Hey everyone. I am so sorry for my extended leave. I got through my finals and passed everything with C's – which I didn't want, but will accept. Then once I got home for Christmas I got the flu. Yay! Christmas present from nature was being sick… :P
Then I was thrown back to school two weeks early and was put down at work for 40 hours a week. Now school has started once more and I do have a capstone this semester so I have a lot to get done. However, I should be back to my biweekly upload schedule. I may need an extra week this first one, but otherwise I'm good.
Also when I last met with my beta IRL she literally looked at my draft and went 'WHOA, what happened?' Face palm, anyone? She hasn't even been reading on FF either so I asked her permission to give her penname on here so you can go bug her if you want. It's Akeea and I haven't seen her since early December – tell her to come find me on campus. Nice things only please!
Anyway thank you so much everyone for your reviews on the last chapter and my notice. All of your kind words really made my day and is got me through my roughest set of tests ever.
angel897, Christina Fey, Crimson Songstress, Kuroi-Akuma-no-Okami, deafreader, Guest 1, aquakim, crazehfreakbehungreh000, Guest 2, RogueReaper, hermonine, Lexa Silver, Raija22, and Alimol17 – Thank you for the kind words and I hope you like this part!
QueefCream – Thorin I think needs time to process before he vents because I actually kind of like the way he reacted, being stricken with surprise at first and then needing to stew on it. See if in the next chapter I bring out the Thorin you were looking for. I think I had enough time now. XD
Outofthisworldgal – What's a little blackmail between friends? And thank you for the friendly words during a very hectic time in my life.
0x0UnderDog0x0 – 0_0 Do you know my thoughts? Also thank you for the words of encouragement, I hope things go better for you as well.
Lesliezin – XD I'm sure they will once he gets over being mad about the whole thing. Definitely a brooder our beloved dwarf King…
Guest – I'm glad you liked Thorin's scene in all honest I wasn't entirely sure about it considering all the frustrations so I think I might draw his more conflicted thoughts out again in the next chapter.
PrincessSerenity96 – I promise no giving up on this one I just had some things get in my way, but not anymore.
Everyone please be sure to check out QueefCream's story: Lians' Contingency. She just recently completed it and while bittersweet, the ending made it complete.
One of my reviewers from the last chapter is Lesliezin. I absolutely love her Thorin/OC story: A Shadowed Companion. It's a female ranger who follows the company at Gandalf's request. All should read, it's fantastic and I can't wait for the next chapter.
I find myself facing perhaps the hardest decision in my life since I returned from the Grey Mountains. My eyes flicker between the pair of disgruntled elves and the grey wizard who is speaking in hushed tones with his elf friend, Lindir. They are far enough away and so quietly that I cannot even begin to guess what it is they discuss, but from the appearance of the dwarves faces, who are closer, they are likely not speaking Westron. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin have been brought to this meeting, providing an equal distribution between brains and brawns. I think the only reason I'm here is to apologize, and as Gandalf had so kindly mentioned, to keep me out of trouble.
I am leaning against a pillar outside Lord Elrond's personal study trying to decide which one is more annoying: the elves with their pouting lips and cold glares or the wizard with his all-knowing countenance. The elves, at least, were kind enough to show their dislike for my person openly, but the wizard would shoot me dirt looks when he thought I was looking elsewhere.
We are waiting for Lord Elrond to end a meeting with someone…no one had really given a name, but I could sense them through the door. There isn't enough room in the study to contain the magic Galadriel is producing and it has unintentionally spilled over into hallway. However, she is holding back. It seems that only those of us who have met the Pale Lady previously could sense her. Lindir and Gandalf had a moment of tense silence when we had first stopped here. They had glanced at the door and then turned their attention to their conversation. The dwarves and the other two elves remain blissfully ignorant of the powerful being tucked into Elrond's study.
After my encounter with the magic of Mirkwood I had been terrified and still angry with myself for what had happened. For a long while it was all I could think about. However, Tauriel's father had taken me to Lothlorien to help arm myself against the dark magic of Middle Earth. As such I had met the Lady Galadriel and it was with her help my mask had been forged. It protects me from all forms of magic and because of her generosity I never have to fear losing myself like I did in the forest. I am in her debt for the rest of my life…
That seems to happen quite a lot. Morinehtar, Tauriel, Galadriel, Ethon…It seems that I am equally skilled in accumulating a body count as well as debts. From the corner of my eye I see movement, only to find that my hand has unconsciously moved up to my mask. As if sensing my thoughts I could feel the Lothlorien elf flutter around the outskirts of my consciousness, but dare not enter for fear of forsaking the trust I have given her. It took five months in the elvish city before I even dare ask my request not only for fear of judgment, but also because I had feared revealing to her my weakness. I will never forget the first time I met her. I had never been more terrified or more hopeful.
