Chapter 18: Foreign Encounter
The pathway is a long and narrow trail, tall walls of stone towering above their heads on either side. Edyth moves easily enough through it, but the Dwarves have a wider stance than her and Bilbo, forcing them to constantly move their shoulders. Above them is a slither of sky, the only light they have but it is enough to light the entire pathway.
Edyth has utterly no idea where they are headed but trusts the Gandalf must have some idea since he seemed quite convinced of the cave's safety. All she can do is follow the Dwarf in front of her, which just so happens to be Fili.
With her ankle becoming worse with each step, soft pants of pain puff out from the back of her throat, no matter how hard she tries to keep them at bay. It is probably only twisted, needing nothing more than rest but cannot receive that yet.
Finally, the pathway opens up into a small ledge. A tiny waterfall trickles from just above their heads, flowing down onto the pathway past their feet. Stepping down a small level sends a spike of pain, her hands flaring out to find support before she topples. Mortifyingly, she does find something to hold, her fingers wrapping around the fabric of a coat. As soon as she shifts her weight, her eyes dart to the person who unwillingly offered their support. Edyth snaps her hand back to her side, setting her eyes straight as Thorin so happened to be the person on her left. As if the day could not get any worse.
But any and all feelings are forgotten in one more short step, replaced by complete and utter wonder. Edyth's mouth falls open slightly, able to see the entirety of the city from their position on the ledge. Waterfalls all around, flowing out of the sides of cliffs. Tall, golden gleaming buildings unlike she has ever seen before – in books or by her own eyes.
The Dwarves do not seem as impressed by its sight, Edyth pays them no mind. "Where…" she whispers, unable to even finish her own words. She has an inkling, but she dares not say it in case it is not true.
"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf says, confirming her thoughts. "In the Common Tongue, it is known by another name."
"Rivendell," Bilbo breathes from her side. He is just as, or even more so, mesmerised than her.
"Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea."
Thorin snarls, sulking up to Gandalf. "This was your plan all along," he seethes, "to seek refuge with our enemy."
"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf counters. Edyth listens but stays quiet. "The only ill-will to be found in this Valley is that which you bring yourself." She recalls the way Thorin spoke about the Elves beforehand; their denial to help the Dwarves. It creates a confliction in her that she doesn't know how to sort out.
For most of her life, Elves have been the epitome of perfect. But after spending a month with the Dwarves, she is already growing fond of them and if they don't like the Elves then she should believe they have good reason.
"You think the Elves will give out quest their blessing? They will try and stop us."
"Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tack, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me."
Edyth raises her eyebrow as Gandalf marches past her. Only he dares to speak to Thorin in such a way. Though her head is kept straight, she watches Thorin stalk forward from the corner of her eye, a deep scowl set in his forehead.
"He's right," Edyth declares out of nowhere, surprising even herself. Thorin turns his head slightly, eyes pointing to hers. Swallowing, she finishes the words she meant to keep as a thought. "You're not exactly a charming fellow."
Thorin rolls his eyes, setting his head back forward. "You will keep your mouth shut around these Elves," he commands, tossing his eyes back to her to ensure she is listening. Edyth nods easily, already having made a note to keep the quest secret. "And make sure Oin looks at your face. It was already gangly enough beforehand."
Edyth glares at the back of his head huffily as Thorin marches forward to lead the group down the path. Pushing her to ensure her wellbeing but insulting her at the same time? Typical. She begins to follow the Dwarves down slowly.
"Have you ever been to Rivendell before?" she asks Bofur, ending up next to him. "Have any of the Dwarves?"
Bofur snorts mirthfully. "And what reason would we come here for?" he points out. Edyth shrugs in agreement. Bofur leans in closer to her ear. "Between you and me, I've heard they have some good wine and I'm looking forward to trying some. If we aren't slaughtered once we get there that is."
Edyth stares at him with wide eyes, much like an owl. "Slaughtered?" she hisses, stopping in her tracks.
Bofur raises his eyebrows. "Teasing," he chirps, continuing to walk. Edyth stays in place for another moment, wondering what on earth they are walking in to but an arm wrapping around her shoulder pushes her onwards.
"You looked excited two minutes ago," Fili muses.
"Yes, before I started to wonder whether being with you lot will get me killed in this place," she mutters, limping along slightly. Fili huffs, amused.
"You think we couldn't handle a few pointy-ears?" Edyth snorts, bearing a small smile as he worries ease slightly. "Hurt your ankle, didn't you?" She nods and Fili moves her arm over his own shoulder, taking some of the weight off of it.
"Thank you," she mutters, relieved to be able to walk without constant flares. "It's just twisted," she adds, not wanting anybody to think she's done herself good and down. "I'm looking forward to sleep."
"Aren't we all."
The pathway is still long and thin, but instead of stone walls on either side, it purely drops off into whatever lies below. They can see the entire Valley from their perch. The pace is set slow, mostly from the apprehension of the company, but Edyth doesn't make a complaint just yet, taking every second offered to search for details in Rivendell that she may never be able to see again. It soon turns to a properly carved bridge, the carved stone in a patterned weave.
