Elle wandered through the paths of Rivendell, the moon her only source of light in her blackened surroundings. She knew she shouldn't be out at night, but she was starving. At dinner, she had hardly eaten, the food too light for her taste. So she was looking for the only people that she knew had packed some real food.
The dwarves.
As her stomach emitted another low rumble, Elle saw a bright light up ahead, likely emanating from a bonfire or fireplace. She ran towards the light, hearing the faint babble and chortle of voices and laughter up ahead.
When she reached the bonfire, she found all thirteen dwarves sitting around it, throwing freshly cooked sausages and strips of crispy bacon to one another, cheering as they did so. Obviously, no one had been very satisfied by the dinner earlier.
"Lass! Come join us!" Bofur called, throwing a plate of bacon and potatoes her way with a flick of his wrist. Kili, who was in the line of the flying plate, quickly ducked, and Elle just barely managed to catch the airborne vessel before it shattered on the ground.
"Elle?" Thorin asked, turning to look at her. "What are you doing here?"
But Elle's mouth was already stuffed with potatoes. "Ergh," she mumbled, trying to swallow the food as fast as she could. "Er wash ungree," she said through a mouth full of potatoes.
"What?" Fili laughed.
"I was hungry," Elle repeated, laughing a little too. "Sorry to bother you, it's just that… well, Elvish food is pretty awful and I hardly ate anything at dinner."
"It's no bother, lass!" Bifur guffawed. "You must be freezing! Come sit by the fire!"
Elle eagerly took a seat by the crackling bonfire, hardly realizing that it was opposite Thorin until she looked up and found herself staring into those ice-blue eyes again. She nearly choked.
"Where's Jasmine?" Kili asked her, snapping her out of her trance.
"Oh, she's, umm…" Elle stammered, debating whether or not to tell the truth. She finally decided not to. "She had to stay back. Something about a stomachache." You owe me one, Jasmine, Elle thought to herself. If they ever found out you were meeting secretly with Lord Elrond, they'd have a fit.
"Must have been that God awful food at dinner," Dwalin grumbled, popping another sausage into his mouth. "Tasted like poison, it did."
At the mention of poison, Elle stiffened slightly, remembering the bottle of clear poison tucked in her satchel back at the bunkhouse. To distract herself, she quickly downed the mug of ale that Gloin offered her.
"Oi!" Bofur called to Bombur, who was perched on a stool that seemed to be aching under his immense weight. "Catch this!"
Bombur looked up, just as the sausage that Bofur had thrown to him hit him smack in the nose. With a mischievous grin, he hurled a sausage back at Bofur, only he missed, and it ended up hitting Fili instead.
Fili continued the trend, throwing a potato at Kili, who caught it and then chucked it back at his brother. The potato hit Fili in the stomach with a resounding thump, and caused the blonde dwarf to emit a cough of shock.
And so a huge food fight ensued, with the dwarves hurling potatoes and sausages and carrots and pieces of bread at each other, the attacks, although lighthearted, messy and even, in some cases, slightly painful (due to the dwarves' extreme throwing power).
Elle managed to dodge most of the attacks directed at her, but when Fili shot a still-warm potato her way, it broke apart and splattered onto her face. Fili quickly apologized, his eyes widening and he watched her try to hastily wipe off the gunk. He rushed over to her with a napkin, offering it to her by a means of cleaning off the mess. But instead of accepting the offering, she pulled him towards her, securing him in a headlock, and began tickling him. Fili howled in laughter, straining against her grasp.
"This is what you get for throwing a potato in my face!" Elle shrieked, giving a playful cackle.
Kili came over then, and helped restrain his brother, a broad grin on his face. "Get 'im Elle!" he laughed, as all three of them collapsed to the ground, covered in splattered food and trying to tickle the others.
When at last Fili and Kili seemed occupied wrestling and tickling each other, Elle stood up, brushing off her skirts. A smile was still etched onto her lips when she looked up and saw Thorin looking at the three of them, an avuncular grin on his face. His eyes met hers, and, instead of having their usual glare, they shone and twinkled with a youth that Elle hadn't seen in him before.
"Our business is no concern of elves," Thorin said sharply, tightening his grip around the map. I
"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map," Gandalf sighed, exasperated. The wizard had been trying to get Thorin to show the annoyingly calm elf-lord the map of Erebor for nearly three minutes now, yet Thorin had been resisting. They had been called to a sort of council with Lord Elrond a few moments ago, and Thorin and Balin had been able to slink away from the bonfire that the rest of his company had been having to attend.
"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets," he responded, looking up at Lord Elrond with a menacing glare.
"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond," Gandalf commanded, his voice like that of a tired parent speaking to their troublesome child.
The eyes of Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Balin all turned to him, as he pondered the wizard's last statement. As much as it pained him to do so, he knew that he would eventually have to turn over the map. Thorin doubted that they would run into another person who was able to read the ancient runes on the map he carried, and he knew that it was essential that the map was translated. Reluctantly, he held out the parchment to Lord Elrond, his hand trembling slightly as he did so.
"Thorin, no," Balin whispered, trying to pull his arm back, the map along with it. But Thorin steadied his hand, resisting the urge to yank the paper back from the elf's outstretched fingers.
Elrond took the map and unfolded the parchment, his brows furrowing slightly as he did so. "Erebor?" he asked. "What is your interest in the mountain?"
Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but Gandalf quickly interrupted what would have been a very insulting retort. "It's mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" The wizard shot Thorin a significant look.
Elrond took a few steps away from them, tilting and examining the map as he went. "Cirth Ithil," he said at last.
"Moon runes," Gandalf supplemented. "Of course. An easy thing to miss."
"Well in this case, that is true; moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written," Elrond replied, running his finger over the runes written there.
Thorin felt his heart leap. "Can you read them?" he all but choked out.
Lord Elrond led them out onto a sort of balcony, where the light of the moon in the darkened sky shone bright and clear onto a stone pedestal at the end of the balcony. Thorin watched intently as Elrond placed the map of his homeland onto the pedestal.
"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight," Elrond said, looking over at him with the barest of smiles grazing his face. Thorin quickly averted his eyes, looking back at the map.
Blue runes, searingly bright, etched themselves onto the page as the light of the moon hit the page. The parchment shimmered, the mountain of Erebor that was inked onto it's surface seeming to come alive in the light.
Elrond then began to translate the fresh runes as, "Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."
"Durin's Day," Balin began, his voice catching slightly with the same realization that hit Thorin mere seconds later.
"This is ill news. Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us," he said gravely. When his eyes were drawn back to the map, he found that the drawing of his homeland that had been so clear earlier had now seemingly muddied, the inked lines growing more and more fuzzy.
"We still have time," Gandalf responded. "Time to find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."
"So this is your purpose, to enter the mountain," Elrond said, looking between the three of them.
"What of it?" Thorin spat, his gaze hardening as it locked with the elf-lord's.
"There are some who would not deem it wise," Elrond replied.
With a low growl, Thorin snatched the map from the pedestal and, folding it back up, slid it into his pocket.
We will reach the mountain, he said to himself, the feeling of the parchment still fresh on his fingers.
Ooh, "Aunt Elle" has a nice ring to it, don't you think? :P
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