The…encounter with Thorin had been a slight reprieve for the fears of my mind. The elvish magic in the air has now grown with the Lady's presence, and despite that I know she will bring me no harm I cannot help the unease I feel. Why would she be here? Why now?
I sense eyes on my person and I first look up at the elf across from me. It's the one that I had grabbed by the throat and lifted. He has straight blond hair and dark brown eyes, but with the sharp features and otherworldly aura, he easily melds into my memory as just another of his kind; his friend, whom I punched, is behind him, watching Gandalf and Lindir, intently. When we met eyes he glares harder, as if it will intimidate me. Now as I watch him, he shifts anxiously under my gaze. A smug grin works its way onto my face, but remains hidden by my mask. However, even after my small victory I still feel eyes on me. I glance at Gandalf, but his stern gaze is directed at Lindir and both are still deep in conversation. The only other place I have to look is the dwarves and sure enough I find my answer.
Thorin is stuck between the sons of Fundin with his arms crossed over his chest. Dwalin and Balin had taken to Gandalf's tactic and switched over to speaking in Khuzdul, but they miss Thorin's silent glare in my direction altogether. He seems to be studying me, but the scrutiny hardly affects me. If anything it is actually…comforting. After the amount of time I have spent under his watchful eyes it has almost become a state of normalcy for me, but whether or not Thorin could tell if it brought me ease I couldn't discern. It has been a good while since anyone had tried to keep an eye on me. I think Tauriel's father, Hadrien, had been the last…What I wouldn't give to have a few more minutes to talk with him. When we left the Greenwood we spoke of all things under the sun and he always gave me the best advice…talked about the things I would never have the chance to talk with my parents…
The blue wizard had also watched over me, but his gaze always made me feel as though I were…inadequate. Like everything I did would never be enough. As if the years I spent training and the blood, sweat, and tears I had put into my training is never what he wanted from me. Even now I'm not sure why I think that, but it's just how I feel. In the ranger camps we certainly looked out for each other out of a sense of brotherhood, even our mentors did their best to make sure they did not look down on us, but to teach us. Ethon and I always had each other. Every mission and every training exercise we did together. I think he is the first person I ever opened up to after I left Thoth. He thought of me like family – a better one than he was given. I never understood that way of thinking because I'm pretty sure I make a horrible sister, but only Aceia could confirm that.
I lock eyes with Thorin and I wonder what he thinks of me. I don't think I have disappointed him, but there is certainly no show of brotherhood there either. My mouth cannot prevent itself from breaking into a smile and a small flush filling my cheeks. I don't think Thorin could ever be a "brother" after what happened. Of course when I consider our relationship we could never have the familial feel I have with Ethon, or even his nephews. In Thorin's eyes…I am something else all together.
"Poled teilia andhir?" asks the elf I caught staring. I break eye contact with Thorin to stare coldly at him. I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I prefer to remain ignorant in light of the fact that we are supposed to apologize to one another shortly. I can't believe that after the extended silence between us, his balls decide to make an appearance just now.
"Man?" I return calmly with a raised eyebrow; one of his own eyebrows quirks slightly at my response. I can feel my annoyance developing into severe distaste for the willowy male.
"Cardh teilia raegbe di sin naugrim?" he asks smugly. Apparently he had interpreted my question as a confession and stated it more to irritate me than to restate the question. He is trying to get a rise out of me, definitely jesting about my behavior from the previous night, but he may be even trying to intimidate me; as though he would tattle to my mother. But she's dead and now he is just making me angry. The dwarves shift closer, unconsciously, as the small noise in the back of my throat escapes my pursed lips.
"Uan care i theilin," I growl back. I don't play games with the lives of people. I don't find joy in manipulating others or having power over them. The words 'Because I can' come to mind, though not in Westron. The black garbled language of the orcs seeps into the back of my mind, but I quickly crush it. I am not like that. I am not playing with the dwarves and this arrogant ass needs to learn his place. At first I think my short and terse comment is enough to stop him, but I am wrong.
"Caro heniawen man cuildh?" he responds. Now I slowly release the snarl from the back of my throat. While my body tenses, I do not move from my spot. Lindir and Gandalf are now watching our conversation cautiously and for good reason. This is what Gandalf wanted to prevent, but there seems to be a good chance that I may actually end up getting in worse trouble by killing the damn elf and being done with it.
How does one apologize to an elf lord for killing one of their subjects for being absolutely annoying? I would much rather apologize for murder to the elf lord than this whelp at this point. The elf behind him whispers something into his ear, but his friend brushes him off. In the mean time Dwalin has seen my tension and now stands between the elf and I with a hand on one of his axe handles.
"Oakenshield polhon dae noen," I claim. With Thorin's name now thrown into the mangle of elvish words Dwalin's grip tightens on the axe. They know that we speak of him and I pretty sure anything else that comes out of his mouth will sound like an insult at this point. Even Balin, the calm and more collected of us, is starting to look a little agitated.