"Is stone really that interesting to you?" Fili taunts, noting her downward casted eyes. Edyth opens her mouth to respond, but instead settles on a playful glare, pinching his shoulder. "You would love the Blue Mountains then. And from I've heard, no stonework can ever compare to Erebor's." There is a wonder and hope in his voice that almost makes him seem childlike in that instant.
"Well, I'll just have to see to compare," she grins.
"I'm glad to see you so confident in the quest."
"Are people doubting my burgling skills? I stole your knife easily enough."
"Kili caught you," he huffs. Edyth sucks her cheek, rolling her eyes.
"He's quiet for a Dwarf. Unnaturally so. Maybe you don't need a burglar after all."
"Don't give him any ideas, he'll volunteer in an instant."
The tone of Fili's voice changes slightly; gruffer and firmer. Edyth peers up at him quietly. "You worry about him," she notes softly. "I can see why. He's a risktaker. Don't worry, I won't encourage him."
"Your presence alone encourages him," Fili grunts.
Edyth buries her brows. "I'm not sure exactly how to take that."
"He's a show-off," Fili replies, smiling slightly in a tired, but humoured manner. The conversation drops off there as the company slows to a stop on a round platform, the entrance decorated with two golden statues of armed Elves. Edyth pulls her arms back to herself, spinning around slowly on the spot. Still, none of the Dwarves look at all happy to be here and Edyth almost feels bad that they are in such an uncomfortable place for them.
Soon, a single figure strides down the stairs from the direction of the city. He is donned in a purple-red robe, with long brown hair pin-straight and golden circlet around his forehead. Edyth steps forward to have a closer look, pushing between Kili and Thorin.
Edyth blankly stares at him, frankly, trying to comprehend what she is seeing. She has never seen someone look so feminine, yet…so handsome. Fingers press under her chin, pulling her head gently to the left. Reluctantly, she lets them change her view. Kili is looking down at her, eyeing the rash on her cheek. "I'm fine," she mutters quickly, desperate to turn her attention back to the Elf. Kili's hand drops from her jaw.
"Mithrandir!" the Elf greets.
"Ah, Lindir," Gandalf greets back, his tone relieved. The Elf – Lindir – performs some sort of greeting, placing his arm across his chest then extends into towards Gandalf.
Edyth just overhears Thorin whispering "stay sharp" to Dwalin. Lindir begins speaking to Gandalf once more, in an Elvish language that falls smoother than the waterfalls around them. The Elf looks perplexed at Gandalf's company, but there is no weapon drawn nor order thrown for their deaths yet.
"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf announces.
"My Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir replies. Edyth finally manages to draw her attention away from him to glance to her right to gauge Thorin's composure. Defensive is the word she would use. Weapon in hand, arms crossed, and his chin held low. She glances to her left as well but is only met with Kili's glare towards the Elf. He was not lying when he mentioned his dislike for the Elves.
"Not here? Where is he?"
They only have to wait a moment for their answer to be given. The same horn that they had heard before sounds once more, again, accompanied by the thundering hooves of horses galloping. Their attention snaps around to a different path from the one they took, the Elves on the horses already visible, riding towards them at speed.
"Du Bekar!" The Dwarvish word is not lost on her ears, but its meaning is. The Dwarves react instantly to the order. For the second time that day, Thorin looks threatened. And if he feels threatened, then Edyth surely does too. "Close ranks!"
Immediately Edyth becomes squished between their stout figures. Her glare changes between the Dwarves who tread over her – spiking more pain and discomfort – and the oncoming army of Elves. "O-ow," she murmurs, shoulders barging into hers. But the unease of being in such close quarters becomes an unfamiliar comfort as the company becomes encircled by the riders. The horses trot around them, forming a layered circle, the Elves upon them staring down with scrutinising eyes.
As one, they come to a stop, and a single Elf speaks. "Gandalf!" he greets.
"Lord Elrond," Gandalf smiles. He performs the Elvish style greeting to the dark-haired Elf before speaking to him in the same tongue that Lindir spoke in. Elrond speaks back in the foreign language, withholding the context from the company. Lord Elrond flicks his cloak over the saddle, dismounting and strides up to the Grey Wizard.
"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," he muses, handing his sword over to Lindir. "Something or someone has drawn them near."
"Ah, that may have been us," Gandalf says, gesturing to the company.
Thorin steps forward to Elrond. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," Elrond greets.
"I do not believe we have met," Thorin purrs.
"You have your Grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."
"Indeed? He made no mention of you."
Edyth swallows, feeling sticky under the growing tension of the air. Bilbo has replaced Thorin at her side and the siblings share a look. Elrond begins speaking to Thorin once more, swapping to his native tongue. There is no telling what his words are from tone alone. The Dwarves are extremely unsettled by the Elvish words being spoken to them.
"What is he saying?" Gloin drawls. "Does he offer us insult?!"
A few begin to rile up and Edyth grabs Kili's arm before he can join in. "No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food," Gandalf answers quickly, diffusing the growing anger. The attitude of the company changes completely. They lean into small groups, Edyth becoming the middle of one between Kili, Gloin and Bifur. They mutter to each other quickly, mostly in agreement at the word of food.
Facing Elrond once more, Gloin speaks up again. "Ah. Well, in that case, lead on."
Okay, dragging out a little but my aim is for it to be a nice long read for when it's actually complete.
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