AN
Thanks to those who warned me of the format error, I dont know what happened there as it looked fine when I reviewed it. Usually I check an upload but on thisd occassion I didnt get time, and it had to be this time it went wrong!
Sorry to those who tried to read it and I hope you dont desert me for the difficulty. Hopefully this update will work properly.
P
Travellers
Elrond and his party traveled east for two more days with no difficulty, the path through the peaks of the Misty Mountains remained clear and the clouds high, only the wind reminding them of the lurking vagaries of the season. They had passed the mid point of the pass and the west was now behind them, before them the road climbed a little higher as it wound through the peaks towards the east. The slope was gradual and undemanding but here the spring winds came from the north and east and they still had some bite, and there were occasional flurries of snow that settled briefly on the thin sheet of ice that slicked the sheltered parts of the path.
Elrond had spent much of their time on the road wrapped in silent thought, his mind wandering in both the mists of the past and in the shadows of the future as he contemplated the best way to approach this task. His companions had caught his somber mood and left him to his thoughts, only his ward making anything more than a superficial attempt to distract him from whatever contemplation caused his frown. Attempts that were met with gentle rebuff but nothing in the way of explanation, eventually Estel abandoned his questions and left his foster father to his thoughts.
Those thoughts were less settled than Elrond would have any know. He wished that he had been able to speak of the matter one more time with Mithrandir but he was loath to delay this journey longer on the possibility of seeing so unpredictable a being. Yet if any could understand the elf lords' sense of unease it would be the wizard with whom he had shared his hopes and fears. Elves were rarely concerned with time yet at this moment he could feel it pressing down upon him, an experience that he had not known in this age. Estel was mortal and within twenty years, thirty at the most, he would need to return to his fathers' people, to take his place amongst the last remaining tribes of the men of the west. Elronds' frown deepened at the thought of all that must be done to prepare him for that return, let alone for that future he hoped might be to come.
He sighed, it was that dimly perceived yet possible future that sent him traveling towards Greenwood, and even now he couldn't have explained why he felt it to be so important, except that there was so much that Isildurs' last descendant would need to learn if he was to avoid making the same mistakes as that long ago king. Some of which he could learn in Imladris, but there was too much that he could not for Imladris had been separated from the world from much of the second age. In that bright future Estel would need to know things that none in the hidden valley, protected as it was by an Elven ring, were equipped to teach him; things that might prove as important as the ability to survive in the wilderness, to track prey or wield a sword. Now was the time to start those lessons whilst the enemy was weak and the shadow of evil had withdrawn, for the respite might be short. But he could not help but be aware that there was much that could go astray.
He looked across at Estel noting that the youth looked dejected, his shoulders hunched and his chin sunk down onto his chest. The dark hair was tousled where it was not covered by his hood, his cloak was pulled tightly around him and the hands upon his horses' rein were tight, when he turned his head to stare at a falling rock it could be seen that his mouth was set in a thin line. Elrond hid a wry smile; sometimes he forgot that his ward was not an elf and that the weather and fatigue had the power to darken his mood. The smile faded as it occurred to him that Estel might find the elves of the Woodland Realm, with its long history of war against the shadow of Dol Guldor, less comfortable to be among than those he was used to. The little time he had spent with Legolas during the princes' visit would not have prepared him for what they might find, for Leglolas was not his father.
Elrond was suddenly struck by a memory of the prince as it sat in the Hall of Fire, the lost and haunted look that had so often settled in his eyes when he was not engaged in conversation. Legolas had been strange and subdued during that visit and if the stories were right it was with good reason and there might be many tensions in the court of King Thranduil. He shot Estel another look, concern shadowing his eyes, how would his young ward cope with that?
xxxx
As they left the highest peaks behind them, and the pass descended slowly towards the eastern foothills, the weather changed; the previously high clouds came lower draping the peaks above them in grey mists and scattering fine fragments of wet ice on their heads and shoulders. The dampness settled on the rock around them making the path glisten in the grey light, the film of water was enough to make them tread the wet stone with care, whilst the mist obscured the peaks that still reared sharp and snow covered above them. Estel wondered if the weather was responding to Elronds' mood as he pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders and envied, not for the first time, the endurance of elves. He also wished he knew more of the reasons for this journey and the discomfort it involved for neither Elrond or Glorfindel had been forthcoming despite his questions. They had been locked in private discussions on many occassions and he could not help but be convinced that those converstaions were related both to himself and to this journey, and yet none bar they seemed to know anything of the matter. Which seemed strange given that so many of his lessoms were shared by Elronds kin. Estel was well aware that a difficult path lay before him, for in time he would return to his people and their lives were hard and dangerous. Elrond had begun to speak of preparing him for that time and Estel could not help but wonder if this journey was some part of that. The thought was not a comfotable one.