"Hanhon anpenestel sennui innauth mein," he says nonchalantly. In an instant I push myself off the pillar I had been leaning on and make a half step towards the pale elf. He instinctively shrinks back towards his darker-haired friend. Gandalf blocks the dwarves' view of the elf and to prevent Dwalin from drawing his axe fully while Lindir admonishes the other two. I don't break eye contact with the elf's form, but he cannot seem to meet my gaze. I can't stop the heavy sensation in my stomach that stems from the tight coil my body has taken on in preparation for a fight.
"That is enough, Kalar," says the wizard. "We are here to attain some semblance of peace. You have no reason to start stirring up trouble." I still don't look at the wizard. I watch the elf like a predator as I wait for either Lindir or Gandalf to step aside.
"I have done nothing. You heard him," I say with my teeth grinding. "Do you expect me to sit idle as he makes his jabs?" There is a small huff of agreement from one of the dwarves beside me, but I am not quite sure which one.
"I expect you to act like an adult and not like some discourteous youth," says the wizard. "Nilmal is only two hundred years old and has never set foot outside the valley. You should know better than to behave so brashly."
I now look away from my prey to look the wizard in the eye, but I cannot bring any words to my lips at first. Did I really seem old enough to Gandalf to be above his behavior? I suppose I must have for the rangers to have trained me; they have no place for children amongst their ranks. Even then, the thought that Gandalf, of all people, has an expectation of me is rather flattering. It's not every day that a wizard holds you to a standard.
"While I am honored you think so highly of me Gandalf," I say more calmly, though sarcastically. "And I will do my best to hold a more even temperament; I must also remind you that I am quite young myself. If you wish to consider this nothing more than childish behavior then go ahead, but I know I am not the one purposefully aggravating anyone."
I allow my body to unfurl from my tense position and reclaim my spot along the side of the post. My dwarrow friends remain tense, but stay close to me as I return to my position. I keep my gaze level with the wizard's light blue eyes as my anger dissipates. His eyes soften a little and I can't help feeling he may have actually forgotten just how old I am. He drops the conversation with a quick nod and turns towards the entrance to the hallway. I see movement in my peripheral and look in the same direction. The small hobbit has just shuffled in, having some trouble shutting the large elven doors.
"Ah, Bilbo," says the wizard fondly, "Glad you decided to join us. How did you enjoy the Hall of Fire?" The halfling looks up at the wizard with a lingering wonder in his eyes. I can feel a small smile tugging at my lips at his obvious enjoyment. Most hobbits, from what I have heard, are very reserved and hardly curious, but Bilbo seems to be the exception to the rule. The courage it must have taken to sign the contract is nothing to ignore, neither is the levelheadedness he maintained during the encounter with the trolls. He even managed to keep up as we ran through the rolling hills outside the valley to escape the orc pack. This hobbit is certainly more than meets the eye.
"It was stunning, Gandalf. The elves have a rendition of Beren and Luthien that is simply amazing," he says enthusiastically. I feel my eyes roll in my head; of course it had to be a love story…
"Bah," grumbles Dwalin grumpily, "Couldn't have been that good."
"The halfling, if you recall, has never been further than Frog Morton until this venture. I'm sure the elves are quite impressive in the eyes of one so green," I say. I roll my shoulders slightly as I try to regain a more comfortable position against the stone at my back. I also thoroughly enjoy the angry looks coming from the two elves. "Cut him some slack, Dwalin." At my words Dwalin relaxes a little more than he had been previously, but still mutters something under his breath that I cannot hear. Gandalf looks like he wants to comment, likely on my leniency, but an unexpected question emerges.
"Do our stories not entertain, good ranger?" asks Lindir. He seems genuine in his question as though he may accommodate me better, but I won't be satisfied until the magic of the valley is well and truly behind my back.
"Love stories have never really been a favorite of mine is all," I comment carelessly. "I much prefer the tales of Elaramir, the only elf to ever cross the Wastelands of the Rhun; or perhaps the tale of Gigan, who made his home at the top of the mountain so that he might mine the stars."
"Children's tales," sneers Nilmal across the way. Lindir gives him a pointed look before looking back at me. His eyes are alight with curiosity and if I had been looking at others I would have noticed they shared the look.
"Gigan originally went to the top of the mountain to bring back a star to prove to Durin the Fourth that he was worthy of his daughter's hand. Elaramir only went to the east because it had been his love's dying wish; and after returning to spin his tale, he took to the Gray Havens to follow her," counters Lindir.
"Aye," I concede. "The best stories are spun from good motivations. However, I detest lamenting one's love, which is probably why neither story has both lovers in one place together longer than a few moments."
