Chapter Seventeen: Oromardë
Thranduil had brought an army. There was no other way to describe the mass of elves, some mounted and some on foot, that they met on the way to the Lonely Mountain.
'You are Bard the Bowman of Esgaroth?' Thranduil asked as Bard approached him, followed by the Azshar, Glorfindel, Legolas and Tauriel. Azshar couldn't help but notice how stiffly Legolas was moving.
'I am,' Bard said, bowing slightly awkwardly. 'I didn't expect you so soon.'
'We were moving before your message reached us,' Thranduil said with a hint of smugness. 'I have already diverted supplies and people to your camp by the Lake.'
'I cannot thank you enough,' Bard said, bowing again. Some of the tension seemed to leave him. 'You will save lives.'
'We have traded with Laketown since before your great-grandfather was born,' Thranduil said. 'We do not abandon our friends.'
'It will not be forgotten,' Bard promised. 'I want to thank you as well for the help from your people these past days – Legolas, Azshar, Tauriel and Glorfindel. They have been utterly invaluable.'
Thranduil glanced up at Legolas, and something unspoken passed between them before the king turned back to Bard. 'Think nothing of it,' he said. Then, without another word, he walked on. His people began following him. Bard shook his head.
'On we go, I suppose.'
Legolas patted him on the shoulder. 'He is impressed by you, though he doesn't show it,' he told the man. The four of them left Bard behind and joined the march of the Woodland elves, right behind Thranduil at the head of the procession. The king did not deign to look back at them.
At the end of the day, they walked in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain. It towered above them, and as they slowly rounded it, Azshar could make out an enormous, cavernous opening. It had been hastily barricaded with huge boulders, and a new path had been made leading to it. Her heart caught in her throat.
'Can anyone see anything?' she asked. 'Are they – can you see the dwarves?'
'Your wayward friends are alive,' Thranduil said airily. 'My scouts have counted thirteen of them, as well as a smaller companion who was not with them when they were guests in my hall.'
Azshar's indignation at his use of the word guests was completely drowned out by the wave of relief that crashed over her. She almost laughed. Thorin, Nori, Bilbo, Dwalin and all the others were alright. Somehow, they'd survived the dragon.
They made camp on the south side of the mountain as the sun went down. Thranduil and Bard set up a command tent at the centre of the camp, and fires were lit to warm the men and elves.
Legolas, Tauriel, Glorfindel, and Azshar lit a small one of their own and sat around it in companionable silence for a while, until Legolas got to his feet with a sigh.
'No use in delaying it further,' he said. 'I'm off to see the real dragon.'
Tauriel got up too. 'I'll be with you,' she said.
'Good luck,' Azshar said, and they left to find Thranduil. Azshar and Glorfindel were left alone.
The silence that prevailed then was less comfortable. It was the first time in days that she'd been alone with him. He wasn't looking at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to speak. She cleared her throat, and his head jerked up. If her heart hadn't been in her throat, she might have laughed.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I know you've been waiting for me to decide about… you know.' Glorfindel watched her intently from across the fire, his face giving away nothing. Azshar closed her fist around her locket, on edge. 'People… say things about you.'
'You mean Legolas,' Glorfindel spoke up in a low voice. She shrugged.
'Legolas, Tauriel, Galion… there are stories about you everywhere I turn.'
His face hardened slightly. 'I see.'
'I know there are things you don't want me to ask about,' she said. 'I know there are things you're… trying not to relive, I suppose. But I don't know that you can ask me to love you without giving me the full story.'
'I never asked you to love me,' Glorfindel said, his hair like molten gold and his eyes like embers in the firelight.
'But I do,' she said, her voice catching. 'I do anyway, though I don't know why. That's the problem.'
Glorfindel was completely still as he stared at her. She nodded once as if to confirm her own words. 'I love you. But there's… your past might be the least of our problems. I have no memory. For all we know, you're the one who should be pushing me away.'