As they continued their descent and drew closer to the foothills the sleet and mist became a penetrating rain and the wind strengthened. The occasional glimpses of the plains below showed a land both bleak and inhospitable where the road towards the river could be seen glowing like dull metal below the lowering skies, winding and exposed. Around it the heath land was scattered with rocky outcrops and patches of stunted bushes yet the grassland was decorated in places with patches of spring flowers whose pale colours could be seen even from the mountains. As they paused to rest the horses Elrond found a vantage point and looked down the road and towards the river assessing how quickly they might travel, for he wished to reach his destination with as little delay as possible. He scanned the sky and horizon, relieved that there was nothing to suggest that the weather would worsen, he felt a surge if relief, providing the river crossing was unaffected by melt water there should be no delay.
On the last night of their journey through the high pass they camped in a shallow hollow beside the road, the fire glowing bright and warm in the shelter from the wind. Elrond sat once again lost in thought, staring out towards the deep shadow of the Wilderland whilst the small party laughed and talked around him. Wrapped in silence his mind was already traveling forward to their destination and the difficult conversations he knew would follow on their arrival. The closer they got to their destination the more his doubts grew. Thranduil owed him nothing after all, and it was an uncomfortable truth that the Woodland Realm had received little help from the elves of Imladris, or any others, in the centuries since the shadow arrived at Dol Guldor. The king might understand why that had been the case but that understanding would not necessarily prevent a sense of ill use when he discovered that the first visit by other Eldar for more than a millennia was for the purpose of asking something of him.
Elrond sighed to himself as he thought of that request. It would have been easier to contemplate, to justify to himself, and to Thranduil, if he had something more than an intimation of a possible future to offer as a reason, but he did not. It was to be desired that it came to pass, for then there was hope for the future, but there was no certainty it would survive the turning seasons for other, darker, roads were also there to be walked. But they were not his current concern, should they come to pass then greater grief than the Elvenkings' anger awaited them all.
For the moment it was that brighter road that concerned him, the hope that the darkness could yet be defeated. Elrond sighed again at the thought of what might follow even hope, for the end of one great evil did not mean that all evil perished and the intention of good did not guarantee that good was the eventual outcome. Particularly when the intention was in the gift of one who was not prepared, one who was well fed on stories of valor and destiny and who did not understand that nothing, not even good, could be assumed to be simple or assured. He had the sense that even if hope triumphed evil might still find it way back though ignorance or hubris, as it had done with Isidur at the end of the last age. That sense was the only justification he had to offer to Thranduil for his request. He looked across at Estel with a slight frown, he must hope that the king saw the force of his fears and understood.
But there was a lot of history between the two of them, between his people and Thranduils', so much that he was not as certain as he would wish to be of the outcome, or even of their welcome. The shadows of Dagolad and the Black Gate might yet hang between them, even after three millennia. The people of the Woodland Realm had little to reason to think well of Estels' forefather
His mind drifted back to that fateful day at the end of the last age when Isildur took the ring rather than destroy it and by doing so set them on the path that led to this journey. He recalled his own anger and bitterness, wondering, as he had done frequently in recent years, why he had not acted more forcefully. Isildur took the ring by right of the loss of his father so he said, and yet the elves had lost as much, not least their high king, why then had he not challenged the mans' right to keep that which held so much force for evil? Elrond had long suspected that if Thranduil, who had also seen his own father fall in the battle, had been present at that moment the new Elvenking would have sent the ring into the fire there and then and still on Isildurs' hand if it was not surrendered. No friendship, though Isildur had been his friend, or fear of enmity between elves and men would have blinded Thranduil to what had to be done. He would have smote off his friends hand if that was what it took to end the ring and bring his people peace and safety after their grief and loss.
