Chapter 9: An elven shadow play

It was still dark when Thorin woke again from his restless slumber. He could tell that dawn was not far away, the stars had begun to fade. But this was not what had woken him. A single elven voice sang, the mournful ballad echoing through the silence of their camp, the words he could catch were in common tongue though, speaking of darkness and a storm. Pretending to still be asleep he turned on his bedroll to cast a glimpse of the fire.

The fire burning red and bright,

ash stained the broken city's walls

the shadow rose under that night

the elves fled from their shining halls.

One brave warrior would not evade

amidst the blaze he dared to stand,

and did alone oppose the shade,

Orcrist shining in his hand.

Elrohir was sitting beside the fire; it was his voice Thorin had heard. Fili, awake again rested comfortably on his blankets, his head and shoulders supported by a saddle. He smiled, listening to the ballad mourning the fall of Gondolin. There was a startling familiarity with the scene, Thorin noticed, and he did not understand it.

He felled the Balrog on the heights,

caught in the deathly blaze

he now is sleeping in the light

Until the end of days.

The ballad ended, the last echoes of the tune ringing out. Fili turned his head and smiled at the elven warrior. "You used to sing that to Kili after that injury, too."

"The best way to keep him sleeping and rested, it seems to work on both of you, to keep the dreams away." Elrohir replied. "There are few that will sleep so peacefully with just a tune to guard them."

"Our Uncle used to do that," Fili's eyes strayed to the low fire. "When we were wandering, sometimes when it was cold and dark, he'd just let us snuggle into his fur coat. We could hear the storm and the wolves howl… and he'd just hum these songs, ancient dwarven ballads, to make us sleep." Speaking of Thorin seemed to startle him up from his pleasant waking haze. "Thorin… is he alright?"

"Alright and only lightly injured, still asleep too I'd dare to guess." The elf said, talking a pot out of the hot embers and stirred something into the scalding liquid inside. "Your brother is sleeping over there; he fretted over you half the night."

"Get Boromir to look after him, he is good at being very reasonable and his presence seems to have a calming effect on my brother." The blond dwarf advised sagely and sniffed the bitter herbal scent from the pot. "Oh no… don't tell me it was nightsblood again on that arrow? Can't they just put their arrows into the dirt like any decent archer will?"

Elrohir put the pot beside Fili. "It was Nightsblood, and no small amount of it." He began to remove the bandage on Fili's arm, carefully cleaning away all the old poultice from the wound, contrary to the ones during the night it was not black any more, but only slightly green. Fili's blood was nearly clean. "I saw what happened," Elrohir told him. "that arrow was meant for your Uncle, you moved into the arrow's path when you saw it."

"I'm not Kili, I cannot deflect them," Fili stated a bit self-consciously. "Thorin did not see the archer, hand had his hands full. I had not expected the poison. Mahal, I did have some Elfroot, bloodroot thorn and lionheart in my pack… but that was all used by some trolls to spice up my comrades."

"Trolls?" Elrohir had begun to put the new poultice on the wound, Fili made a fist, forcing himself to hold his arms still.

"Yes, we ran into them near Elderberry Hill and were very nearly cooked. You'll love that story Elrohir, exactly the kind of trouble you always accuse some adventuring dwarves to get into."

They both laughed softly, entirely at ease with each other. Thorin did not move, nor give himself away. When Elrohir stated that Fili had taken the arrow for him, he froze. The lad had nearly died from a weapon aimed for Thorin himself. It took all the self-control he had to lie still and not hurry over to Fili. Instead he watched his nephew conversing with the elven prince.

"… luckily we never had to explain to Uncle Thorin where Kili got that scar on his belly. I don't want to lie him, Elrohir. And… I hate deceiving him like that." The blond dwarf had managed to sit up halfway, leaning his healthy arm on the saddle. "And I hate that I have to deny your friendship but… I couldn't take his scorn."

"I doubt he would scorn you, Fili." The elf said. "He cares deeply for you, it showed yesterday so clearly. If killing Smaug bare-handed was the only way to save your life, I would not count on that drake to live much longer."

Fili couldn't help but laugh. "I think he would take that as a compliment." He said gasping for air. "But still… I understand why he dislikes your kind, Elrohir, not that he dislikes you but why. He carries so much pain, so much loss… sometimes I wish my father had survived, so he'd have at least someone to still protect him."

