been but the children of men were forgetting the Dragon and the battle for the mountain and the darkest days seemed to be behind them, for the moment at least. Gandalf frowned as he strode on, this propensity of men to forget might yet bring them all to the brink of the abyss again, thank the Valar that there were Thranduil and Elrond to remember. Galadrial and Celeborn had withdrawn too far from the world to be much use in the keeping the memories of men alive. Even Elrond barely left his hidden valley these days but at least his contact with the Rangers of the North and South ensured that some were reminded that the great evil still remained a force in the world. A closer force than was comfortable if...
Gandalf halted abruptly beside a carved pillar memory pulling at him, it was here that he had first waylaid Thranduil in search of someone to go to Ravenill, here too that he had chided him about his son. A bitter memory that one given what was to come, but father and son had found peace together again, or so it seemed and so not as bitter as it might have been. The elven bond with their children was far stronger than those of men and their children and it would have hurt him greatly had he been a part of tearing the son from his father. Yet Legolas's crimes had been major and it would not have been beyond possibility that the king would find himself unable to take his son back given the support he had rendered to one who was in essence a traitor if not to an assain. Not only because of his own hurt either, for he was a king and things other than his own affections had to be considered within his deliberations, it said much of the love of the people of the wood for their king that most had rejoiced at the princes return. It could only have been the fathers' grief that allowed them to forgive a prince and a captain who had abandoned them, run from his own failings, and without even honouring those they had lost.
Gandalf stared around him, a grim look lingering about his mouth and eyes as memory raced ahead, it would not be far from here that she too had accosted her king and threatened his life with such dreadful consequences. Did she ever come here he wondered? He doubted that she would be asked to patrol here, and indeed there would be no need, but he could imagine that her self absorption might draw her here to relive that moment and wallow in the feelings of that day. Seven years was but a second to an elf and their conversaion had convinced him that she did not truly regret her actions and their consequences even now. His fingers slipped to the letter and he sighed again, he would so like to be sure about her but for the moment there was nothing more he could do on that score, he fingered the outline of the little packet and gave a mental shrug, perhaps Thranduil would be able to do more on the matter in the summer. He sighed, nodded his apology to the scowling woman whose way he was blocking, and moved on.
As he made his way through the streets, feeling the little parchment package rustle as he moved, he let his mind wander back to the days after the battle again, but this time his thoughts centred on Bilbo Baggins. In fact the hobbit was often on his mind and had been for some time, and not only because he liked the little fellow for his good humour and unassuming courage. As they had tramped back to the Shire together he had been granted plenty of time to think and that thinking had bred certain suspicions, not comfortable ones either. Of course it shouldn't have taken him so long to suspect when it explained many things, but somehow putting the idea of a hobbit and such evil together was not natural. But something Thranduil had said before the battle had come back to him as they had made their way towards Rivendell, about how the hobbit had taken the keys from under the noses of his guards and that had first seeded the idea but he had not gone much beyond that. Yet Bilbos' reluctance to say how he had managed either to get the keys or how he had got up Ravenhill in safety, coupled with his repeated attempts to avoid the topic, he who was such a garrolous and open little chap, had convinced Gandalf that there was something there to be found out. Yet in all the months of their journey back to the Shire, including that very pleasant stay with Elrond, he had learned nothing more. He had sent a letter to Thranduil from Imladris asking for more information about the dwarfs saty in the Mirkwood cells but he had received no reply, which had stirred the thought that something unthinkable might very well have occurred, something too terrible to contemplate lightly. Some information that the Elvenking would not risk to any form of messenger.
When he last saw Bilbo, happily ensconced in Bag End once again, there had been no sign that his unpleasant suspicion was correct and so he had left the hobbit to take up the reins of his peaceful life unaware of that any danger might still linger. But he had then set about matters that were far from peaceful, following the footsteps he had taken with Thorin's company again looking for where the suspected event might have taken place, if indeed it had. Eventually he had ended up back at Mirkwood and Thranduil's Halls where he had found a grieving king and another problem that might yet threaten Middle earth. But in talking with the king he had learned certain things that had both shaken him and ended his uncertainty, for the Thranduil had told him that he believed that Bilbo had lived undetected within his Halls for some time before he released Throin, and also that the One Ring had been for a time within his lands. He explained how his sense of the ring had co-incided with the arrival of the dwarfs, one reason for his distrust of them and his determination to know their business, and how it had gone with them, until Dale when he was sure that it had brushed against him again. Gandalf had no doubts of what the Elvenking had told him for Thranduil was an elf lord of considerable power and one who had been in the company of that accursed object before. If he thought he had sensed it then he had.
