I'm finally getting better about posting but, to those who forgot what happened in the story I ask that you reread the story before you leave it; if you can't I have no hard feelings if you unfollow. Hopefully, you can read it after I complete it. Thank you for giving my writing love while I had a hard time loving anything really.
NOTE: I know that PJ created the gems of Lasgalen to portray tensions between the elves and dwarves instead of the Silmaril storyline with Thringol. It may not be in the book, but I want to use this too. I like it!
Anyway! Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! And a special thank you to reviewers. Every kind word is appreciated – and constructive criticism is welcome.
decadenceofmysoul, angel9507, An Echo In Time – Thank you so much for the kind words and I hope you enjoy this part.
ChelseaSW6 – You are so right. Thranduil is never in the giving vein. However, if there is one plus side he is too lazy to purposefully incite violence. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
dragonegyptianblue – Yeah they were in there for a while. My dad taught us some basics in survival and the rest I needed to research, but I thought it would be fun to expand on for our favorite dwarves. As for the Elvenking he has a few things up his sleeve…
angel897 – Thanks for the kind words! I hope you're ready for this one!
I've decided to do a story recommendations corner for my lovely friends here on FF. Cherrybombb has requested some Fili and Kili stories this time around and I will be happy to oblige. I'm gonna do one of each; let me know if you need more!
Vargavinter: Dwarf Gold (The Cautiousness of Hanah Skinner). (Fili/OC) *Complete*
greenspace: Wanted Dead or Alive. (Kili/OC) *Complete*
Infinityscripts: The Days That Have Passed (Thorin/OC) *Complete*
Thorin knows they are in deep trouble when they see the faded stone walls of the Elven Kingdom. It is carved in the side of a small limestone hill; the design is simple and it is well hidden behind the few trees that grow along the far side of the river. Even guards at the gate blend in by hiding next to the trees. He hesitates when his boots land on the stone bridge, he looks back to the elf holding his ranger. He can just barely make out her head turning toward him, probably trying to see where they are going. He doesn't have long to look before an elf gives him a hard shove forward. The bridge crosses over the rushing rapids of the Forest River, cruelly reminding Thorin just how parched he is. The dwarves continue forward in single file through the gates.
"Holo in ennyn!" calls Legolas.
As the gate slams shut, Thorin's heart begins to sink. It has been over a century since his last visit to the Woodland realm and despite his hatred for the kingdom's occupants he is somewhat moved by the beauty of the Halls. It is a blend of stone and wood; segments of polished marble and ancient wood so dense it stood like stone. There are pockets of natural light streaming down from above, highlighting the beauty of the palace. Thorin would never say these praises out loud, but it only made him ache more for Erebor, whose magnificence makes this kingdom look like a fancy hobbit hole. A small smile crosses his face as he wonders what Bilbo would say to that. The thought is short-lived when they cross a bridge and Tauriel stops with the ranger beginning to come to her senses.
"Tauriel?" Tahna asks. Her voice cuts through the silence of the group and everyone halts. It doesn't escape his notice that the she-elf pulls her closer to her chest. The Prince of the Greenwood walks back to Tauriel. She almost looks suspicious of her prince and watches him with unease. She is protective of Tahna.
"Anede anim. Iara innas tirae hi," says the Sindar elf. He extends his arms, but despite his words the she elf hesitates. "Tauriel…" he prods gently. She takes a moment before finally placing her gently in his arms. Thorin's can feel the fear fluttering around in his stomach anxiously; he knows what's about to happen.
"Namae die?" she asks her prince. His eyes soften a little and he adjusts the ranger into a more comfortable position.
"Gwestaim," he replies. She nods her head and falters before stepping away from the pair, returning to the front of the line, guiding the dwarves. "Mabi naugrim dadan igador. Iminnas pedan abdh." Thorin rears when he notices that Legolas takes Thana down one path while the dwarrow are lead down another.
"Where are you taking her?" Thorin demands. Tauriel looks over at him as he struggles against his bonds, but quickly looks away. The rest of the company now realizes that Tahna's care has switch hands and the elf is disappearing down a different route with their companion. All of them resist their captors in an attempt to reach their friend; none more so than the Princes of Erebor.
"TAHNA! NAMAD!"
The boys shout in hopes of her hearing them, but very quickly she disappears and the elves push them even further down into the underground kingdom. Tauriel doesn't force anyone, but remains silent to their treatment. Thorin makes them fight every step of the way. The cuff of a metal vambrace hits him more than once, but he ignores the pain; panic is settling in his body. They could kill her; they will kill her eventually. He might never see her again. The other's feel much the same and follow his example. Most of the elves force them forward every step of the way, but not the captain. Tahna had called her Tauriel; it is something Thorin makes a note of.
Though it took far longer than expect they eventually reach the dungeons. The dwarves are separated and stripped of their armor; left in nothing but their tunics, breeches, and boots. Luckily, Dwalin causes a distraction that allows Thorin to hide the key and map in his boots after it had been searched. All weapons are seized, even the last of Fili's knives. Most of the company are forcibly shoved into the cells when they make a final attempt to push back; it ends with metal bars begin shut loudly in their faces.
The last is Kili, being locked away by Tauriel. Rather than force her hand he walks into his cell on his own, but faces her quickly. "Tauriel, please tell me what are they going to do to her; to Tahna. She's my sister…I need to know."