'Is this a yes?' he said. 'Is this you saying yes?'
'You aren't listening to me,' she said frustratedly, standing up. He stood too. 'I don't know who I am, who my family is, what I might have done to become like this…'
'It doesn't matter,' he replied, and he circled the fire to come to a stop before her. 'We've already established that this isn't a good idea. What's one more reason?'
'That…' She stared up at him. His eyes held hers. 'That's terrible reasoning.'
'Tell me your decision.'
'Glorfindel, you can't –'
'Say it.' He moved infinitesimally closer. 'Yes or no.'
He already knew what she was going to say; she could see the triumph in his eyes. He had won her. She was his.
'Yes,' she whispered, and his hands were on his face and his mouth crushed to hers. His kiss made her head swim, and she clung to him, immediately lost in it. He was so warm, she thought, and she tugged him closer – but after only a moment, he pulled away. Belatedly, Azshar realised there were people watching. She looked down and let go of his cloak.
They sat down beside each other. Before she could overthink it, she took his hand in hers and pulled it into her lap. He looked to be on the verge of discomfort at the simple act of intimacy, but he didn't pull away. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and Azshar's heart skipped a beat.
'This is a bad idea,' she said, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
'We should run away,' he said. Azshar ran her fingers over the ring on his little finger as she stared into the glowing embers of their fire. His hand was steady and warm in hers.
'Oh? And where are we going?'
'Somewhere away from everything. Somewhere that can't be found, like the hidden cottage in your story.'
'Where could we hide such a cottage?'
'Somewhere north, the hinterlands. The Hills of Evendim, maybe. Perhaps even the Forodwaith. Do you like snow?'
She laughed. 'I don't know. I suppose that's one way to find out.'
'We could stay there, and no one would ever find us,' he said. 'We would forget the outside world, and they would forget us.'
'Wouldn't we be lonely?'
He shook his head. She felt a tremor run through his hand. 'We don't need anyone else.'
She wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him, let his warmth seep into her. She wanted to kiss him and run her fingers through his hair and convince him that he was worthy of her affection. There would be time for that later, she thought, when they weren't camped at the gate of the Lonely Mountain.
'Could we really do it?' she asked quietly. After a beat, he shook his head again.
'No. I suppose not.'
'Because of your duty to the Valar,' she guessed.
His hands twitched again in hers. 'Every year, there's something more. More orcs, more warg sightings, more disturbances at Gundabad, more gatherings of goblins. There's something brewing.'
'You can't stop it all yourself. You are one elf.'
'And yet I owe it to the Valar to try.' She sighed, and his hand tightened around hers. 'I'll find a way, if you want it,' he said. 'If you really do want to do this.'
For a moment, Azshar contemplated bringing up the village that Legolas had mentioned. It was eating away at her curiosity, but Glorfindel had warned her yesterday that there were things he didn't want her to know. Would it be disrespectful of her to ask him? Or was it disrespectful of him not to tell her?
She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he stilled. They sat in silence for a while, Azshar revelling in their closeness. She suddenly felt exhausted. She hadn't slept since the attack on Esgaroth, and it was finally catching up to her. Glorfindel's thumb skated over her knuckles again.
'Now this, I did not expect,' came a familiar voice, and Azshar shot to her feet, pulling her hand out of Glorfindel's and whirling so that her back was to the fire. Gandalf was standing before her, looking tired and vaguely amused.
'Gandalf!' she said. 'You're back!'
'Indeed I am,' he said. 'And I would like someone to show me to wherever things are happening. I am feeling very much out of the loop, and I would like to get back in.'
'Of course,' Azshar said. 'Of course. Come with me.'
Glorfindel stood and followed them as they passed the fire, and the wizard smirked at him. 'Hello, Glorfindel,' he said. Glorfindel just nodded.
The command tent was spacious and well lit, though it was cold as there could be no fire inside. Azshar drew her cloak closer around her as she entered.
