Chapter Six

The Ill-Fated Dwarf

Caras Galadhon, Lord Celeborn's palace in Lothlorien, would have been a nice place to visit if you weren't taken there as a prisoner. But when Peg, after a long walk blindfolded, was led into one of its courts and had his eyes uncovered, he could only think of how very uncomfortable it was to be surrounded on all sides by blond elves and how comforting it was to have the curly-headed, big-footed Trolo by his side.

Trolo had been making muttered protests most of the way, and now that he had his eyes to use again, was now redoubling his efforts, straining very hard at his bonds and speaking to an elf with a spiky crown who stood before them in a far from respectful tone of voice. It was a very spiky crown, rather like he had gotten a lot of arrows or tree branches stuck in his head.

'I demand an explanation and an apology for this,' Trolo said. 'And when it is had, I shall probably not accept it. This is no way to treat a free hobbit of the Wide, Wide World, let alone the Shire. To say nothing of the orc. I know you don't like them in general, but I can personally vouch for Master Pegrun's character.'

'Shut him off,' said the elf with the crown, and one of the elves clamped a hand over Trolo's mouth. Trolo continued to struggle and interject murmurs throughout the rest of the conversation. 'What are these creatures you have brought to Caras Galadhon, Legolas?' went on the crowned one.

Legolas, who had tight hold of Peg, bowed slightly.

'Gollum escaped, Dad,' he said. 'But this orc aided him, and this hobbit abetted the orc.'

Peg snarled a little, because Legolas was hurting him.

'Mmm!' said Trolo, indignantly, and kicked his captor.

The elf with the crown looked at both of them searchingly, then spoke.

'The hobbit shall be imprisoned to await our pleasure,' he said. 'Lord Celeborn will not object to keeping him in the dungeon here until we return to Mirkwood.'

'Mm-mm-mm!' said Trolo, which was as much to say, 'now look here!'

The elf-king ignored him. He turned toward Pegrun. 'The orc –' he began. Then he seemed to find words needless, and seizing the sword that Calendul held, he suddenly fell upon Peg and sliced off his head.

Three things happened at the same time. Calendul's jaw dropped, Trolo struggled violently with a painful cry of 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' that was still intelligible even though it was muffled, and, perhaps most noticeable of all, Peg's head remained on his shoulders, and he continued blinking in horrified astonishment at the elf-king.

'Good Elbereth,' said Calendul, but for a moment that was all anyone said. The elf-king looked at the sword. It was bloody. Legolas gave Peg's head a tentative cuff, but it remained where it should have been (in Peg's opinion, at least).

And while they were all staring at each other and particularly at Peg, a white figure stepped into the room, and they all were distracted. It was a very tall figure in long pale robes, with wavy blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She was elegant and seemed to think that if she walked into the room it was the greatest thing that had happened since elves first came to Middle-Earth. Perhaps she was right.

'Thranduil,' she said, and went on to talk in some scary-sounding language that was very soft and somehow menacing.

The elf with the crown returned in the same language and looked with abhorrence upon Peg.

Peg looked at Trolo for help, but Trolo was still restrained from speech and only rolled his eyes as if to say

'Our hero was highly disgruntled with the state of affairs.'

Suddenly Peg looked around to find the she-elf coming towards him. She pointed at him and spoke to Legolas.

'What is that in his ear?' she asked.

Legolas shrugged. 'I know not, my lady. It may be an orc charm, or some extra part of his most abysmal anatomy.'

The elf with the soul patch stepped forward and grasped Peg by the ear. He surveyed the ring in it and then turned to the lady in white.

'This is no mere orc charm,' he said. 'It is ring of great value, maybe even – maybe even of Power.'

The lady was white enough as it was, but she went even whiter. She looked at the elf called Thranduil.

'One of the Rings of Power?' she said. 'We must tell Lord Celeborn. Calendula, put the orc and the hobbit in the prison.'

Calendul bowed and took hold of Peg as Legolas followed his father and the lady out of the room.

'Bring the Half—hobbit,' he said to the other elves, and dragged Peg out of the room.

They went down many staircases through the trees, past dining rooms and parlours and strange open courtyards, and finally down deep into the ground and down a tunnel lined on either side with heavy doors. Peg and the hobbit were both shoved through one of the doors and locked in. Then Calendul and his elven friends went away and left them alone.

Peg slumped into a corner and fingered his ring. He wouldn't let them take it away. No, no, not before they killed him. And it was beginning to be apparent that they couldn't kill him while he had it. He felt around his neck, but his head was still firmly attached to his body. It had hurt terribly when Thranduil had struck, but Peg wasn't dead. He snickered. He could defy these elves.

Trolo was pacing up and down the bare cell in his enormous feet and stamping.