So it seemed that it was indeed found and as such it could only be a matter of time before Sauron heard word of it. Time was short then, it could not be more than a generation of men before the Dark Lord began to seek it out. Which meant that Bilbo and the Shire and all the lands towards the west would be in danger, for with Thorin dead there could be few other places it might rest.
The wizard strode on frown deepening as he passed a goldsmiths shop newly opened and saw a tray of rings on display. If Thorin had lived then the ring might have been buried within the mountain with none the wiser, and if he had known of the ring before Thorin was buried it might still have been. However that opportunity was passed and if the thing had to be anywhere then it was as safe as it was likely to be with Bilbo, for with his adventure over he would probably to lock it in a box and forget about it. Even if he did not he was less likely to sucumb to its temptation than most other beings in the world.
In the end though its master would find it though, for it wanted to be found. But perhaps not quite yet. But the Shire would need to be closely watched and there were few he could trust to do that. Once Elrond's foster son was grown and returned to his own people there would be other allies but for the moment the boy was too young and untried. He would need to seek other help on the matter, Gandalf frowned it seemed he must write another letter when he reached Erebor, this time to Elrond to ask what other agents there might be that could be trusted on the western side of the mountains.
He smiled to himself as he though of Elrond's foster son, a nice lad but still untutored in the ways of the world and not yet aware of his destiny, for he could not be more than seventeen and had spent much of his life in the cloistered world of Imladris. But that must end soon, Elrond had agreed that now was the time for the boy to venture further afield and prepare himself for the road ahead for the boy had much to learn. His smile faded, if Elronds belief was right then road before the lad was a hard one indeed, though it might yet have a golden ending for all. Gandalf hoped that was indeed the case but he also hoped that the here to there did not match the dark sorrow in the elf lords face when he spoke of it.
His musing ended as he reached the river and saw the boats of the raft elves tied up at the landing stage. To one side was a large wooden structure and before it was a fire its flames bent this way and that on the whim of the wind blowing up from the great lake to the south. He strode across the beaten mud path towards the fire where three elves were studying a list, all three looked up as he approached and one, a tall ellon with hair the colour of newly shelled beech nuts, muttered something and waived the other two away. Gandalf went to stand before him with a smilr.
"Well met my friend. I have an errand for you."
With that he drew the kings' marker from his pocket and held it out. The elf smiled and inclined his head.
"There is no need for formality my lord for my king had sent word that you would be here and would have some small cargo to be taken to him as swiftly as the river allows."
Gandalf beamed at him
"Ah, I should have guessed that would be the case for the foresight of your king is well known."
The elf inclined his head almost as regally as that king himself might have done.
"He is indeed a wise lord and a fair one for he has paid so that we might send a second boat with your cargo and not disrupt the trade we came to do."
"Then take it," Gandalf held out the packet of parchment, "and carry it swiftly for I would have as little delay in the transport as can be managed."
The raft elf took the letter and slipped it into a waxed wrapping that lay on the ground beside him, clearly they had been expecting it. He shot Gandfalf a gentle smile.
"It will be at the river gate by sunset tomorrow provided the weather holds fair and the current does not become too angry."
"Good, good, and how long from there?"
"By moonhigh it should be at the palace for the king will have a steward waiting to receive it, I will send a messenger ahead to ensure its coming is forewarned."
The wizard nodded and gave the elf captain one of the small silver coins Thranduil had given him when he set out for Dale.
"May Ulmo watch over you," he said softly
The captain nodded with a serious look.
"Does he not always? I certainly pray that he does for the river can be fierce at times."
"I am sure that he does." Gandalf replied gently.
The elf nodded and waived towards the fire.
"Will you not sit with us a while and take some warmed mead for the wind still carries a chill."
Gandalf smiled, for clearly the offer was made in deference to his aged appearance.
"I thank you; the mead would be most welcome and a little time in conversation if you can spare it."
The raft elf smiled.
"You are most welcome my lord for it is good to be able to speak in our own language to someone other than those I ride the river with."
With that he turned away and drew a pot from a basket beside the fire.