Inside were Bain, Thranduil, and Legolas. Thranduil raised an eyebrow when they entered.
'Mithrandir,' he said. 'How curious that you should be here.'
'I heard some disturbing stories about the treatment of Thorin Oakenshield and his Company as they passed through the Greenwood,' Gandalf replied pleasantly. 'I thought I'd see if there was any truth in them.'
'I don't think now is the time for disputes,' Bard put in, and Azshar hid a smile. She had to admire his tenacity; not everyone would dare interrupt a thinly veiled argument between a wizard and a king. 'Who is this man?'
'I am Gandalf,' Gandalf said. 'I know of you, good sir. I heard one or two things on my way here. I assume you are a descendent of Girion of Dale?'
'I am,' Bard said cautiously. 'I'm Bard.'
'He's a wizard,' Legolas muttered to him by way of explanation. Bard's eyebrows shot up.
'We have been discussing a trip to the gate tomorrow morning to parlay with the dwarves,' Thranduil interjected, getting to his feet. He was tremendously tall; Azshar supposed she hadn't seen him standing up before. 'Bard has volunteered to go on behalf of his people. I will bring a few of my men as guards.'
'I'd like to go too,' Azshar said. Thranduil shot her a withering look, and she stared back at him. 'I'm not taking sides here, but they are still my friends.'
'I think I shall accompany you,' Gandalf said.
'It's settled then,' Bard said. 'Sunrise tomorrow, we'll go up.'
'My King,' said Tauriel in Sindarin, poking her head into the tent and addressing Thranduil. 'We have intercepted an intruder to the camp.'
'Of what sort?' Thranduil asked, taking a step forward.
'We believe he is a friend of the dwarves.'
'Show him in,' Gandalf said. Tauriel disappeared and called an order, and moments later, Bilbo appeared, looking taken aback, dishevelled, and bizarrely, wet. He looked around the tent, his eyes lighting up when he saw Gandalf and Azshar. Azshar smiled at him, resisting the urge to give him a hug. He was shivering and wearing an old blanket, but he looked to be alright.
Beneath the blanket, silver armour that looked elvish-made glinted. Azshar frowned, baffled. It seemed there was a lot to catch up on.
'Good day,' Bilbo said. 'Or evening, I suppose. I am not an intruder, I would like to make it known, but a messenger. Though – no one sent me.'
'Who are you?' Thranduil asked.
'I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins,' the hobbit said, 'and I am quite tired of this whole affair. To be honest with you all, I wish I were back in the west, where people are a lot more reasonable. But there is still the affair of my one-fourteenth share in the treasure to be settled. That's partly why I'm here.'
While he spoke, he took out a crumpled piece of folded parchment from his pocket and waved it about. Azshar realised with amusement that it was the same piece of parchment on which he had signed his agreement with the Company months ago in the Shire.
'Now, I assume there are other financial matters to be settled,' Bilbo went on, 'including the destruction caused by the recently deceased Smaug.'
'Who?' Legolas frowned, glancing at Azshar, who shook her head, mystified.
'I am more than happy to take my one-fourteenth share from the profits of this venture, after all parties have been fairly compensated. And I do believe there might be a way we can come to an agreement that everyone will like. However, you don't know Thorin as well as I do, and I am here to tell you that as long as you are camped on his doorstep ready to go to war, he will happily sit on his treasure and starve to death rather than part with a single copper coin.'
'Let him starve then,' Bard said. 'If that is his decision, he is a fool, and a proud, greedy one at that.'
'I do see your point of view,' Bilbo conceded. 'However, winter is almost here. How long will your people survive in the snow without homes while they wait for Thorin to give in? Even elvish supplies have their limits.'
Azshar glanced at Thranduil. Rather than looking angry or offended, he looked highly amused. 'He makes a good point,' he admitted. 'We cannot stay here forever.'
'There is another thing,' Bilbo said. 'Have you heard of Dain and his kinsmen in the Iron Hills?'