"Do you not believe in love?" asks Bilbo from the sidelines. I look at him now and he holds my gaze. It is very unlike when we first met, when he couldn't hold my gaze. He is becoming surer of himself…
"I know it exists, but I can't stand hearing about it. Adults romanticize it far too much and children hold their tales like scripture. They grow up looking for something similar never knowing that it takes work to achieve. Nothing in life is ever that clear or painless. Since when is love ever perfect…" I end rather bitterly, even to my own ears.
My words seem to sober most of our party and put them in rather reflective moods. I actually feel a little shame for having killed the moment, especially when the hobbit's face softens as he looks at me. I can see the pity there, but it is more like a caring glance. A tender look that pierces my heart; how can someone I barely know concern themselves so much? I should remember to keep my mouth shut. Before anything else can be said an attendant opens the door to Elrond's study.
"Lord Elrond is ready to receive you."
I break my eye contact with Bilbo to watch the elf return to the study and in chance of spotting Lady Galadriel. However, Gandalf swiftly strides forward and blocks any view I may have of the room. He is likely trying to set the proper mood and take control of the situation before it has a chance to go awry. I don't mind as I begin to realize Galadriel's presence has left the vicinity. The elves go in next both of them watching me cautiously even though I have no intention of moving on them now. Dwalin follows behind them, placing himself between the elves and his king as well as providing a buffer from the elves. Thorin and Balin follow him leaving me to cover the rear. Thorin throws me a quick and dark glance, indicating his displeasure at my placement, but I ignore him; because beyond that it is an immense compliment from Dwalin that he trusts me to watch their backs. Bilbo just falls in beside me, trying to keep up with my long strides.
Upon passing through the large doors I discover that the study also doubles as a solar. Part of the roof is glass allowing the noon sun to filter in. There is a balcony out another doorway, which is presently open and allowing in a warm breeze. The rest of the room is made of beautifully carved stone walls forming bookshelves, columns, and murals. There is a second level leading to a more private balcony that allows an overlook of the rest of the valley. The woodwork makes up the railing and some posts. The walls are painted a comforting light green color, which combined with the incoming sunlight, produces a natural feel to the room.
The book shelves house books of all languages with unlit torches and candelabras standing at attention on either side of a shelf and along the columns. The upper floor has a couple tapestries, but I cannot make out of what, for they are too far away. To one side is a wooden desk littered with scrolls and smaller candles for nighttime use. There is an array of drinks lined against another surface. One is tea, another appears to be wine, and then water in a simple chalice. If the cold tea is anything to go by they had been there a while. The thought of the elf lord being so absorbed in his studies that he forgets to drink his tea makes him seem…more human. Elves never forget anything, a curse of living for so long. It is something so mundane and unelvish, but I like him better for it.
A waft of incense burns through my nose and my eyes follow the breeze. Lord Elrond sits in a chair away from his desk with incense burning beside him. I pin the scent down as Cedar as we approach the elf lord. Gandalf watches him with a guarded expression on his features and the elves, Lindir included, take their place beside him to wait patiently for him to acknowledge them. I stand behind the dwarves who look uncomfortable standing in the middle of the study waiting for the Elrond to address them. Despite our entrance the half elven does not look at us, at first I think he is ignoring us, but upon a second glance there is a hooded look in his eyes. He winces as though someone had been very loud all of a sudden, but he cannot hear us and he does not see us.
Foresight…
The Lady Galadriel's voice flitters along the edges of my mind; not invasive, but close. My body tenses naturally as it always does when something encroaches on my mind; the lady means me no ill will, but Mirkwood left me more scarred than I would care to admit. Now knowing what is occurring I can recognize the distant look in his eyes as he searches for whatever he seeks. Regardless of my unease, the lady's warning doesn't lose any of its meaningfulness. If the elvish lord truly bears the gift of foresight then it is likely that he already knows what our purpose east truly is. Perhaps he had foreseen our arrival to his valley…
My eyes glance up at the wizard and I feel a little guilty now for having blamed Gandalf initially for telling the elves of our arrival. There is a chance he had not told the elves, but they had seen it. That would explain how Elrond's company knew where to go to fight the orc pack that had been following us, rather than the camp we had set up before running into the trolls. Even if Gandalf had magically made it to Rivendell, he couldn't have known about the orc pack. He didn't even know Radagast had left the Greenwood until he appeared suddenly.
After a few moments of silence Gandalf spoke up, "My Lord Elrond?"
His words return the elf to the present, but it takes him a moment to shake off whatever visions he has seen. His eyes glance throughout the room, making note of his audience, but more often than not his eyes stray to Thorin. I am beginning to realize that Elrond's foresight may be dangerous. If he looks at what may lie ahead for us he may not allow us to leave his realm or worse; he may warn Thranduil of our intent.
"Forgive me," he says. "I didn't mean to be so distant."
"Not at all, Lord Elrond," says Gandalf in a friendly manner.