Gandalf smiled to himself as he folloed the elf closer to the flames and settled himself down for a long gossip, for elves do like to know of things and they hear much they do not speak of unless asked in the right manner.
xxxx
In her room in the Elvenkings' garrison in Dale Tauriel sat and thought about her conversation with the wizard. His words had opened the door to her anger again, but had also stirred thoughts and doubts that she had not allowed herself to dwell on since the earliest days. The sense of anger and fear still held her in its thrall and the memories of that day of battle, as vivid and painful as the time, continued to parade through her mind. As ever the only picture that was missing was that of Kili either in life of death, that still remained a shadow and, as with each attempt at remembering, she wondered why and what, if anything, it meant. She had been sure for some time that the kings' words to her on Ravenhill had been an attempt at kindness on his part rather than any truth he believed for she did not doubt any longer that he had known the hollowness of her love for the dwarf. Why he had shown such compassion when she had wounded him so she did not know, and many were the times when she wished he had not. Who the kindness had been for she was not sure even now, for her, for his son or perhaps even for the dwarf who had died bravely, somehow that last one was the most unbearable.
Which ever it was she knew she should be glad of it and yet she was not.
But the wizards' words had also brought new thoughts and feelings in her and none were pleasant, for he had accused her, there was no other word for it, of being careless of her kin, of judging them less important than one she felt some softness for. That she had in bald truth viewed her own wishes and affections to be more important than their companys lives. As he had spoken she had seen the direction of his words and denied them, yet the echo of them still reverberated around her thoughts. It could not be so! If she had done such a thing then she would have grievously sinned, more so than the king she thrown such harsh words at, for the king had done what he did in protection of his people not at the prompting of his own desires. But it was not so, it could not be so. How could such be said when all she had wanted was for him to send a warning to the dwarf? Yet the wizards' words had touched a raw patch within her, for it could not be denied that she had not known what risks those ascending Ravenhill might face and she had given no thought to those who must face them. Had she been the captain of a company at that moment, and without knowledge of those who needed to be warned, would she have sent them on such and errand without instruction from the King, and if she had and they had died in the attempt what would she have said to their families? She did not know the answer. Perhaps it was that admission which had set her reaching for the pen.
With a sigh she stared at the parchment before her and wondered how and where to begin. The expereince was not a new one for there had been many times when she had sat down to write to the king, never sure of what she might say but determined that she must say something, that it could not be left as it was. On the darkest days she almost wished that he had taken her back to the forest for trial as was his right and as the course of events would usually demand. If he had done so then she might have chance to speak in her own defence, to explain, and perhaps to see forgiveness in his face, to have that as her last memory of him rather than the weary distance that had been the reality of it. Many times she had started to write to him, to ask forgiveness and for news of Legolas, and all those letters sat in a locked box in her wardrobe, all still unfinished.
Now, once again, she felt moved to state her case to another. But this time she would speak to one who would listen with a kindly ear, one who would understand the confusion and the honour in her heart. This letter was not for the king but for the prince, yet it was proving no easier to write for that.
She stared down at the few lines she had written.
'My Lord
It was with much gladness I heard that you have returned to your fathers' Halls and found a welcome there. It has grieved me much to think that your defence of me had caused you to leave your home and brought your fathers' displeasure upon you. That he has found himself able to permit your return gives me much joy and hope and I pray that you and he can find some measure of peace. I do wish most wholeheartedly for your happiness.'
She sighed and buried her head in her hands, how to continue? What could she say? Legolas had seen her crying and had left without further word. From the little she had gleaned from his father he had been unable to bear the consequences of their actions and her grief. It was certainly the case that he had not ridden home with his fathers' host, nor had he attended the honour of the dead and it would have taken much for any elf who had been in battle to miss that. So it must be true. But more than that she did not know for she had heard nothing more of him at all in her time in Dale, her fellow guards watched their tongues when she was present.
Tauriel rubbed her eyes and looked back to the parchment and the drying ink and wondered how to proceed; she would like to know where he had been, what he had done, who he had visited and spoken to. She would like to know what he had seen in the lands outside of the forest and if his father had truly forgiven him. More than anything she would like to ask what it was that had brought him home. She could not imagine that he would have forgiven his father, or that he ever would, and so what could have brought him back to the kings palace? Having returned what could it be that held him there? Had he returned for her sake, was that why he stayed, had she been protected to make it possible for him to return? So much she wanted to know, so many questions she wanted to ask him and it seemed as if a letter was the only way she would ever be granted the opportunity to do so now.