'Of course,' Bard said. 'What about them?'
'They are on their way here with a small army, coming to Thorin's aid,' Bilbo said. 'When they arrive, there is bound to be trouble. Mark my words.'
'Why are you telling us all this?' Bard asked, getting to his feet and pacing towards Bilbo. 'Are you betraying your friends, or trying to threaten us?'
Bilbo cowered away slightly. 'There is no need to be so suspicious, my friend!' he stammered. 'I am only here because I am trying to find the least problematic path for all concerned. Besides, I have brought you an offering. Look!'
He reached into his pocket and drew out a dirty cloth, but when he threw it back, everyone in the tent caught their breath. Wrapped in the cloth was a stone about the size of a plum, and it seemed to glow softly, emanating a light that was like the moon. Bilbo stepped forwards and handed it to Azshar, who took it reverently.
It was beautiful. She knew what it was; the dwarves had described it to her before, but it surpassed even their words of high praise. She glanced back at Glorfindel, who was staring at the stone with a faint frown on his face.
'This is the Arkenstone of Thrain,' Bilbo said. 'The dwarves say it is the heart of the mountain, and Thorin prizes it above countless riches. I think it will help you bargain with him before the situation becomes stickier.'
Azshar handed the Arkenstone to Bard, who held it gingerly.
'How is this yours to give away?' he asked in wonder. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.
'Erm, well, I suppose it isn't exactly,' he said. 'But I'm willing to let it stand against my claim. I may be a burglar, but I am an honest one. Anyway, I hope you find it useful.'
Thranduil tore his eyes away from the Arkenstone to look at the hobbit again, his expression closer to wonder this time. 'Bilbo Baggins, you said your name was?' he asked, and Bilbo nodded. 'You are worthier of wearing that armour than many a warrior I know.'
'Well, thank you,' Bilbo said with a blush.
'You have done a great thing tonight,' Thranduil went on, 'but I don't think Thorin Oakenshield will agree with me. He may be a friend of yours, but I think I know a thing or two more about dwarves than you do. I advise you to stay here with us.'
'You are very kind,' Bilbo said, bowing and backing towards the door, 'but I think I will return to my friends. It would be quite faithless of me to leave them now, after everything. Besides, I need to wake Bombur up, because he's on the next watch.'
'Thank you, Mr. Baggins,' Bard said earnestly, and Gandalf's face crinkled into a smile.
'You are quite more than anyone expected, Bilbo,' he said. 'Well done.'
'Think nothing of it,' Bilbo said, looking embarrassed again. 'I'd better get going.'
'Bilbo,' Azshar said quickly, 'I'll be coming by tomorrow morning. Alright?'
Bilbo smiled at her – a genuine smile, tinged faintly by the stress of what he'd just done. 'I'll see you then, I hope,' he said, and then he was gone.
There was a beat of silence in the tent. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the glowing stone in Bard's hand, but after a moment, he folded the dirty cloth back over it and thrust it into his pocket.
'The situation is obviously a lot more complicated than we anticipated,' he said. 'The hobbit has done us a great favour.'
'Things could derail quickly,' Legolas said, glancing at his father, 'especially with an army coming from the Iron Hills.'
'The last thing we need is a confrontation between elves and dwarves,' Gandalf said firmly. 'This is neither the time nor the place. If we play this well enough, we will come to a solution that suits everyone.'
'I wonder how they knew Dain was coming from the east,' Azshar said.
'The ravens told them, no doubt,' Gandalf said tiredly. 'There is a very old alliance between the ravens of this area and Thorin's line. But there is news brewing that even the ravens haven't yet heard.'
There was a short silence while everyone stared at the wizard. Bard was the one to break it.
'Well? What is it?'
'All in good time, my dear Bard,' Gandalf said. Thranduil rolled his eyes and Azshar sighed. Now was hardly the time to be cryptic.