This time Thorin did not manage to stay still, the self-depreciating words of his nephew cut into him. He saw Fili freeze mid-sentence when the young dwarf realized that Thorin was awake, the dwarven leader got up swiftly and joined Fili by the fire, he could see the apprehensive glance of his nephew, who clearly expected anger and a good telling off. Instead Thorin squatted down beside him, gently clasping the young dwarf's shoulders with his powerful hands. "I mourned your father, Fili," Thorin's voice was rough when he spoke. "I mourned him because I had lost a friend, because he died for me, and even as he left me that day, he left the most wonderful gift behind – you. And I wouldn't want any other to have my back." Much as Fili reminded him of Dari, even to the point that he had taken that wretched arrow to save Thorin, he would not wish for Fili to be lost to them, not even if it somehow could bring Dari back.

Ignoring the pain in his arm Fili actually hugged his Uncle, he may not always feel up to the task of protecting the dwarven leader adequately, but he'd do all he could. He did not want to lose the man who had been like a father to him ever since the day Dari had fallen.

Elrohir had risen and quietly turned to leave to give the dwarves some privacy, but Thorin pulled back from the hug, exchanging a smile with his nephew that only Fili ever would see. "Stay, elf." He said, not all that gruffly. "and tell me about how you came to befriend my boys."

"Um… Uncle," Fili spoke up. "It's quite a long tale; I doubt you'll want to hear it."

Thorin could easily tell that there probably was more to this than his modest nephew might ever admit. The elven warrior had returned to the spot where he had sat before. "We met nearly eight years ago under Mt. Gundabad in the North."

"Mt. Gundabad?" Thorin asked a freezing chill inside him. That mountain was the deepest of Orc territories not far from the ruins of Carn Dum.

"We stumbled over a hidden Stonefoot clan settlement near the ruins of Framsburg," Fili explained, honestly. "they captured us and first we thought they would kill us to keep their place secret. But instead they traded us to their neighbors – the goblins. They brought us north to Mount Gundabad and made us work in their forges. We had not had the chance to even think of escape when Elrohir and his riders raided the mountain, to express his royal displeasure about some kidnapped elves."

Thorin could see that Fili wanted to keep the tale light and complied. "The Orcs were so stupid to capture elves? They should have known that never ends well."

"I am not sure what they put into their breeding pits but they certainly do not contain any intelligence." Elrohir observed with a measure of arrogance only the elves would show towards their old archenemies. "When we arrived at the mountain we quickly discovered that they had a number of captives, but did not find out people. Fili and Kili were kept in the works…"

"The greater forge," Fili supplied helpfully.

"And they were the first of those we freed who had heard of our people and were able to tell us where they were held. Only that the description was…"

"Tenth deep, fourteenth level beyond the main waterworks," Fili helped out again. "We could see that the elves had no orientation whatsoever in that maze Mount Gundabad is and offered to guide them where they needed to go."

"It was a brave offer," Elrohir deftly took over the story, seeing Fili would gloss over their own good deeds. "They were injured and exhausted from the Orc's hospitality, but they still offered to guide us at once without a hint of hesitation. I dare say we would not have found our people in time in that maze of tunnels. When we arrived in the waterworks we found not only our people but also some creature that resided there. Multi-armed with bladed claws and an armored body…"

"A Deep Watcher," Fili helped him, knowing Thorin would know at once what it was. Durin's house at least knew of all the ancient and often nasty beings living in the deeps of the world. "Elrohir killed it, jumping right on the beast and cutting its arms off."

"Not quick enough, though. The creature had nearly impaled one of our people with its bladed claws but Kili stood between the beast and our wounded fighter…"

"Sliced his belly," Fili said with a shudder. "nearly killed him."

"The claw sliced his belly?" Thorin asked, he knew enough of these beings to know how close a call this must have been. "But such a wound, even if one survives it… it takes weeks to heal." And suddenly he understood. "That was the reason why you were gone so long that winter." The two of them had been away much longer than planned and only reappeared in late spring.

"Elrohir and his brother saved Kili, and got him back to his feet over that winter." Fili confirmed. "We have been friends ever since. But… we did not know how to tell you."

Thorin looked down for a moment, his long hair hiding his expression. He understood so very well how that friendship between his sons and the elven warriors had begun, a long time ago he had been similar in spite of the warnings of his own father about elves. He had not cared, trusted those Elves that had been friendly with him and… how had it ended? And yet, he had also lost the friendship of others since the dragon attacked, many a friendship among dwarves had grown cold when Erebor was lost. He realized his silence made Fili uncomfortable.

"A long time ago my father berated me for my choices in friends," he said to Fili. "He disliked most of them and made no effort to hide that fact. In some cases his warnings proved all too true when Erebor was lost and those 'friends' showed they were anything but. Others though proved true friends in my darkest hours; Dwalin and your father's friendships were a blessing during the dark times that followed the fall of Erebor. In the end no one can tell whom you should be friends with, and I am proud that you are making your own choices."