She wanted to know if his father ever spoke of her.
But where could she begin?
xxx
Thranduil sat beside the Kings Tree as the sun toppled from its rising to its falling, on the low bough of a sapling before him sat a thrush its bright eyes scanning him without fear. The king smiled and let his mind wander out towards it, he inclined his head in thanks as the message was shown to him, Mithrandirs' letter was on its way up river and should be at the watergate by sunset provided all went well. Carefully he reached out to offer a small gift to the messenger and the bird rose from its perch, settled briefly on his hand as it took the morsel, then flew away to a higher branch to consider whether to eat it or dutifully return it to his mate. The kings' smile widened as he saw the bird take flight again the titbit still grasped firmly in it beak. He took time to send to a request to the giant Beech beside him that the trees guard it well over night, for its flight had been long and arduous for so small a creature, before he turned away from the beauty of the fiery sky and made his way towards his rooms to change his robe.
He had spent the day in hearing petitions from his people and was still attired in the most formal of robes, as that duty required, but now he sought a little peace and rest; tomorrow was settlement day which meant another day of sitting in the hall of audience listening to the pleas of those who were unable to pay their debts and the arguments of those who held those debts. The spring settlements were always the worst for many would have been unable to make much income in the dark months of winter. The crown would cover those debts whilst the debtor found a way to settle them of course, provided those that held the debt truly needed it paid there and then; Thranduil smiled a wry smile as he made his way through the torch lit passageways, and men wondered why he wanted tolls and treasure! He knew his reputation for a love of pretty gems but it did not concern him, they might think as they would, he kept his people secure and his kingdom happy and well ordered, caring for them as he had vowed he would on the day he was crowned. In his Realm there was little crime or hunger and his people willingly endorsed his rule, he had yet to see any evidence that the Realms of men did as well.
He halted for a minute for that thought had triggered another, he stared into a flickering torch for once not having to guard his expression,. How many Realms of men and dwarf had he seen rise and fall now? Ten, twenty? He could not be sure, but amongst them had been some of the greatest of the men of the west, if even they could not endure then what hope was there for lesser men? The time of the elves on Arda would pass, he knew that, but what would be left behind? He could, indeed must, maintain his Realm for as long as his Sylvan people chose to stay this side of the sea but how many more nations would he see rise and fall in that time? Elronds' ward was the last of the line of the kings of the men of the west, if he fell or failed then that line would fall with him. But even if he found his way to the throne of Gondor as the stories foretold he was still a mortal and though his span would be long by their standards the time would come when his spirit would depart to wherever the spirits of men were destined to go. His line might last a century or two beyond that, or maybe a little longer, but in the end it would burn away and leave the world to the care of those lesser men. What would befall Arda then?
Thranduil shivered, glad that he did not posses Elronds gift, for as the centuries had passed so his own sense of the shape of the future had grown and deepened and it rarely brought him joy. He blinked and pushed the thought away, there was nothing he could do about that for it was not given to him to order the world other than within his own kingdom, and for the moment there were enough problems there to occupy him. Perhaps the coming letter would add to them, but for his sons sake he hoped that would not prove to be the case.
He gave a deep sigh and continued towards his rooms.
xxx
"The messenger has returned my lord. Would you see him now?"
Elrond looked up from his book with a questioning expression.
"From the Woodland Realm, this quickly?"
Elrond maintained his calm look but he felt a sinking within him, such speed did not bode well.
"Yes my lord he reports that spring moves swiftly in the mountains this year and he travelled easily and without any threat of molestation."
Elrond nodded and closed his book.
"Send him to me now, then find him food and drink for I shall not keep him long. I will speak to him in more depth when he has rested."
The steward bowed and left the room as silently as he had entered.
"The orc army truly was decimated then." Glorfindel said from the other side of the fire.
Elrond nodded and his look became sombre.
"So it would seem, and if that is the case then the other rumours are likely to be true and Thranduil found himself in the middle of a true battle un prepared and may have lost many."
Glorfindel sighed deeply.
"That will have grieved him sorely for he is ever watchful of the welfare of those who call him king.""Indeed he is."