'Very well,' Bard said, shooting the wizard a hard look. 'I don't know how elves take their rest, but it is almost midnight, and there is much to do tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.'
'He is right,' Thranduil said. 'Let us meet here again at dawn before our party is sent to the mountain.'
Azshar followed Glorfindel out of the tent and back to their campfire, but it wasn't until she stopped and sat down that she realised Legolas and Gandalf had come too. Both of them were watching her with calculating expressions. She narrowed her eyes at them until they looked away and began talking quietly to each other. Azshar hadn't realised Legolas and Gandalf knew each other.
'Are you going to sleep?' Glorfindel asked her quietly, and she glanced sideways at him.
'No, I don't think so.'
'You should. You're tired.'
'Is this what I agreed to?' she asked with exasperated amusement. 'Is mothering me what you had in mind?'
Glorfindel smiled crookedly. 'I'm just observing that you haven't slept since we left Mirkwood.'
'Neither have you.'
'Azshar…'
She sighed, trying not to think about how much she liked the sound of him saying her name. 'You know what happens when I sleep,' she said. 'I don't want a spectacle here.'
'I'll stay by you,' he said casually. 'If you start moving, or you seem disturbed, I'll wake you straight away. There won't be a spectacle.'
She stared at him, wondering again how he could think he was such a horrible person when he did things like this.
'Alright,' she said cautiously. He looked faintly relieved, like she'd granted him some kind of favour. 'If you're sure.'
'I'm sure,' he said. 'Lie down.'
She pulled her cloak around her and lay down on her side, facing the fire. Glorfindel put up his hood and folded his arms. Azshar closed her eyes, but she could sense Gandalf's gaze on her. She opened them with a sigh to find him staring at her contemplatively with his piercing, pale blue eyes.
She held his gaze, and after a moment, he smiled at her and looked away. Azshar closed her eyes again.
The wizard was an eternal mystery to her. Was that smile meant to mean he approved of her and Glorfindel? Was there a sane person in the world who would approve of her and Glorfindel? Azshar curled into herself a little. She didn't want to admit it, but things were slowly spiralling out of control, and she felt like at least some of it was her fault.
She was in love with Glorfindel, and she didn't know if he really loved her back. She didn't know if he could love, or if he had just confused it with obsession, or a desire to possess. He had a past filled with dark secrets that she'd all but promised to ignore, and mannerisms that terrified her.
And yet the very act of being near him somehow put her at ease. His touch was addictive. She wanted to be with him.
She hadn't told him about the dark-haired elf that had been following her, or the man from her past with whom she'd had a relationship. But nor had she asked about the village Legolas had mentioned. If Glorfindel wanted to keep his secrets, she reasoned, so could she.
We've already established that this isn't a good idea, he'd said to her earlier. What's one more reason? The thought didn't stop the guilt gnawing at her.
Her racing thoughts jerked to a halt when she felt a hand rest gently on top of her head. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even as Glorfindel traced a finger lightly across her temple. Azshar had an urge to crawl into his arms and kiss him. As soon as this was over, she promised herself. When this was done, and they had time alone, she would kiss him as much as he'd let her.
It wasn't much longer before she drifted off to sleep.
She dreamed that she was walking across a battlefield.
The land was blackened, burned and stark. The sky was dark above her, though something told her that it was still daytime. There was a horrible, acrid smell hanging in the air, one she recognised too well: dragon fire.
Helcaruivë was in her hand, the tip dragging across the ground as she walked. It was flecked with black blood. Her feet were bare and inside her chest was the horrible, grinding, empty feeling she'd had when she left the cave – but this time, infinitely worse.
There was a terrifying shriek from above, and Azshar looked up. A dragon, huge and terrifying, swooped over her, the wind from its wings nearly forcing her to her knees. To her shock, the dragon was being pursued by a flying boat.
It swept by overhead, hot on the tail of the dragon. At its helm was standing a man who brandished a sword in one hand and a spear in the other, and seemed to shine with something akin to starlight. Her mouth dropped open at the sight. The dragon swerved in the sky, turning to face the ship. It opened its jaws to breathe fire.