Now, seeing all that had flowed from the ring in this age, and knowing what might still be ahead, Elrond wished that he had done it.
But he had not and now another battle with the evil loomed, and all the grief and death that meant, because of it. He could not, would not, risk the fate of others again if any action on his part, however uncomfortable, might scatter the shadows.
Elrond turned his eyes to the sky, dark and misty above him, his mind ranging over his conversations with Glorfindel once again. They had looked at it from all sides but the conclusion remained inescapable if they were to prepare Estel before he was returned to his own people. And prepared he must be for Elrond had a strong premonition that should hope prevail then he and most of his kin would no longer dwell in Middle earth when Estel reached that crossroad. This journey was but the first step in a longer one that would take Estel from youth to man and time was short, and the power of the evil was growing. If the ring should emerge from its current obscurity, and Elrond did not doubt that it would in time, then they must be ready. For that reason alone he must risk Thranduils' anger.
He sighed as he stared up at the drifting clouds, but there was far too much that could go wrong. The Sylvan elves that made up most of Thranduils' people had little respect for the ways of the Noldar, or that used to be the case, meanwhile his own people had little understanding of the ways of those elves that had never crossed the mountains. His companions were carefully chosen for that reason, there were none with him whose families might be considered to be a part of the difficult history between the Noldar and the Sindar; but even so most were of the Noldar and Thranduil would be well aware of it. The party all understood what was expected of them but with so little known of life within Thranduils Realm the possibility of misunderstanding remained. He hoped that the Elvenking would have allowed for this in his arrangements and that the contact between the two groups would be carefully managed.
However Estel himself remained one of the sources of possible discord for though he had left boyhood behind him now he was still young, very young for one of his race. He had been taught the history of the Eldar of course but his youth argued against him understanding the deeper currents that lay below the stirring stories of battle and love. He also had the prejudices and intemperate affections of the youth of men and could be quick to shallow, hot and partisan judgments, it would be as well to put his foster son on his guard before they arrived.
He looked across at the huddled figure, sunk into his cloak and with his hands grasped tightly around a bowl of broth. Above them the stars burned white between the drifting clouds and the land slipped in and out of shadow as they cupped the moon in their fingers. Now, while they had time and shelter, seemed an appropriate time for the discussion, so he rose and moved closer settling himself down beside the youth and speaking to him in a low and serious voice.
"Estel, if this journey is to achieve what I wish for then there are things that you must understand before we come to Thranduils' Realm, and I would start the lesson now while you have time to reflect upon it and ask such questions as occur to you. Once we are within the forest and under escort it will be hard to find an opportunity for further talk upon the matter."
Estel looked at him in surprise for a moment and then frowned. When he replied his voice expressed both anxiety and regret.
"Do you fear that I will disgrace you before King Thranduil in some way by my conduct, my lord, if so how? Tell me and I will be on my guard for I would not give you any cause to be ashamed of me.
Elrond put out his hand and gripped his foster sons' arm.
"I know you would not, nor would I expect you to do so, but you are young and have led a sheltered and ordered life since your arrival in Imladris and you know little of the world either of men or other elves, it would not be your blame if you erred in innocence not knowing what you do."
Catching the serious tone Estel looked at Elrond with a wary expression.
"I will do my best to take whatever lesson you would wish me learn to my heart, but what can there be that is so portentous that I have not learned in Imladris? You have been a careful and kind teacher, as have my brothers and your other kin, what can there be that you have neglected until now?"
Elrond smiled.
"Not neglected Estel, for some part of that I would have you understand you have already mastered. But until this time there has been no reason for us to speak of the rest.
"What then must I know that I do not?
Elrond looked at him with a serious expression.
"The nature of kings."
xxxx
Thranduil descended gracefully from his throne and ept past the small knot of dwarfs clustered at the base of the steps, each of whom bowed respectfully as he passed. The guards at the doors that led towards his private rooms hurried to open them for him and he acknowledged their actions with a slight inclination of his head, ignoring the low rumble of voices he could hear starting up as he moved away. His equerry would see the visitors to their quarters and arrange for their comfort, there would be no need for him to see them again until the evening meal, and perhaps not even then if he could find a reason to dine privately. Something he would give some thought to
He sighed as he moved down the walkway for he admitted to himself that he had no inclination to spend any more time with them, for he found that the presence of dwarfs reminded him of the battle before the mountain and those he had lost that day. For an elf the seven springs that had passed since that battle were as nothing, and every dwarf within his sight now reminded him of Thorin and his little band, and of the sorrows that had followed in their troublesome wake. He made the decision, he would not see them again this day and they would be gone soon after the sun rose. They had no reason to feel aggrieved if they were left to dine alone, after all there was nothing more to discuss and there was no shared interests or knowledge that might provide a basis for comfortable discourse in a more social context.