Thorin watches the exchange now with extreme interest. He can see pain evident on the elleth's face. He finds it odd that her emotions are plain on her face. She is connected to Tahna somehow, but Thorin doesn't know how. From what he's seen she like elves about as much as the rest of the company, but maybe this one is special…
"It's the king's decision," she says sadly. "I can't interfere no matter how much I want to…I'm sorry." Her last words are so quiet you almost couldn't hear it over the sound of his cell closing. His disappointed eyes follow her as she leaves.
She passes by Thorin's cell and in a moment of panic he takes hold of her arm. It is mistaken as an attack and one of the guards strikes his arm. He reels back.
"Farn!" she exclaims. "You are dismissed. Belior and Hundel will remain on watch. Cardh henia?"
He bows his head and walks away. When he is finally gone she turns back towards Thorin. He looks up at her from the cell. He would beg nothing from an elf, not even for Tahna, but he could see the struggle in her eyes and perhaps he could utilize that.
"There is always a choice," he says. "Your race has made many mistakes when it comes to doing nothing." She looks a little offended, but doesn't jump to their defense. "Do not be like them. Be better than them. If you do nothing you will regret it for the rest of your eternal life."
It isn't a threat, but a fact. She stares at him and him at her. Both of them have a stake in this; Tahna means something to both of them. She looks like she means to say something, but someone Thorin cannot see calls her name and she leaves. Across the way he can see his nephew trying to throw his shoulder into his cell door. He could hear the others also attempting to break free, but Thorin knows better and Balin says his thoughts aloud.
"Leave it," says the wizened dwarrow. "It's no use. This is no orc dungeon. These are the halls of the Woodland Realm; no one leaves here except by the King's consent."
"But if we don't try they are going to kill her," counters Fili. "We must do something."
"She might already be dead" says Balin solemnly. "But they might be holding her elsewhere. It's best to just conserve our energy. Thranduil will call Thorin to meet with him soon and we will go from there." There is a melancholy silence that fills the room.
"It's all our fault, isn't it? If we hadn't started fighting and kept moving those spiders wouldn't have got us. Then we wouldn't have been captured and she'd be safe…" growls Fili as he strikes his fist against the metal door of his cell. He walks in a circle before leaning on a wall and sliding down until he is settled on the floor. "They're gonna execute her and there's nothing I can do…"
"Don't beat yourself up about it, lad," says Gloin placatingly. "She knew the danger and if it truly is our fault, we are all equally responsible."
Fili doesn't respond to Gloin's explanation or the comforting agreement of the company. Instead he stares at the wall with a dark look. Thorin recognizes that look of rage hiding in his nephew's eyes; what he can't tell is if it is directed at the elves or himself. He feels that way every time he thinks of Smaug, Azog, and even the Elvenking – anyone who played a part in hurting those he cares about. It is a hatred that doesn't dim with time or distance.
His nephew turns away to think to himself and Thorin starts to stare at his own stone wall. He wishes he could take those feelings from his nephew, but it is time for his sister-son to grow and that means learning hatred. Despite his own silence in the matter, he agrees with his nephew completely; feeling guilty for being caught unawares in the forest and being captured within minutes of each occurrence. He can dwell on what could have stopped this from happening or figure out what to do next. Thorin can feel that fear and rage building under his skin, and for once in his life he begins to look forward to facing the Elvenking.
When I start to regain consciousness, I find myself in the arms of the all too familiar Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm; I nearly faint back into unconsciousness. It's the worst outcome possible: we must have been captured by the elves. The company is nowhere in sight; I have been singled out and it is at this point I begin to feel vulnerable. We enter the throne room and he puts me on my feet. Two guards take his place and search me a final time. They take away my mask and, unfortunately, my hilts. As I watch the prince handle them with curiosity I became worried that they might fall into the wrong hands.
"Listo carsul Tauriel gar sin," I say to him. "Merim e savhain." Legolas nods his head and takes the mask and hilts into his custody. Then, as a now conscious and viable prisoner, shackles are placed on my wrists. Before we begin to approach the King, Legolas whispers in my ear.
"Tauriel knows you are here," he says. "She will seek you out later." All I can respond with is a nod. Then Legolas goes back the way he came and I'm being pulled away by the guard.
I focus on my feet and balance; luckily, my motor skills return relatively quickly. Once we reach the platform beneath the throne of Thranduil, I'm forced onto my knees. It makes me a little dizzy, but I shake it off. The cold, stone-like wood beneath my skin causes goosebumps along my skin. For a moment there is silence, only the clinking of my chain could be heard. Then he spoke…
"I thought I had made myself quite clear on your last visit that you are not welcome here," says the Elvenking evenly. "What matter of such great importance would be enough to drive you here I wonder? What would make you enter my realm of your own free will under threat of death?"
I look up to see Thranduil resting in his throne of carved antlers, staring back at her with a calm tone of disinterest. His eyes are a darker blue than some Sindarin elves and tries to hold me in an intense gaze. I try focusing on the elf king's face to show I am unintimidated, but it is a struggle with the spider venom still in my blood. Still, I do my best to remain steady and maintain eye contact.
"It's not my place to say," I grunt.