'My lady! Look out!' someone shouted, but before she could turn, the dream shifted.
She was hanging from a cliff, tied to the top by the rope around her wrist. It felt like it had rubbed all her skin away, like it was grinding into her bones. Rain lashed into her face, and the auburn-haired elf beside her screamed.
Pain was constant, but every now and then, pure agony would rip through her body. She moaned weakly. She wanted to die…
'Azshar,' came a soft voice, and she quickly sat up, disoriented. She was shivering with cold, a heavy frost surrounding her. Glorfindel had his hand on her arm, and his face was unreadable.
'Did I –'
'You didn't make a sound,' he said. 'I woke you up.'
She nodded and sniffed, trying to shake the echoes of the dream that always followed her into wakefulness. 'Thank you.'
'It's nearly dawn anyway,' Glorfindel said, and he stood up and offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up. Something in his face made her frown; he looked like there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back.
'What is it?' she asked.
'Hm?'
'Something is wrong. What?'
Glorfindel stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. 'I only wanted to ask… do you plan to stay with the dwarves when you see them today?'
His tone was flat and closed off as usual, but his eyes were trained on Azshar's face. She felt the urge again to pull him into her arms, but she pursed her lips, imagining with faint amusement how much he would hate it.
'I'll come back, Glorfindel.'
'I don't mean to imply that I –'
'I would choose to come back, regardless of what you say,' she said firmly. There was a flash of relief in his dark eyes, and he nodded once. Azshar wondered whether she was getting better at reading him, or if he was just letting his guard down more around her. Either way, she was glad of it.
'We should go,' he said, and they walked together to the command tent. Thranduil was alone inside, and he looked up when they entered.
'Ah, the dwarf-friend,' he said, his eyes glittering at Azshar. 'Just who I wanted to see.'
Beside her, Glorfindel stiffened slightly, but Azshar just raised an eyebrow. 'Is there something I can do for you?'
'Did Bilbo Baggins have something to do with the escape of the dwarves during Mereth Nuin Giliath?'
'It's possible,' she conceded. 'But I've barely had a chance to speak with them since my own escape. I don't know.'
Thranduil studied her for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. 'Perhaps I was too hard on you during your stay in my kingdom,' he said. Azshar blinked, surprised. She assumed this was as close to an apology as Thranduil would get, so she nodded once.
Bard stepped into the tent, looking slightly better rested than he had the night before. 'Good morning,' he said, nodding to Thranduil and Glorfindel and smiling slightly at Azshar. 'Are we ready to go?'
'My guards await us at the edge of the camp,' Thranduil said. 'Mithrandir is with them.'
They rode out together. Bard and Thranduil were at the head of the party, and Glorfindel and Azshar rode behind them. Gandalf and Legolas came next, the wizard wearing old robes with a hood up to hide his face. Behind them came Tauriel and a mixture of soldiers from Mirkwood and Laketown. They numbered about twenty in total, and carried two banners – one for the elves, and one for the men.
They dismounted when they reached the beginning of the narrow path up to the massive door of the mountain, and made a show of laying their weapons aside before moving closer. Tauriel and the soldiers stayed at the bottom of the path and kept their weapons.
'I will go first,' Bard said in a low voice. 'I'll make my claim. If Thorin is fair and sees the reason in it, there will be no need for any… aggressive negotiation. If he doesn't…'
'As he undoubtedly will not,' Thranduil drawled.
'We will consider that alternative if it eventuates,' Gandalf said. 'Go on, Bard.'
Azshar watched as Bard walked forward, stopping at one of the holes in the stone wall. He peered through it and began to speak.
'I can't hear him,' she whispered to Glorfindel. 'Can you?'
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the man.
After less than five minutes, Bard shook his head and turned away, striding back to their party.
'So?' Legolas asked when he said nothing.