This little party was made up of minor merchants from the north west with their families and servants and they held no place in the lands they traveled to, and they knew little or nothing of the people of those lands. The King of Mirkwood granting them an audience was more than they might have expected when they were stopped at the forest gate and at another time he might have left it to other to speak with them. But they had come with a letter of introduction from Gandalf and they had requested passage in the proper manner and so, unlike Thorin and his surly band, he had no real quarrel with their conduct. Nor was there any reason to fear their allegiance to the enemy as there had been then, for the shadow was still at bay. What realm they came from Thranduil did not know, nor did he care provided they offered no insult or harm to his people and moved on quickly.
The meeting had been amicable enough; they had been polite, careful in their choice of words and the nature of their expression, and in his turn he had smiled graciously and granted them what they had asked of him, safe passage down the Elven road and through the northern forest on their way to Erebor. In addition he had granted them an escort through the deepest part of the forest, for there was still danger for the unwary and there children amongst them. This was the first group to arrive since the start of the winter snows but there would be more as summer arrived, each summer the number traveling towards Erebor increased as news of Dains' claiming of the mountain had slowly spread.
Whatever his thoughts about dwarfs in general he had no quarrel with this group and no reason to deny them. They would leave on the morrow and travel north with one of the routine patrols heading for the river; and from there they would take the road towards the lonely mountain and Dains' court. With the ceremony of the Battlestone approaching it served his purposes to give Dain no cause to feel his people were being slighted. He smiled slightly as he strode towards his own rooms; no doubt the reports of the Elvenkings' courtesy to his kin would cause Dain some discomfort, a small and satisfying payment for the insults offered so freely before the mountain.
Thranduil slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe and ran his fingers over the edge of the parchment sitting there. Gandalf had written in Elvish and the dwarfs had no understanding that the letter they had carried for him contained more than a request for their safe passage through the forest. He had not read the extra passages in any detail whilst the dwarfs had stood before him but he had seen enough to know that the wizard wanted something of him, but then he usually did. This time it seemed to be related to Elrond's visit, which at least should not involve him in an unexpected war.
Reaching the quiet and privacy of his own rooms he pulled out the letter and then threw off his formal robe and placed his crown and staff in their appointed place beneath his banner. After a moments thought he unbuckled his sword belt and laid it beside the crown, he would see no one else this day.
Behind him Galion entered on silent feet and watched as the king settled down in his favourite chair laying the letter in his hand upon the table beside him. Without turning Thranduil spoke quietly.
"I will see no one else today unless the matter is urgent."
Galion stepped forward and placed a small pile of parchment beside the letter on the table.
"As you wish Sire, your secretary said these need your attention. Do you wish me to bring food and drink?
Thranduil nodded with a small sigh.
"An infusion of elderflower and a little bread will be sufficient. I will dine here later, with Legolas if he so chooses, until then see that none disturb me. Ensure that the visitors needs are attended to whilst they remain within these Halls and that they are provisioned for the rest of their journey. Entertain them as seems best to you but I would not have King Dain given reason to complain of our hospitality to those who seek his protection."
Galion nodded.
"As you command my Lord; it is as well that they have traveled far for were they less weary I doubt they would find any entertainment we might offer them of interest. Dwarfs are of a rowdy persuasion, or so I have heard, and have no appreciation of the harp or flute. Nor are they fond of wine, preferring ale, I will see if there is any remaining from the autumn, though I think the last party drained the final barrel. With your permission I will arrange for more to be brought up from Dale for I doubt these will be last dwarfs we see before the snows return."
The king smiled but said nothing, just waved his butler away with a graceful gesture. Galion bowed and left as quietly as he had arrived
Once he was alone Thranduil settled himself comfortably, picked up Gandalfs' letter and began to read.