"Yet it is your life that is forfeit," says Thranduil in a light and airy tone that still manages to be callous. "Your loyalty to the dwarves is admirable, but misplaced."
"I bet you thought the same thing about them when they were willing to trust you," I counter.
Unfazed, the Elvenking rises from his throne and approaches me. His height is intimidating to say the least and the magic aura around him is suffocating. He knows this and hovers over me, but in a somewhat lucky turn of events, the spider venom dulls the overwhelming sensation; essentially, making it easier to ignore him.
"I recommend you do not speak about events beyond your knowledge. The dwarves have their version of the truth that you know nothing about. Keep that tongue of yours in check, lest you lose it little ranger," he threatens.
"You are already going to execute me," I murmur calmly. "There is no sense censoring myself. If these are to be my last hours, I will speak as I wish."
"Your execution is inevitable, that is true," replies Thranduil. "However, you have something that I want and should you cooperate with me, I will gladly spare you."
That's rather surprising; what do I have to offer the Elvenking? Based on the situation, where he can easily take what he wants, there isn't much to offer; the few there are, are not good. He didn't make his demands clear which tells me he is expecting resistance. Another chill settles in my body, one that has nothing to do with the temperature of the air.
"And what would that be?" I ask.
"Tell me how Thorin Oakenshield intends to enter the Lonely Mountain," he states. I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. He knew? Had the orcs that were trailing us tell him? Was he working with them? No…no. Thranduil is many things, but he didn't stoop so low as orcs. Besides, Tauriel had guessed as much when we arrived in Rivendell. Just how big a regiment did Dain bring from the east?
"No," I growl.
"Take a moment and think with great care," he says more threateningly now. "I am offering you your life in exchange for some information. It is quite generous considering what was given for you last time."
His insinuation about Hadrien makes my heart ache and my blood boil. At the time I thought my life would in these halls, I was surprised. Hadrien had refused to be party to killing a girl who had been under the influence of the poison in the wood. Thranduil told him that if he was willing to defend a murderer then he would no longer be welcome in the Greenwood. So in exchange for my life he left his rank, his home, and even his daughter. Hadrien always thought about others; it didn't matter what race they were or from where they hailed. Anything that he thought wasn't right he tried to fix and he never faltered with what he stood for. He defied his King to save a child that was not his own; despite that she didn't necessarily deserve it. Tauriel and I never spoke about it, but I don't think there is any blame for her father's banishment or his eventual death; but to me, I would always know that it is my fault.
The Elvenking bends down to whisper in my ear, "Forget your pride and try using a little forethought. This is your entire life all for a small piece of information. In that mountain are gems that do not belong to the King Under the Mountain, but to my people. I also have a right to claim what is rightfully mine."
It's my first time hearing about elven gems, but it doesn't surprise me that they might be in there; it doesn't matter to me one way or the other. I calmly reply, "You had best speak to Thorin about that. He's the rightful King Under the Mountain."
"Yes, but his life doesn't hinge on my decision," he says confidently. "Oakenshield may be a king in exile, but he is still a king. I cannot kill him on a whim, it's not done; but you are no one. You have no rank and are guilty of killing and elven child…" He lets his words hang dramatically in the air, but when he realizes my apathy to his diction, he changes the discussion completely. "Do you understand the amount of wealth within those halls? Thror hoarded his kingdom's gold with so much vigor that his sickness was given a name – Dragon Sickness. There is enough gold within the mountain to have it rebuilt within a year if dwarves were not so scarce. Whatever shined, the Mad King coveted, and none brighter than the Lasgalen gems. They belong here…"
"What you're doing now isn't going to endear Thorin to you. Locking up his men and trying to bribe me. You'll be lucky he tosses a copper piece your way when this is all over," I say. My head is starting to clear and making my mouth run wild; this apparent by annoyed expression and the tightness of the elf's face.
"I would rather avoid speaking to the dwarf altogether. Why deal with someone so unreasonable and stubborn?" he says with huff.
I laugh loudly, "I don't see how talking to me is any better…" A moment of cold silence passes, allowing my laugh to dissipate and when he speaks again his voice has dropped.
"This is your last chance," he says. "I will ask the dwarf lord if you leave me with no other choice. However, I ask that you think not of yourself, but others who would be hurt by your choice. Perhaps your uncle, or your cousin, and your friends, especially Tauriel…"
His words finally find their mark and I grow silent. I do consider the offer for a moment. If I refuse, Neir and Aceia would quickly receive word of my death. They would be saddened more by a lack of reconciliation than my actual death. It is my own fault for not keeping in contact, for never reaching out to them. I hope it would not weigh heavily on them if it did. As for my fellow rangers, they would recite a prayer for me as I passed on, but no proper funeral would ever take place. Ethon might take it a little hard; I had promised him that we would meet again.
I made an impression in several towns, during my travels. So I can imagine a few drinks might be shared in my honor…
Tauriel had been among the elves that arrested us in the wood, at least I think she was. I remember hearing her voice and a blur of red. The spider bite has left my memory diluted. I'm sure my passing would hurt her. I would hope that she would be too angry with me to notice, but her heart is too big. Not only had we shared a father, but we became almost like sisters. For elves, sorrow and grieving meant fading…Tauriel deserves no such fate.