'He threatened me,' Bard said stiffly. 'He said that before he negotiates any terms, the elves must be dismissed back to the woods, and our army back to the Lake. I think Baggins was right; reason is further from reach than we had hoped.'
'We will not be returning to the forest at present, Master Dwarf,' Thranduil announced with an amused smile, raising his voice just enough so that anyone inside the barricade would be able to hear him. Seconds later, there was a shout behind them. Azshar turned to see an arrow quivering in Tauriel's shield. The dwarves had shot at them.
'Move a little further back,' Gandalf called to the soldiers. 'The last thing we want is to come to blows here. Remember that, Thranduil.' Then he turned to Azshar. 'Your turn.'
She frowned. 'What?'
'You have one chance to bring this to an amicable conclusion. If you fail, we will begin bargaining.'
'We were just shot at,' Glorfindel said suddenly, stepping forwards. 'Don't send her in.'
'She is their friend, Glorfindel,' Gandalf said, putting a hand on the elf's shoulder. 'The Company is protective of their own, and Azshar is one of them. I am quite sure they won't have forgotten that yet.'
Azshar nodded once at Glorfindel before drawing in a deep breath and walking forwards. Her feet crunched in shale, and her heart beat quickly in her chest. She was nervous; she had a feeling she was about to talk with Thorin the King, not Thorin her friend.
There was a hole between the huge, grey boulders that blockaded the door to the Lonely Mountain. Azshar peered through it, and after a moment, Thorin appeared.
'Azshar,' he said, and there was something in his voice that she'd never heard before. 'We meet again in such strange circumstances.'
'Hello, Thorin,' she said. 'How are you?'
'Disappointed,' he said smoothly. 'The elves are still here.'
'The elves came to help the townspeople,' Azshar said, deciding that glossing over the truth was in everyone's best interest. Thorin wouldn't take kindly to Thranduil's claim on his treasure. 'They were starving and injured after the dragon destroyed their homes and killed their families.'
Thorin's lip curled. 'Ah, so they have sent you to ask for money too.'
Azshar felt blindsided. 'Don't you care at all, Thorin?' she asked incredulously. 'These people have nothing, and you have the ability to help them!'
'I told Bard my terms. The elves go, and I will negotiate.'
From behind Thorin, Azshar could hear whispers. The Company had realised it was her that Thorin was speaking with.
'I am surprised at you, Thorin,' she said stiffly. 'The people of Esgaroth befriended you when you passed through. Bard himself housed you, and his daughter helped save Kíli's life. And now that you are wealthy and they are in need, you don't extend the same courtesy to them. Who are you to behave in such a way?'
'Who are you, to ask such questions of me in such a tone?' Thorin asked, his voice rising and his eyes narrowing. 'An elf that I never should have allowed to accompany me and mine! What a benefit hindsight is!'
'Had I known how proud and cruel you would become in your homeland, perhaps I wouldn't have fought for you,' Azshar snapped. 'Hindsight is a fine thing indeed.'
'You seemed happy enough to stay with the elves in their accursed forest rather than fight the dragon with the Company,' Thorin growled. 'So run back to them now.'
'I stayed because you left me behind,' Azshar returned hotly. The dwarves behind Thorin had grown quiet. 'Just like you left me behind in Rivendell, and left Bilbo behind in the Misty Mountains. I should have seen this coming; there were early signs that nothing mattered to you more than your gold!'
Thorin's face grew steadily grimmer, and Azshar was suddenly glad for the thick layer of stone between them. 'I renounce any friendship that was once between us,' he said icily. 'Now begone.'
Azshar stared at him, not believing the words that now hung between them. 'There is more to be discussed, Thorin,' she said quietly. 'Go to the top of the wall, so we can speak properly.'