'You see why I don't like the Big People,' he said. 'They shall still have to reckon with me.'

'Not much chance of that,' said a deep, gruff voice out of the darkness of the tunnel.

Trolo started and turned to the door of his cell. The tunnel was dim and the doors on the other side were hard to see, but the orc and hobbit could just make out a shape behind the door across from them.

'Who are you?' asked Trolo.

'Oort, son of Dori,' said the voice and the shape.

'You are a dwarf,' guessed Trolo.

'Aye,' returned the voice. 'But I said you won't get much chance to give these elves what they deserve. They'll keep you down here for the rest of your life and hand you food through the door and never give you the opportunity to even scratch at them. That's how it is.'

There was a thump as if he had sat down very heavily.

Peg crawled to the door and looked out.

'Why were you locked up here?' he asked.

'What the devil is that creature they brought with you?' asked the dwarf, apparently talking to Trolo.

'Um,' said Trolo. 'It's an orc. My companion.'

'Oh,' said Oort. 'I see. They locked you up as a loony.'

'No,' said Trolo. 'They locked us up because we helped some poor wretch in Mirkwood get away from some of them. And apparently because the orc has a ring in his ear.'

'A ring?' asked Oort, with sudden interest. 'An orc with a ring? Why didn't they kill him?'

'They tried,' said Trolo. 'It didn't work.'

'Ah!' said Oort, growing more and more intrigued. 'A loony with an orc friend and they have a ring. A ring that keeps elves from killing the bearer!'

'But why did they lock you up?' asked Peg.

'Does the thing have to talk?' asked Oort. 'They locked me up because I happened to take a fancy to some shiny things they have about here.'

'Oh,' said Trolo. 'You were stealing from them?'

'Stealing?' demanded Oort. 'Not exactly. It's just that I'm a kleptomaniac.'

'Serves them right,' grumbled Trolo.

Oort perked up.

'I agree,' he said. 'It serves them right.'

'Locking us up, I mean,' said Trolo. 'Just for helping out a fellow.'

'Yes,' said Oort. 'But that's elves for you.'

'Elves,' said Trolo. 'I dislike all people of Unnatural Height. Now you and I understand each other, don't we?'

'I don't understand what you're doing with an orc,' said Oort. 'But I understand your annoyance.'

Trolo nodded and shook the bars of his cage.

'If only we could get out,' he said. 'We'd fight a few of them and escape!'

Oort sighed.

'You'd never get out,' he said. 'Do you even know how you got here? You're lost.'

Trolo and Peg saw the truth of this.

'But,' said Oort. 'I do have an idea.'

'What?' asked Trolo.

'You're a hobbit. Elves always have had soft spots for hobbits.'

'They think we're some sort of circus act!' snorted Trolo.

'But,' said Oort, 'they don't have grudges against them, as they do us dwarves. So this is my idea. Listen carefully. These elves have very good ears, so I daren't talk too loud.'

'I can hear just as well as any elf.'

'I can hear better,' said Peg.

'Shut that orc up,' said Oort. 'He makes me ill.'

'Kindly save your comments, Pegrun Orc,' said Trolo. 'Go on, Oort son of Dori, most ill-fated dwarf, and speak. Our hero sat down and prepared to listen to the suggestion.'

He was obviously getting back on balance. He was beginning to talk like his book again.

'When they come down here,' said Oort. 'You beg for mercy.'

'What!' demanded Trolo, springing up. 'No! No, never!'

'Quiet,' said Oort. 'This is the only way it will work. You beg for mercy and promise to behave yourself if they let you out.'

'But I won't,' said Trolo. 'I'd most likely kill some of them in their sleep. Our hero was beginning to doubt the sanity of the dwarf.'

'But they won't know that!' said Oort. 'So you just have to say it and they'll probably believe it. Then, you steal the she-elf's ring.'

'Which one is the she-elf?' asked Trolo.

'The tall blond one,' said Peg.

'Thanks,' said Trolo. 'That helps. I find out which one is the most female, steal the ring, and then?'

'And then,' said Oort, 'we blackmail them. We say we won't give it back until they let us all go.'

Trolo thought about this. 'Sounds an excellent plan,' he said. 'But I don't like sucking up to elves.'

'It's better than staying here,' said Oort.

'I agree,' said Trolo. 'I'll do it.'

'But, Trolo,' said Peg.

'Shut that orc up,' said Oort.

'But, Trolo!' said Peg. There was something rather wrong about Oort's plan that Trolo obviously didn't see.

'No,' said Trolo. 'I think it will work. Why not?'

Peg just shook his head.

'I don't like it.'

'But you don't want them to try to slice your head off again?' asked Trolo. 'Or to take your earring?'

Peg succumbed. He didn't want them to take his ring.