I thought of the company trapped in the prison below us. We have experienced so much together. They have forgiven my dishonesty and still entrusted me with their safety. I told them of the crimes I committed, even the things that disgusted myself, but they stood with me and sympathized with me; knowing this Thorin even returns my love with his own. I feel so blessed and honored to have dwarrow, the most stubborn and distrusting race in all Arda, giving me their love and acceptance. Tauriel has been trying to explain to me how move on from my lost life and make something for myself; I had a hard time hearing what she had to say, but these dwarrow have opened up a side of me that I didn't think was possible. Now I want that life she spoke of; a future with a home and hope.
When I consider the amount of time and effort I have put into my search of the pale orc…it seems like a waste. Tauriel had been right in Rivendell – I have been hiding behind my anger and fear; I hid behind my past and used it as an excuse for the way I had move forward. I'm not ashamed to admit it now, but I had been a coward.
Tears spring into my eyes as I think of that moment when Fili and Kili wrapped me in their arms as my brothers for the first time. After Hadrien, I didn't want others to get close to me, but these dwarrow accomplished it with such ease. I can feel the beads and braids resting along the side of my face; my bond with them and their love for me. Thorin is a new kind of love for me, but it is a welcome addition to my life. They have made me brave in ways that I had never considered. A smile spreads on my face in adoration and love for our company.
Then I turned my mind to the other option; to give Thranduil what he wants and live. My mood turns sour as I imagine the look on Thorin's face; as if I plunged a dagger in his back. We both knew the same thing Thranduil would take more than just the Lasgalen gems, it would be too tempting. My brothers…I couldn't betray their trust, their love, and their hopes. The others feelings on the matter would range from disappointment to trying to take my head. This imagined pain is almost too much for me to bear. I look up at the Elvenking with a smile on my face and tears start rolling down my cheeks. He forgets his mask for a moment and his surprise at my reaction leaks through.
"If I allow you to take that first step towards the mountain you will overtake it by leagues," I state. "We have allowed our greed, cowardice, and selfishness and greed to hurt others. Thror's greed cost him his kingdom, your selfishness has cost you everything, but your kingdom," I pause seeing a small surge of anger in his eyes. "I was a coward…and it cost me everything. It took me too long to set that wrong right, but I'm proud that I'm not one any longer. I wish to honor my family: human, elf, and dwarf alike by not running away any longer. I have made my mistakes along the way, but like Hadrien I will make a stand for what I believe in and I don't trust you with that information. I choose death." I am still smiling when I lower my head in finality. It is a few moments before the king speaks.
"The Feast of Stars will soon be upon us," he states solemnly. "The day after shall be your execution. That is my final decision." The guards lift me to my feet and I look at Thranduil. He has replanted himself on his throne, his tone is tight and a look of disinterest is evident on his face. "Keep her isolated from the others and bring me Oakenshield." He looks directly at me then. "You may not think your life worth the mountain, but I suspect Oakenshield might."
I see Thranduil's plan now and it's awfully convenient for him. If I'm not going to sell out the dwarrow for my life, he thinks Thorin will. With my execution set, Thorin would only have a few weeks to decide. I keep smiling, "Then it will be Thorin's choice. It won't be an easy choice; he's loyal and compassionate, but I have faith he will chose the mountain. His people are counting on him to bring them home and I want him to succeed. I would follow him to the end."
There is heavy silence before he states, "And follow him you did, right to your end."
"I did," I agreed proudly. It is fleeting, but for a minute I thought I saw sadness in his eyes. With a wave of his hand I am directed away from the throne room by the guards.
I keep my eyes on my feet as we walk through the corridors of the underground city of the elves. I won't be leaving this city alive so there is no real point in trying to figure out a route of escape. When the guards stop suddenly, my attention is brought to the elf that stands in our way. For a minute I expect him to move aside, but then he steps forward. As he gets closer I recognize him as Gliwen's brother, Gannion. At my initial trial in the Greenwood, he and his father had demanded my death. When Hadrien intervened on my behalf they had been furious; they had reared like hounds, foaming at the mouth for my death. I know they felt their justice had been denied. Even now he is observing me cautiously with cold, harsh eyes.
"Alaendh si," says the guard on my right. I hope that they will not let him near me, but there s no real optimism on my part.
Gannion is unfazed by the warning and continues forward, saying, "Sevin itur nasi." He is different now. The version of him I remember would have attacked the guards and killed me where I stood. Time has clearly tempered him, but I can sense that hate remains.
To my shock the guards do not stop him when he approaches me. The malice in his eyes makes me take a small step back, but the guards don't allow me to move far. Thranduil was one issue and this is another altogether. He stops directly in front of me, less than a foot away, and his hands wrap around my throat. His long fingers do their best to cover as much skin as possible while maintaining a taut grip. The guards tense, but don't move to help me. The skin around my throat goes tight; it doesn't affect my breathing, but it makes me nervous. I shudder slightly from the coolness of his flesh…like a touch of death.
"Arathranduil iest menan bandil said oi naugrim," replies the other guard. Hopefully, he is asserting his command regarding the matter of my jailing. Unfortunately, Gannion pulls away from me to look at the guard with a serious look on his face.