After a moment, Thorin disappeared. Azshar's fists were clenched tightly by her side as she turned back to nod at the group. Bard and Gandalf came forward, the wizard still concealed by his raggedy hood. The three of them stood together and looked up as Thorin emerged at the balustrade, along with Bilbo and the other dwarves. Azshar saw Nori give her a small smile, but she couldn't bring herself to return it.
'Am I to assume your mind has not been changed?' Bard asked, and Thorin fixed him with a hard stare. He had become a good deal more intimidating from his new height, staring down on them from above.
'Bargaining with me will be in vain,' Thorin said flatly. 'My mind is not as fickle as Azshar's friendship.'
Azshar saw Óin and Glóin exchange an apprehensive look at the harsh words.
'There is nothing, then, that you would exchange your gold for?' Bard asked.
'Nothing,' Thorin said.
'Not even the Arkenstone of your forefathers?' Bard called, and Gandalf produced a small wooden casket and opened the lid. The light of the Arkenstone immediately shone forth, and it was like Thorin had been put under a spell. There was a long silence, and Azshar watched his face. It slowly morphed from wonder to confusion, and then to wrath.
'That was my father's,' Thorin said furiously. 'It is mine. How did it come to you?'
'There are riches in the mountain that once belonged to the men of Dale,' Bard said. 'We will give you what is yours, if you give us what is ours.'
'How did you get it?' Thorin shouted.
'I gave it to them!' Bilbo suddenly interjected. Azshar winced, and slowly, Thorin rounded on the hobbit.
'You what?' he breathed.
'I – I just –'
But before Bilbo could continue, Thorin had grabbed him and begun shaking him violently. 'Curse you, you miserable traitor! You descendent of rats! Curse you, and Gandalf who chose you!'
'That is quite enough, Thorin!' Gandalf rumbled, throwing back his hood and standing straighter. 'If you don't like my burglar, do not damage him!'
'You are all in league with each other,' Thorin muttered as he dropped the hobbit, his eyes glittering with rage. 'Bilbo, Azshar, Gandalf, Bard, the damned mebelkhagâs… Never again will I trust a wizard!'
Someone behind Thorin had given Bilbo a rope, and he was hastily descending the wall. Azshar helped him to the ground when she could reach him, and she gave him a reassuring nod before he took his place at Gandalf's side. She had never seen the hobbit look whiter.
'May we never meet again, Bilbo Baggins,' Thorin spat. The dwarves either side of him were watching him apprehensively.
'I want my share to go towards the people of Esgaroth,' Bilbo called back determinedly. 'We were the ones who woke Smaug, but they were the ones who paid the price. It is only right.'
'Have it your way,' Thorin said. 'They will have your one-fourteenth share, and nothing more.'
'You are not making a very good King under the Mountain yet, Thorin,' Gandalf remarked acerbically.
'We shall see,' Thorin shot back.
'We will keep the Arkenstone until the money comes,' Bard said.
'Leave before we shoot again,' Thorin snapped, his eyes narrowed on the glowing jewel until Gandalf shut the lid on the casket.
'Shame on you, Thorin,' Azshar said, her voice only just loud enough for him to hear. 'I know you are better. So do you.'
'Don't come back,' Thorin called, and he disappeared from the top of the wall. Glancing at each other uncertainly, the Company followed him. Silence fell on the mountainside.
'Well, that couldn't have gone much worse,' Azshar said roughly. Bard sighed.
'We got what we needed. Thank you.'
She exchanged a look with Bilbo, who shrugged sadly. Gandalf put a hand on each of their shoulders. 'There is time yet, my friends,' he said. 'The matter is not yet finished.'
'I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach,' Bilbo said. 'I might just be hungry, but I don't like it.'
They returned to the camp. Glorfindel stayed by Azshar's side, saying nothing.
As promised, before the weekend for all you lovely readers. There is only one chapter left before the end of part one...
Tune in soon for chapter eighteen, in which Azshar holds a pity party, Thorin invites his buddy over to see his new house, there are bats (but also eagles!), and most importantly, an interrupted kiss.
S