"Apology accepted," answers Thorin in a gruff manner. I have to stifle the laughter in my throat as Gandalf sends Thorin a look that seems as sharp as a sword. It seems that while Thorin may be civil to the Lord of Rivendell, his own impatience would be the one ruling on the words that escaped him. Lord Elrond didn't even seem to notice Thorin's rude behavior.
"Now," the half-elven states, "I believe an exchange of apologies is in order. Allow me to be the first?" Thorin gives him permission with a nod of his head and so Elrond continues, "I ask that you forgive my lapse of judgment in not informing you about the ponies and the supplies we found. We sought to investigate further before mentioning it just in case the orcs had chased another party in need of our help. I should have asked you first Lord Oakenshield if they were yours and for that I do apologize, but I hope you can understand why I made no assumptions."
I am impressed. Lord Elrond's humble nature and sincere apologies are not lost on me. He is…not what I expected. His magical aura, while strong, doesn't drown my senses and his emotions read plainly upon his face. He is reserved, but not nearly as unreadable as Galadriel. On a personal level, I accept the apology for it seems like a valid reason and the regret is sincere; the words themselves are polite and properly addressed. However, it had to meet Thorin's approval.
The said dwarf nods his head and plainly states, "I do understand and the apology is humbly accepted." For a moment I thought he would choke on those last couple of words. I struggle with another bout of laughter clawing at my throat. The stubbornness of dwarves amuses me so…
Feeling the need to quickly end the awkward and painful air in the study, I turn to the elves next to Lindir. They look at me expectantly, so I answer them with a small smile hidden beneath the mask, from the struggle of not laughing at Thorin earlier.
"I also apologize. My behavior was brash, violent, and for the most part unnecessary." A few eyebrows, mostly elves, rose at that statement. "I thought to be defending comrades from ill intent, but now I can now see that it was…childish of me."
My reference to our earlier conversation causes Gandalf to send a small smile my way. However, the pair of elves are struggling to accept my apology as Thorin had with accepting Lord Elrond's. For a moment, I don't think they are going to accept, but with a couple hard looks from Lindir and Elrond they concede.
"We accept your apology," says the one I had punched. It is in a pinched tone, but acceptance nonetheless. He looks over at his companion for confirmation and when he doesn't respond he nudges him. This forces a hiss of, "Yes," from the elf's lips.
"Good," says Gandalf with a smile. "Then the matter is settled."
"Actually," I says garnering the attention of the whole room and bowing my head, "I would like to extend my apology to Lord Elrond. I apologize for my actions because they infringe on the generosity you have given us. The blades you have gifted us with are rightfully the heirlooms of your people, but you give them to us freely out of goodwill. On top of that you have provided my friends with shelter and food. Neither sentiment is lost to us, so I thank you and apologize for any insult I may have brought you."
I'm sure the dwarves aren't very appreciative of my display, but I am compelled to do it. For all the elves I have met I could count the number of ones I could trust in one hand; Lord Elrond, for all his magical wiles, could be another. A heartbeat of silence passes before dark haired elf nods his head in my direction. "I accept. Though that part of the apology is more customary to be given by Lord Oakenshield; I had honestly not expected it at all."
A snort makes its way out of Dwalin, but before anyone can erupt, I jump in, "I firmly believe that an individual is responsible for their own actions. Kings and Lords are normally held accountable for the deeds of their subjects, but I hope you will not hold it against Thorin. I acted impulsively on my own. None should have to suffer for my choices."
Another moment passes and Elrond speaks again, "That is a noble gesture and an admirable outlook, but keep in mind that not everyone will see it that way. Especially when others do suffer for your choices…"
My head, which had remained bowed until this point, lifts so that I can make eye contact with the elven lord. His dark brown eyes are gentle, but firm – I had seen that look a few times before when people are trying to see if I understood something. However, his message is lost on me and I begin to feel a little annoyed. I know he is right, with the powers I am capable of wielding my choices could easily cause irreparable damage; this means he must be aware of my powers. It is just aggravating to know that he has seen my future and it terrifies me, not knowing what it might be.
"I will keep it in mind," I grit out. Despite the finality in my voice, our eye contact doesn't break. We continue to look at one another. I'm glaring on my part, trying to show my resistance in the matter, while the half elven benevolently searches my eyes for understanding. The moment ends when Thorin cuts in.
"Is there anything more you wish to discuss or would you rather waste the day away criticizing my ranger?" he asks angrily.
After that comment, I feel my eyebrow rise. Dwarves are possessive by nature, though usually in defense of what is theirs. When did I become something worth defending to Thorin? I had thought that the revelation of my true self would have made him angry, which I'm not surprised if he is silently resenting me; but maybe he thought me his responsibility now that he knows the full truth. At that thought, a snort threats to unleash itself, but Thorin's wrath is not worth the trouble so I hold it in. If he thought I would become a burden after everything I had already done for him, the raven haired dwarf is sorely mistaken.