"Nihdim cared idha echluen," he tells them. There is a moment of silence where I can feel ice crawling up my back as they consider his offer.
The fear creeps into my belly as I hear the guards backing away from me and back up the stone hallway we came down. His eyes look away from where the guards disappear and directly into mine. They are cold and unwavering, like ice. My heart is trying to beat out of my chest as I face the brother of the elleth I had killed. I know that he and his father hate me more than anything in this world; they had said as much when Hadrien had saved me from this place. I know that kind of hate intimately and as the receiver in this instance, I am also painfully aware that I have run out of ways to escape. I accepted my death at the hands of the Elvenking, but this executioner before me has different ideas…
"Adaren aim hartham na maethalu didh eb gwannadh," he says coolly. Gelon; he is Gliwen's father. Before this happened he had been a harp player in the king's orchestra, but Tauriel told me that his daughter's death had broken him. He no longer plays music, but spends most of his days in a hole of a room somewhere in Thranduil's kingdom.
My silence is the only answer I give. He slips his hand to the back of my neck, grips, and begins to push me forward. The halls suddenly look darker to my eyes as he pulls me further and further into the depths of the Elvenking's kingdom.
"Why did you and your folk trespass on my lands?" asks Thranduil, his frustration now becoming increasingly noticeable as a delicate hand pinches his even more delicate nose.
"We didn't trespass. We were following the Elven Path when we became lost; we were delirious and starving," says the dwarf king calmly. He watches the woodland sprite with infallible discontent, trying to read him.
"What were you doing in my forest?" he tries again.
"Looking for food and drink because we were starving," Thorin persists with a small, smug smile. The elven ponce presses his lips together in a firm line, frustration mounting.
"But what brought you into the forest in the first place?" he demands with a raised voice.
To this Thorin doesn't answer. Instead he looks around trying to see if there is any trace of his ranger's demise. There is no sign of blood, but then again the elf king wouldn't want to dirty his floors. They could have taken her elsewhere, but the time between Tahna's abduction and this meeting with the tree shagger shouldn't be enough for an execution. At least, that's what he hopes…
"Some may imagine," says the elf as he changes tone, "that a noble quest is at hand; a quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon." The would-be King Under the Mountain suspected that the elf knew about the quest ever since Rivendell then the elf lord made mention of Dain. He is circling Thorin slowly, trying to intimidate him. "I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive; attempted burglary or something of that ilk. You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule; the King's Jewel – the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that; there are gems in that mountain that I too desire. They are white gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help."
"I'm listening," Thorin says quietly. It makes sense that the only reason Thranduil would help is if it is for his own gain. However, there is a chance Thorin could still use this to his advantage…
"I will let you go, if you but return what is rightfully mine," offers the Elvenking.
"A favor for a favor?" asks Thorin.
"You have my word; from one king to another," says the elf assuredly.
"I would not trust, Thranduil, the Great King," Thorin snorts the title with blatant hate and his voice rises so the whole kingdom may hear, "to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us! I have seen how you treat your friends." He turns to the Great Liar. "We came to you once; starving, homeless – seeking your help! But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people," Thorin chokes up a little remembering those they had to bury at the edge of the wood because they didn't receive food, water, or medicine; it had been all they asked for, "and the inferno that destroyed us!Imrid amrâd ursul!"
"Do not talk to me of dragon fire," the elf says quietly as he puts his face a few inches from Thorin's; it's almost as though he thought a dragon might hear him and therefore keeps his voice low. "I know its wrath and ruin." Thorin watches before his eyes as Thranduil's face degenerates. First his left eye clouds over and the skin of his cheek sinks inward, revealing the sinews and muscles in his face. They tighten and move as he speaks. Thorin has always thought elves to be ugly, but he now knows that the Elvenking is by far the most hideous. "I have faced the Great Serpents of the North." His voice and his face return to normal, the glamour of the Elvenking once again in place. "I warned your grandfather what his greed would summon, but he did not listen. You are just like him."
Thorin wants to defend his grandfather and call the smug elf bastard every horrible name under the sun, but his jaw is locked. Thorin knows that he isn't entirely wrong. There were nights that Thorin would follow his grandfather to the treasury and saw what became of him. For a portion of Thorin's childhood Thror would only live to gaze upon the horde he created. He missed family dinners, birthdays, and festivals just so he could salivate over his gem-laced gold heaps. Admittedly, during one of the Elvenking's visits to Erebor Thranduil had tried to address it with Thror and it ended with bad blood. This isn't what Thorin held against Thranduil; it's everything that followed.
Without warning the guards grab Thorin. He had been lost in his own thoughts and is therefore startled, but quickly realizes the meeting has ended; Thranduil no longer wishes to speak to him. He didn't even make mention of Tahna. Thorin panics and struggles against the armored elves. Thranduil returns to his perch unmoved by Thorin's resistance.
"Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a blink in the life of an elf. I'm patient; I can wait," he claims tauntingly.
"WAIT!" the dwarf lord cries. At that the elf king pauses, ordering Thorin's release with a wave of his hand and the guards resume their original positions.
"That didn't take as long as I expected," he replies with a smug look.
"My answer in regards to that matter remains the same, but there is another we have not discussed," says Thorin forcibly.
"As far as I know the mountain is our only business," he says nonchalantly.