ADL

Noon brought bad news, Aelin, the Noldor rider of the troop returned from scouting in haste. "There are more orcs about, Elrohir," he told the Prince. "They must have gathered in the night somewhere west of us. There were warg tracks all over the land. We may have several hundred of them on our hands before nightfall."

"Several hundred?" Elrohir asked. "Since when do they amass such numbers?"

"They haven't done that for a long time, not since losing the battle of Moria." Aelin agreed grimly. "If we want to fight this out, we need more men. Or we play a shadow game and vanish right in front of their noses."

"My father would not appreciate a battle right on his doorstep," Elrohir forestalled the comment he could see coming with a gesture. "And he is right in that. You know who is residing as a guest in Rivendell at the moment. This is not the time. Have the horses ready, we will march soon." The Noldor bowed and went to rouse the camp.

Elrohir went back too and found Thorin. "We will have to break camp quickly," he said. "Much as I am loath to allow Fili moved already. There are more orcs coming, many more."

The dwarven King rose from where he had been sitting. "Will they be a danger to your borders?" he asked.

"There has yet to be an Orc born to cross our hidden borders," Elrohir replied, surprised at the dwarf, Thorin might be insisting on his hate of elves, but he would not willingly bring the Orcs down on them. He was a complicated individual, and a proud warrior. In this moment Elrohir made a choice. "We can bring you and your people with us to Rivendell and keep your presence there silent, if you wish."

Thorin locked gazes with the elven warrior, who seemed to have made it a point to be a puzzle to him. He understood what the offer meant, it would mean not having to deal with the court of Lord Elrond, or with whatever tangles awaited there. It was an offer of help, and one that would spare him having to bow to the Elf Lord. "Why do you offer your help?" he asked the Elf directly.

The elf crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Maybe because I hold sympathies for your cause, Thorin Oakenshield and respect for you." He said. "At this very moment the White Council assembles in Rivendell, Saruman, my esteemed grandmother Lady Galadriel, my father, and Gandalf will have to attend. Whatever their dealings may be, I do not think that you will want to get entangled in their plans." Elrohir had little patience for such dealings; he preferred a clean fight to politics, contrary to his brother who could easily navigate the mazes of diplomacy.

Whosoever wishes to deal with the elves must learn to play their games, chess, King's Hill and their shadow play. The latter as ever shifting as their own minds. Thorin recalled his mother telling him that, when she instructed him on diplomacy. He had never had the patience for anything beyond chess and he preferred Dwarven chess to Elven chess any day. But he understood what move of the Shadow's Play was offered him here, to sidestep the center of power and move unfettered. "We will come with you," he announced, accepting the offer.

Elrohir had helped Fili to mount his horse, and leading the animal. The Elves had the dwarves spread along their marching line, with all of them walking, except for those injured. "Stay close, once you see the path, stay on it, do not stray." Elrohir told Thorin, who walked with him at front of the group. The dwarf understood, the way elven travelling was legendary. They passed through woods and wilds like an eerie apparition, untouchable and unreachable. Most who saw them believed that Elves were just like that. But there was more to it. Elrohir began to sing, a tune of haunting sadness, in a tongue of his people. Several voices echoed his song as they walked, and a path opened before them, the woods parted for them, the rocks gave way, there was no obstacle for them, nothing to hinder their passing through the land. Like a dream the whole group passed from the hill and vanished into the hidden valley and left no trace behind.

ADL

When the valley of Imladris opened before them, Boromir stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the last homely house east of the sea. When he had first come here Kili had been with him too and they too had been saved from the Orcs by Elrohir. Strange, how some things seemed to echo in this journey.

"Boromir?" Kili had stopped beside him. "You look pensive… like you know this place."

"Not like you do," Boromir replied, he had heard most of the conversations in the morning, having woken at the first noise. He knew that Kili and Elrohir had been friends in the other life, but he had never learned how it had begun. But… it did not matter anymore. The longer they journeyed the less he felt connected to that other life, he was here now, and he belonged here.

Kili smiled, looking down, it was a gesture that much mirrored Thorin's body language. "I spend most of the time up on Hawk's Watch, confined to bed. Fili got to see all the good places. Come, we better catch up to the others."

They hurried to reach the others again. Instead of crossing the bridge into the heart of Imladris, they turned left and followed a path rising up the valley. Here Gandalf left them, going alone to meet Lord Elrond and those who were assembled there on business beyond theirs, while the others were led and to an elven fortification that guarded the pass road to the Misty Mountains. Even a kingdom as hidden as Rivendell needed to guard against the dangers from the mountains. Hawk's Watch as the small citadel was called, was under the command of Rivendell's Princes and none of the elven warriors there would ask questions on whom they brought there.