"There is another matter I had hoped to address," says Lord Elrond as he stands to move about the room. "Nilmal. Delelas. You are free to leave."
The two elves bow to their lord before slipping out of the room. As this occurs I find myself eyeing Thorin curiously. I still wonder where the earlier statement had come from, but I find myself facing a mask of indifference and annoyance. I glance at Balin and Dwalin, but they don't even look surprised by Thorin's words, as if they are a natural occurrence. Instead, the dwarves watch the elf lord with caution.
"Gandalf told me you came seeking advice," says the elven lord, "What would you ask of me?"
Gandalf tries to be the first to respond, but Thorin beats him to it, "We already have our answers and your hospitality is more than enough. We actually plan to leave on the morrow and would be willing pay you for supplies before we take our leave."
"Setting out so soon?" asks Lord Elrond. "Might I inquire as to what requires such haste?" His inquiry bitingly reminds me of Tauriel's questions I faced the night before.
"You may not," addresses Balin. "These are matters of the sons of Durin…" he glances at me and Bilbo, "And our associates." This would also include the Ur family, but I doubt the elves would really know the difference.
"Very well then," says Lord Elrond. He says not looking at us, but leaning on a hand on his desk. His eyes rove over a map, of which I can only see the corner. From what I can tell there appears to be mountains. When his hand leaves to turn to us I can also see the forests of the east. My fists clench as I realize that the elven lord has been looking into maps of the east. Elrond reconnects his eye contact with Thorin, "However, I would like the answer I was promised earlier. What reason have you for travelling along the Great East Road?"
"The dwarves only wish to visit their kin in the east," Gandalf tosses out. It's the same excuse I had given Tauriel the day before and I can't help wondering if there is a chance he may have over heard me. It's not likely, but I can't help the grim satisfaction that stems from the fact that the wizard isn't above producing half-truths of his own; even to his wonderful elf friend. "Is that truly so strange?"
"Nay," answers the elf. "Not at all strange…except for the fact that an emissary from the Iron Hills just travelled the mountain pass to return home within this year. Apparently, they were returning from a meeting in Ered Luin. Were you unaware of your kin's presence in the West?" asks Lord Elrond pointedly.
I begin shifting my weight between my feet nervously. Gloin had only mentioned the meeting of their kin – mostly the obvious outcome – in passing. I had no idea that it had been so recent. For being longer-lived creatures dwarves are really showing their most defining trait – impatience. However, I find it odd that in my travels I heard nothing about the traversing of Ironfoot in the West. They must have been well hidden, if the shock on the faces of the dwarves are anything to go by. Leave it to the elves to know everything about your business.
"Of course," answers Gandalf, taking the situation in stride. "Thorin was in attendance of the meeting. As you know Lord Dain has offered his halls as a home to all who have escaped the dragon's fire. And these few have kin amongst those and wish to visit them."
I eye the wizard with a cold glare. I can't tell if that is a half-truth or a lie. Perhaps some did have family in the Iron Hills, but it seems unlikely. Dain may be Thorin's cousin, but what about the others. The simple idea of dwarves splitting up, especially kin, seems unnatural. I think of the bonds the dwarves share and I cannot picture them willingly being separated.
If the relationship between Fili and Kili are anything to go by, separating them would be like losing a limb. Oin, despite that he can be annoyed with his younger brother, speaks very highly of Gloin's little boy at home, Gimli. One day I had been riding next to him when he had commented to Dori that his favorite pastime was purposefully mishearing the little lad just so that he would stay with his old uncle and repeat it to him several times. It was just a rouse so he could spend time with him…and to watch Gimli's face go red. Bofur and Bombur are also close with their cousin. Bifur spoke little on our journey so far, but he always has a small smile to share with his cousins. Whatever troubles that had befallen Bifur in his life; he clearly shared with the other two Firebeards. I cannot…I cannot picture any of them willing being separated by distance. Dori has mild panic attacks when Ori is gone for too long and while Dwalin will never admit it, he watches his older brother constantly for any signs of fatigue. I'm not sure if it had ever been that way for me and my family…
My parents of course were the most important people growing up, along with my cousin and her family. My heart actually aches a little as I think of my cousin, Aceia. She is couple years older than me and greatly resembles my mother. Growing up together had been a little difficult because she was born a mute. Most other children didn't know Nezkish in the village, but I strived to speak with her because I loved seeing her smile when we "spoke". She is actually the only reason I learned Nezkish in the first place.