"The ranger…" Thorin begins cautiously, "where is she?"
"She is gone," he says coldly. "I let her go and she ran away the first chance she got." If anyone else told him this he might be concerned, but Thorin knows this deceit and he knows it well.
"That's a lie," says the son of Thrain; at which, the elf looks curious and calculating. "I know your holding her here somewhere. She told us what happened here on her last visit to the Dead Wood. You wouldn't just let her go."
"Then you know she killed an innocent elf-child," accuses the elf, his anger flaring.
"I know that your lands poisoned her mind and she committed an act under its influence that she will never forgive herself for," responds Thorin calmly. "You are ultimately responsible for that tragedy, which should have never happened. If you had cared for your lands as your father did…"
At that comment, Thorin receives a sinister stare from the poncy elf, but the dwarf is unmoved and unintimidated. The elf king raises him from his throne once more and descends to the dais. He approaches Thorin without a word, looking down at him from the end of his nose.
"I know that you care for her," Thranduil says. "I know that she means something to you. She speaks your praises even if they are misguided. She is quite loyal. I offered her life in exchange for the details of your expedition." Thorin maintains a face of impassiveness, but his heart is racing. "She refused…but you already knew that didn't you?" Thorin remains silent. "She is to be executed the day after Mereth-en-Gilith; two weeks from now. However, I don't see how it matters." Thorin's stomach now clenches painfully.
"What do you mean?" asks Thorin quietly.
"Both of us know you will not change your mind," he says with a cold tone. "And so does she…" At this Thorin doesn't remain silent to hide his feelings, but is rather thunderstruck. He wonders if she told him this or if it is another lie. "You are the only one who can save her, but she has accepted that you will not. In fact she doesn't want you to; she wants you to succeed in reclaiming Erebor. But it seems that you both will have to suffer disappointment."
It made Thorin sick to his stomach, but he realizes the elf is right; he won't give in to Thranduil's demands. He pictures Tahna in his mind and he could see her giving herself up for the quest, eyes bright and a smile on her face. He can feel his heart shatter from the weight that settles on his shoulders. He wants to save her, he is fighting the urge to give Thranduil his Valar forsaken gems, but Thorin knows what will really happen when the Elvenking came to Erebor for what was promised. His kin and his people need Erebor and everything within – he couldn't give it to him; not even for her. Then again if they can't get out without a deal then she would die senselessly, wouldn't she? This internal struggle takes the fight out of Thorin, so when the guards take his arms again he doesn't resist. As he walks away from the elf king he feels his feet growing heavier with every step, along with his heart.
It seems all too soon when he is returned to his cell. He walks in almost entranced, not really seeing the environment around him. He could hear voices of the others all asking him questions, but there is a lump in his throat that renders him unable to speak. He never thought that he would have to make this choice, but now that it's here he cannot falter. He has a hard time bringing himself to look his comrades in the eyes when he told them. He waits for the elves to walk away and even then he waits another minute more. Balin is the first to speak:
"Did he offer you a deal?" asks his advisor. The others are silent, listening in anticipation for their kings' answer.
"He did," Thorin swallows heavily.
"And," prompts the son of Fundin, "what was it? Did you agree to it?"
"He wants the Lasgalen Gems and the knowledge of how we plan to enter the mountain in exchange for our freedom…and Tahna's life," he says with a lump in his throat. There is a painful silence and none pierce it. As Thorin feels wetness trailing down his face he also says, "I didn't agree to his terms." There is more silence. Thorin wishes someone would say something; anything that would mirror the voice in his head and tell him to come to her defense. The quiet reigns and Thorin slips further back into his cell, defeated. Eventually, Balin speaks again…
"Well…if she didn't tell him what he wants to know it means she wants it this way, laddie. Our lass wouldn't give in to the likes of him for any price, of that I'm sure. Besides you almost forgot…" he says with a little laugh, "we got a luck bearer on our side." Thorin's heart races as he remembers their burglar who had been clever enough to avoid capture. He is here somewhere, the king in exile knows it; if the hobbit managed to follow them through the goblin tunnels, then he would be here. Thorin almost feels like laughing at himself for having forgotten.
"Then hope isn't lost yet," says Thorin and holds on to that thought with every fiber of his being. He puts all of his faith in the hobbit that he will save them all including their ranger...again.
As I am lead further down into the darkness of the palace we are silent. The lit sconces become fewer and fewer as the halls went deeper. No one would come to my rescue, even if they could hear me. Eventually, we come to a halt in a darkened hallway in front of an almost entirely rusted door. I can feel the moisture in the air, which means there must be some kind of underground spring nearby. He holds me still with one arm while he yanks open the door with the other. It screeches loudly at the hinges, sounding faintly like a scream. Then he throws me inside. I stumble almost falling forward on my face, but by locking my knees and throwing my weight back, I regain my footing. When I turn back to look at him, he shuts the door with him outside. A small, triumphant smile on his face is the last thing I see of him.
Then the slide of a bar across the door can be heard and I know he has blocked me in. Worried about what horrors might be in here with me, I don't move as I face the room. There are only a couple of torches lit on two of the walls, opposite each other. Therefore, darkness mostly consumes the space. I wait for the darkness to move, or sense something in the room with me. The sound of rushing water through the walls makes it hard to concentrate. After several minutes I conclude that I'm alone; at least, for now.