Glorfindel cast a sharp look towards Elrond.
"You think this bodes ill for our request?
"It may perhaps, for what help have we ever offered him in his struggles against the darkness? Worse still if the dwarf Thorins quest played any part in this battle, for then he may see us as conspirators for letting them go on to the mountain."
"Yeess," Glorfindel nodded slowly the fire gilding his golden head red at the movement. "If he knows of your part in deciphering the map they carried he might certainly do so, and he could not be blamed for it."
"No, given the apparent outcome it might indeed be seen as an unfriendly act."
"Even without the outcome it might be seen as an unfriendly act Elrond, given the presence of a dragon within that mountain. Gandalf was never clear on what he expected the dragon to do and I confess we were a little lax in questioning him."
Elrond sighed and nodded.
"I know, I agmit it did not occur to me to think of the danger that Thranduils folk might face if they roused the beast. It should have done, yet it did not."
He rose and went to stand at the window.
"The elves of Thranduils Realm have much to complain of," he said softly. "For too long we delayed any action against Dol Guldor and they bore the consequences. We left them to fight alone, to struggle against the spreading darkness without respite, without help. Yet what could we have done? The mountains that stand between us are harsh and dangerous and the road is an arduous one. Each season more of our kin leave for the West and our people are not warriors for the most part.
"Yet Thranduils people have had no choice but to be so." Glorfindel said with a wry smile.
Elrond nodded.
"Indeed, and that may prove to be important in the coming battle. For if Sauron returns none of our Realms will be left untouched, unchallenged."
"It is also why we need Thranduils help." Glorfindel added with a sigh.
"Yes. There is no one else left who we might ask. Though Estels road lies amongst men the time is not right for him to show himself to them, and even if it were I doubt that the help would be offered.
Glorfindel gave a harsh laugh.
"No, certainly not by those who might lose by his coming.
"Then there is only Thranduil, and he will do it well and with kindness if he will do it at all."
The door opened and the messenger entered, he approached Elrond and bowed.
"My Lord, I delivered your letter to King Thranduil and have returned as soon as I might with his response."
Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a look, a response of some kind was better than none. Elrond reached out for the offered packet noting the King's seal upon it, feeling a little easing of the tension that had gripped him as he realised the king had replied in person.
"You made good time."
"Yes my Lord, the journey home was swift, the elves of Mirkwood escorted me though the forest and across the river and into the foothills. We saw no creatures of the dark on that route and the King permits no lawless men within his borders. The mountains too were kind the weather more like early summer than fractious spring."
Glorfindel rose and came across to stand with them.
"What manner of welcome did your receive, for it is some time since one of our people ventured into the Woodland Realm?" He asked.
"A kindly one my Lord, though it is a strange place and the people strange too in some ways. But they welcomed me and cared for my needs as my own would do."
"And what of the King? Did he receive you in person?" Elrond asked.
"Aye my Lord and he spoke to me kindly, as if he were any Lord rather than the last King of elves in Arda."
Elrond smiled and nodded.
"Well we must speak more of this when you have rested, for I would know more of how the people of the forest fare and of the manner of their king in these uncertain times, but that need not be now. Go and refresh yourself and we will speak again tomorrow."
The messenger nodded and bowed then he hurried away to rid himself of the stains of the road.
Elrond watched him go with a smile.
"I think he was a little overawed by the King." Glorfindel said with a laugh.
"Why should he not be for he is young in the nature oi elves and will probably have met few of Thranduils lineage outside of our own lands, and he spoke no more than the truth. Thranduil is indeed the last Elvenking in Arda and a great one by all account. Would we seek his help if he were not? Sometimes I wonder what some in the Halls of Mandos make of that if they know of it.
He turned his eyes back to the letter.
"It bears his seal not that of his people, which means he replied himself. What that bodes I cannot tell other than that he read the letter I sent to him, he would have had a secretary reply if he had not."
With that he took the dagger from his belt and slit the wax that closed the missive. Two sheets were revealed both covered in a fine and flowing script.
After a moment Elrond looked up, his gaze drifting to the scene beyond the window.
"He wonders at my reluctance to name my concerns and objectives and the sudden desire to visit his lands."
Glorfindel frowned.
"Well I suppose that was to be expected."
He turned away and moved back towards his chair beside the fire, halting suddenly as Elrond held out the letter.
"But he bids me come."