My mother never intended to have children because of the more delicate state it would place her in. She didn't want to have to rely on anyone to take care of her; if orcs were to attack she wanted to only worry about herself and her husband. She also thought that since babies couldn't defend themselves, they make a quick snack for orcs; so why even bother. The only reason I'm here is because my father had begged…
With that in mind it was clear to my father that I would never receive any siblings, so my cousin became the sister I could never have. She is a patient and gentle girl, very much the opposite of me growing up. Her disability made it difficult to make many friends so she actually spent more time in the library and the blood orange groves, depending on the season. I would join her and we would read about dwarves, rangers, the Valar; anything we could get our hands on really. And in turn she would show up at my weapons training from time to time.
I last time I saw her, she was blossoming into a beautiful woman in the city of Thoth. She had been starting to receive suitors, but had yet to court anyone. Her father watches her with a very careful eye seeing as she seems to wear her heart on her sleeve. It would hurt her later if she wasn't careful. Extended life usually goes hand in hand with the golden eyes, but there are very few humans with our kind of longevity. Other races on the other hand…
"I do not believe you." Lord Elrond's words cut through my reverie. "Never before have I seen a journey with need for such speed, security, or secrecy. I am well aware that your goal is to enter the Lonely Mountain."
Troll shit! Could we not receive any leniency? Trolls, orcs, and wargs are unexpected hurtles we could manage, but now the elf lord is going to hinder us further; and he has a valley of sprites at his command. Are Eru and Aule conspiring against us? Did they not want us to make it to the thrice damned mountain?
"Even if that were the case it's none of yer damn business," answers Dwalin with a puffed up chest.
"Anything that may incur the dragon's wrath on the whole of Middle Earth is certainly my business," replies Elrond with a hard, flat tone.
"Your kind didn't see it that way almost two centuries ago," growls Thorin.
Lord Elrond's tight facial expression loosens slightly. I know he is not the one responsible for the plights of Thorin's people, but he is kind enough to look guilty.
"Thranduil's treatment of you people was deplorable and the grief they have experienced should not be taken lightly," says he half-elven. "But you cannot be allowed to awaken Smaug for I fear the destruction that will follow. I am sorry."
"You dare keep us here as prisoners?" demands Thorin angrily.
"No, but this Valley and the High Pass are closed to you," says Lord Elrond. "I will happily arrange an escort to return you to the Blue Mountains if you wish."
This is a problem. We no longer have access through the High Pass if Rivendell closes the entrance off to us. Despite that the mountains are ruled by the elements and goblins that lingered after the Dwarf-Orc war, Lord Elrond now holds the key for us to enter them. There are other ways to get there, but further north are the Ettenmoors, Gundabad, and the ruins of the kingdom of Angmar. The ancient evil and dark creatures that roamed the northern lands are ones that I would rather not face during my lifetime if at all possible. I'm sure the others would agree that this option is too dangerous – it wouldn't do to charge into danger unnecessarily.
As for the south, the first pass we could reach is Moria, but I know we could not go there. Not only was there a small nest of orc and goblins still crawling through the halls, but the pain it would bring the dwarves might be overwhelming. Even further south was Dunland and we might be able to pass through Isengard, if the White Wizard allowed. However, it is far too close to Mordor for comfort and I would really rather go the rest of my lifetime not meeting another wizard. Another hint that this might be a bad idea is the fact that Gandalf hasn't offered this as a possible solution. Perhaps he and Saruman are not on the best of terms.
"We are a free people of this world and you do not decide where we can and cannot go," growls Balin. It is quite strange to hear the gentle and more subdued member of our company growling at the elf lord. "You cannot tell us that we may not continue. This is our right and it is our home."
The word home reminds me of my conversation from yesterday…and I suddenly have an idea. Elrond's face is still drawn, but sympathetic; a look that has Dwalin getting ready to step in and combust. Rather than set the whole arrangement up in flames I grip his shoulder to prevent him from speaking and I look at Thorin. He is watching me with a guarded expression. I try to express what I mean through my eyes, I even add a nod for good measure. He holds my gaze for a moment before he nods in consent, but doesn't maintain eye contact.
"No," I answer the elf Lord, "We do not need an escort. We have prepared for such an eventuality. If you will not let us through the High Pass then we will leave and find another way." I can feel the stares the dwarves place on me. "We will leave as soon as we are able. Just because you will not allow us through doesn't mean we will stop searching for another way." The dwarves balk at my solution, giving into the elf lord's ultimatum; they are blissfully unaware that I have no intent of letting him push us around. The harsh gaze I receive from Thorin is enough to know that he may very well kill me if I didn't explain myself soon.
The seer is silent a moment, but nods his head gravely, "As you wish." He turns away from the rest of us, looking outside as he adds, "I am sure you and your companions have plans that need to be made. I will not hold you any longer."
It is as polite of a dismissal as we could hope for. As we move towards the door I see my companions shooting me confused looks, Bilbo included. He even seems a little hurt, like the progress we had made makes him sad to know we would have to backtrack. Gandalf on the other had looks quite pleased; with what? He supposedly is the one who proposed this venture to Thorin, but now he is happy with the impeding of our progress? I would never understand wizards. For now I let the dour expressions slide off my back; they would be thanking me shortly.