I start trying to figure out the layout of the room. From the small amount of the light in the room I can see the walls and floor are stone; they are rough slabs of gray limestone. It is more raw then the rest of the finely carved stone structures of the Woodland Palace. I cannot see the back of the room, but the movement of the air indicates that it can't be more than a few feet back. I approach a torch on the wall to get a better guess when I look up; I'm surprised to see the ceiling of the place is actually an iron grate above me. The space between the lattice forms a diamond pattern, leaving large open spaces. Many of the bars look brown and orange in the small amount of light. I can't see the rest of it though. The ceiling is high enough that not only could I not reach it, but it disappears a foot away from the light of the torch. Therefore, I can't tell how far the open grate goes; the whole ceiling might be like that or perhaps that's the only section.
When I look back at the wall I notice there is something strange. The walls seem darker in some places than others despite that they are all the same kind of stone; perhaps they form images. I approach one of the dark patches in the light to look closer. It doesn't form a mural at all, but a random spattering of the darker coloring which appears to have stained in the stone itself. I touch it, the chain that connects my manacles clattering as I do so. It doesn't come off and it doesn't remain on my fingers either. Whatever it is it has been there for a long, long time…
The hair stands up on my neck and arms as I feel the faintest shift in the air. I look around and nothing moves or gives any signs that there is something alive in the room with me. My instincts are unnerved and I can feel someone watching me now. I keep turning until I manage to put my back against the wall. I wait and wait for something, anything to happen and when it does, it still surprises me.
"It's blood you know…" says a voice in the darkness. It sounds like it comes from every corner of the room. I recognize the voice, it's Gelon. I feel a chill run over my body as I try to pinpoint him. "…on the walls." I glance only momentarily at the dark patch I touched moments ago. "We used to bring orcs and goblins down here for interrogation…and execution." His last word is nothing more than a whisper. I can feel my heart crawling into my throat as I continue to panic.
There is nothing for minutes and minutes on end. I stay at the edge of the light from the torch, prepared to run closer to the door. I watch the darkness, waiting for him to make his move, but nothing happens. Then without warning liquid of some sort comes pouring down on me from above. It's cold as ice and pulls an unwitting shriek from my throat. At first, I try to shield my body with my arms, afraid of what might have landed on me. Worried of what it is I take a cautious step closer to the light and discover its just water, but already I can feel a shiver encompassing my body.
I look up to where I can see water dripping down from the ceiling. It falls in a pattern as the droplets overflow the metal strips; I guess the grate I had seen before must make up most of the top of the cell. In my mind something clicks with sudden clarity and I calmly walk over to the torch and hold it higher. It cannot even begin to reach the top of the room, but with the movement of the light my assailant is somewhat visible.
He is wearing all black, from the tips of his boots to the neck of his tunic, his body is covered in cloth as dark as the night. An outline of a bucket in his hand sways near his right leg, empty. His head is the only thing standing out in the light. He is paler than when I last saw him, in fact more than any elf I have ever met. The closest comparison would have to be…Azog. His face is not mottled with scars, but remains the common elven perfection. His hair is not the fair color it once was; it once looked like Thranduil's, but it now appears almost translucent. On the shores of Langstrand, a creature had been washed up on the beach with thin, clear tendrils and a squishing mass of a body. The local fisherman it called it a lantern fish due to the beautiful colors it would glow at night.
Gelon's hair looks like those creature's strands now. Later, I had been told where poisonous and painful; somehow that fact makes this comparison more relevant. His eyes are hidden in the darkness, giving the appearance that they are large black sockets. The thin, unhealthy look of his face makes his skeletal appearance all the more accurate. He just stands there and stares down at me. Out of fear that I might anger him, I say nothing. Then, his hand moves and the bucket he had been holding flies across the room, making a loud clatter that sounds like it came from all throughout the room. Only when it becomes silent once more does he speak again…
"I've been waiting for this for years. Tauriel has no idea where you are and with Hadrien dead, your friends imprisoned, there is no one to save you now," he pauses and crouches lower into the light. Now I can see his eyes they are the palest blue I have ever seen, bordering on white. "How does it feel knowing that you are helpless; completely at my mercy? Do you think it's what my daughter felt when you ran her through?" His eyes become distant, not really looking at me, but beyond me; looking at a memory of his daughter at a time long passed. I say nothing and several minutes before he returns to himself. "She didn't suffer, but that's hardly a comfort and it certainly isn't one I'm going to give you."
He stands and quickly disappears back into the dark. I try to follow him in the dark with the light of the torch, but I quickly lose him. Now I'm sorely exposed in the dark, waving a torch in my hand. I move to replace the torch, but before I can an arrow cuts the top of my arm and in my pain, I drop one of my only sources of light. Within a minute the light dissipates, leaving the room even darker than before. It's a small cut on my arm and the blood pools slowly. I don't say anything, but a small grunt leaves my lips. My chained wrists prevent me from reaching the wound with my hand. I feel a rush of air near my leg, but I can't see it, startling me. I naturally run away from it and I try leaning up against a wall to catch my breath. I can't see in the dark like he can and it causes my instincts to take over.
The open spaces in the iron ceiling of the cell make for easy access to arrows and probably spear shafts. Clearly, I can't tell if what's coming at me is dangerous or not. This isn't a matter of killing me; he truly wishes to torture me. He's going to keep me on edge living in fear of his next attack. I couldn't even hear his incoming attack because of how light elves are on their feet.
"I want you to run," he speaks again. "I want to watch you run around in the dark. I want to watch you struggle and hear you cry. You are a mouse in my cage and I will continue to poke you until I'm satisfied. You will receive no rest and no reprieve. You will sleep forever when I'm done; so until then, you had best start running little ranger!"
Then a noise so loud in pitch I can feel my eardrums flex in protest fills the room. I try to cover my ears, but it's not entirely effective with bound wrists. It's the last thing I heard for the rest of the day.
Bilbo's initial plan had been to open the door and let Tahna out after the elf locked the door, but he didn't leave. Within a few minutes he could hear Tahna cry out through the door. His heart dropped only more when he saw a cruel smile form on the guard at the door. After an hour of waiting did the hobbit realize that he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Instead, he retraces his steps, trying to find his way to the others and then find an escape route.
However, he very quickly became lost. He just climbed up a small flight of stairs to a large room of silver white wood and marble. In the middle is a large dark pool of water. It's clear that he hasn't been here before. That is all he has a chance to obverse before someone speaks…
"I know you are there. Why do you linger in the shadows?" asks the Elvenking, looking directly at Bilbo. The Shireling freezes and heart stops under Thranduil's gaze as he finds the courage to make himself known, believing himself to be caught.
"I was coming to report to you," the hobbit turns to see it's the female elf that captured them speaking. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief that he hadn't been caught and moves closer to the wall to avoid being caught. She approaches the king and stands before him.
"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed no two moons past," says the king with agitation as he turns his attention towards the pool of water in the room.
"We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord," she replies with a irritation to her words and she begins to pace, "but more spiders keep coming up from the south. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur." She says with complete conviction and there is a brief look of frustration on the elven king's face at her excitability. "If we could kill them at the source-"
"The fortress lies beyond our borders," he cuts her off. It effectively stops her pacing as well. "Keep our land clear of those foul creatures. That is your task."
"And we drive them off, what then?" she asks incredulously drawing closer to the Woodland King. "Will they not spread to other lands?" Her concern is plain in her voice.
"Other lands are not my concern," he says turning away from the captain to pour himself a glass of wine on a nearby table. The look of disbelief on her face mirrors Bilbo's; even if they can't see it. "Fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here in this kingdom we will endure." She looks angry and as though she wants to argue her point. "Your father thought much the same way and look where it got him." He says as he takes a sip of his drink. Bilbo's nose twitches with displeasure.
"Yes, my lord," she says through gritted teeth after a long silence. Tauriel took this as a sign of dismissal and begins to walk away when Thranduil speaks again.
"I know how much you care for her; your friend, the ranger, but be mindful Tauriel," he warns. "You and your father share a bleeding heart for the other people in this world, but it is not a trait I value. I take pride in choosing those I see as loyal to our people, the kingdom, and my rule. Do not disappoint me by letting your tender natures control your actions."
Bilbo can see her profile from where he is, but the king can't. He sees the loathing in her eyes and the curl of her lips as they form a snarl. Her fists are clenched, but none of it is reflected in her voice. She disagrees with his decision and looks borderline mutinous. Bilbo can see in her eyes that she is struggling and that she has more she wish she could say. Maybe she could help him; she could help him save Tahna from her captors.
"Of course not, my lord," she says calmly before walking away. Bilbo pauses, watching Thranduil cautiously, before following her. As he leaves, he misses the Elvenking look his way when he thinks he can hear another set of footsteps along with the Captain's. He listens a few minutes more before he dismisses it and takes another long sip of wine.
After the room falls silent, Thranduil resumes watching the pool. Out of all of the events that happened today, the most strange is the bond between Thorin Oakenshield and the ranger. Never in a thousand years would he have thought that the dour dwarf prince would ever open his heart to anyone, let alone a human girl. It confuses the long-lived king, but rather than think too hard on it he turns his attentions to plans for the upcoming feast and another glass of wine.
Khuzdul Translations:
namad – sister
Imrid amrâd ursul - Die a fiery death
Sindarin Translation:
Holo in ennyn. – Close the gate.
Anede anim. – Give her to me.
Iara innas tirae hi. – The king will see her now.
Namae die. – Be gentle with her.
Gwestaim – I promise.
Mabi naugrim dadan igador. – Take the dwarves down to the dungeon.
Iminnas pedan abdh. – I will speak to you later.
Farn! – Enough!
Cardh henia? – Do you understand?
Listo carsul Tauriel gar sin. - Please make sure Tauriel receives these.
Merim e savhain. - I want her to have them.
Alaendh si – You should not be here
Sevin itur nasi – I have the right/power to be here
Arathranduil iest menan bandil said oi naugrim – King Thranduil wants us to imprison her separate from the dwarves.
Nihdim cared idha echluen – I will make it worthy of your time. (No "worthy" used synonym)
Adaren aim hartham na maethalu didh eb gwannadh – My father and I hope to spend time with you before you depart.
Things aren't going well for our friends…