"A moment, Gandalf," calls Elrond before we can make it through the door. I look back over my shoulder at the wizard who had been following us. He casts a glance at me and for a moment I can see Morinehtar, with his clever mind reflecting in his eyes. He shoots me a wink; did he know what I plan to do? Bilbo didn't miss the look while the others walk out the door he had stayed behind to look at his wizard friend. When did this shift start to happen? When did the wizard start to trust me with something as important as the safety of the company or our mission? The first day he told me that his only concern was for this company and that he wouldn't allow me to threaten that; did he see something about me that changed his mind or is he just that desperate?
The wizard then turns and returns to his elvish friend. Bilbo and I continue out the door to find the dwarves lingering in the hallway, exchanging loud banter in Khuzdul. It would seem that I have left them to stew over my words for too long. I come up behind Thorin and place a hand on his shoulder. For a moment they all tense and then turn their angry eyes on me. However, before Dwalin can speak, for he appears ready to erupt at any moment, I place a finger over where my lips would be. I continue walking, motioning them to follow me. A moment later I hear their footsteps following me. I find a small alcove that will work well enough for us – it is midday and likely that most of the elves are eating their luncheon, and even if they aren't the weather is beautiful; they are probably frolicking among the trees somewhere. When the others enter they seem to notice the privacy I have sought, but dwarves are dwarves.
"What in the Maker's Halls was that?!" demands Dwalin loudly.
"Lad, you can't be serious?" asks Balin, unsure.
Once I am sure we are alone, I drop to one knee so that I wouldn't have to look down, but also so that I didn't have to speak so loudly.
"I'm not that daft," I start to loosen the mood, "I would never turn us back after we have come so far, but elves are very crafty and too aware for their own good." The comment is directed at the fact that Elrond knew about Ironfoot crossing the Misty Mountains, regardless of its secrecy. "We need them to let their guard down as much as possible." With that comment the anger drains from them and is instead replaced with a firmer, but brighter countenance.
"What did ya have in mind?" rumble Dwalin. His voice is now much quieter as we discuss our plans.
"Elrond knows we aren't happy with his decision, but if I told him we had given up entirely he would have been suspicious. By saying that we plan to leave as soon as possible, which Thorin kindly pointed out would be the morrow, they will suspect nothing as we gather our supplies," I explain.
"When do we leave?" asks Balin excitedly.
"At moon high," I answer. "I need a chance to read the map, but there may also be another riddle and I might need a little time."
"Tonight?" restates Bilbo, confused.
"Yes," I answer. "Elves have great eyesight, but in the dark it is not as good the dwarves. We will have the advantage. Sadly, Master Baggins you and I will have to make due."
"Don't you worry about that, lad," croons Balin. "We won't let anything befall either of ya."
"How are we going to get the supplies? We are really low and surely the elves will not give us what we need for travelling the mountains, but to return the way we came. How do we get those?" asks the hobbit.
"You and Nori are going to be in charge of that," I reply. "Recruit Fili and Kili if you have to – they can always say they are looking for more wine." This releases a small chuckle from each of the sons of Fundin. Bilbo looks a little unsure, but nods. "Don't worry, little master. This is much better burglary practice than trying to get ponies away from trolls."
The small smile I have for him is lost behind the mask, but he seems to understand the comfort I'm trying to provide and returns it regardless. I turn to Balin, "Make sure the lads are well rested – we need to make great speed to avoid the elves pursuit into the pass. Once the map is read we will make a break for it."
"And how," starts Thorin, "Is it we are escaping?"
It is the first time he has directly spoken to me since the moment in the washroom. I can hear the angry prodding and doubt in his question, but I ignore it. He is definitely resentful, and bitter it would seem. I don't miss the pointed looks coming from the sons of Fundin as they look between us.
"You have your tasks and our way will be set once I complete mine," I answer.
"Which is?" asks Thorin with a sneer.
"I am going to secure us an escape route," I reply simply.
I did my best with the translations once more, but if you think I did it wrong let me know. Also please judge me harshly for my impression of Lord Elrond, elves are hard for me to write if you can't tell, and I'm always happy with a little bit of criticism.
Translations:
Poled teilia andhir? = Is it fun for you?
Man = What?
Cardh teilia raegbe di sin naugrim? = Do you enjoy playing with these dwarves?
Uan care i theilin = I don't play games.
Caro heniawen man cuildh? = Do they know what you are?
Oakenshield polhon dae noen = Oakenshield is well aware.
Hanhon anpenestel sennui innauth mein = Then he lacks more honor than I originally thought.
Next time: Tahna's plan, Thorin tells, and Bilbo has had enough of this nonsense…