The citadel proved to be a true relief, the ability to just rest without the need to be watchful or the simple comfort of being able to have a bath were not to be underestimated. And while Boromir could tell that most of the dwarves felt like fish out of the water, they had travelled among strangers for too many years to let it bother them. Now that night fell most of them were resting, making the best of the time they had, for soon they would be on the move again.

Boromir himself could not sleep; he had gone outside into the main yard of Hawk's Watch to walk for a bit. He knew Thorin was with the Princes and had called Kili to come with him and he wondered if Thorin would find the answers he needed there. The courtyard was not really dark, there were elven lanterns casting a silver light on it, like the echoes of a full moon's light. It made shadows stand out all the stronger, easy to startle anyone who was used to reacting when he saw even the slightest bit of movement. He had to exercise some calm to not jump at every shadow movement he could see. He frowned when he saw another shadow moving above near the arched windows. Looking again he realized that this was not a shadow moving because some lamp was swinging in the wind. Someone was climbing along the sill, ducking to avoid being seen. The figure was too small to be an elf, and the company burglar, who might have fitted that size, was deep asleep with the others.

The Gondorian's eyes followed the figure as it crept closer to the windows. An orc scout could have that size, if it was a thin one. Azog really meant business then. Boromir mounted the stairs leading up to the wall, he could see the sill the shadowy figure was standing on. It ran all along the building. Jumping on it Boromir was grateful that years of war in a crumbling underground city had taught him some balance, because the sill might be made for elf feet, but certainly not for men. He reached the corner and saw the small figure duck behind the large arched window. Then peering inside Boromir's heart nearly stood still when he realized that the Princes and Thorin were in there. Acting quickly, he grabbed the figure by the neck, jumping down from the sill, landing them both on the wall below.

"Ouch!" A light voice spat. "That's so mean." The small figure managed to squirm out of his grip with astounding agility.

The picture of the orc scout evaporated when Boromir realized that the small figure was a boy of about ten years, a human boy at that, who glared at him with the indignation of his young years. A child… no assassin, no murderous gambit of the pale orc, relief flooded through him. "What were you doing up there?" he asked the boy.

The boy made a face. "My mother said that a Dwarven King was staying at the Watch, I wanted to see him." He told him like it was obvious. "The dwarf in there is he really a King? He looks like a warrior."

"Thorin is a King and a great warrior," Boromir found himself smiling at the boy's antics. Children would always be the same, he and his brother had not been any better when they had been that age. "What is your name, young scout?" he asked it good humor.

"Estel. And yours?"

"Boromir." They had begun to walk away from the window and down to the courtyard again. The warrior suddenly felt like he had been slapped. Long long ago, during their stay in Lorien Aragorn had told Boromir that he had been a boy and snuck out in the night to see the dwarves when they came through Rivendell. Somehow Boromir had never really imagined Aragorn as a boy, just like any other, curious and adventurous.

"Is it true that the Dwarf King… King Thorin… that he is going to fight a dragon?" The boy asked. "Is he that great a fighter?"

"He is the greatest warrior of his people," Boromir replied, seeing the boy was fishing for stories. "He has to be, his people are a brave and proud nation, they would not respect him otherwise."

"He has fought many battles?" Estel asked, his eyes shining. He had not yet been sent away back to his mother and gladly followed the great man-warrior through the Watch.

"Come with me and I'll tell you about them." Boromir led Estel to the place where the dwarves had their camp, they sat down a small distance away so as to not disturb the others who slept. Estel sat down opposite of Boromir who began to tell him about Erebor, the dragon, Azanulbizar and some other great deeds of Thorin he had heard of. Having heard these stories often during his life made it easier to recount them and Estel hung on his every word, listening with wide eyes.

"So is he really going to fight the dragon?" he asked in the end. "But why… he could die."

"Because his people need their home back and he wants to protect them, that's what a good King does. He fights for his people, protects them." Boromir said. "And that dragon is dangerous to others too, were he to leave his lair again many more could die."

The door opened and an elf woman looked in. "Ah… there you are Estel, your mother was worried." She said.

The boy sighed. "I have to go, my mother is waiting." He said, rising to his feet. "Thank you for all the stories, Boromir."

"Wait a moment," Boromir went swiftly to his pack, since he had a longsword again he had not used his twin blades much, he never would be a good dual-handed fighter. They were his reserve weapons now. Guardian and Avenger were identical blades, he weighed them in his hand and then he took Guardian and went back to the boy, handing him the blade. It might be a short-sword for Boromir but for Estel it was a two-handed weapon at this time. "Eriador is a dangerous place, Estel," he said. "One day you'll need this."

The boy's eyes beamed at him with all the admiration only a boy like him could have for his first weapon. "I will keep it, always." He promised before the Elf Lady insisted he come with her.

"You are going to need it, Thorongil," Boromir said to the closing door.

ADL

Thorin moved his third gryphon on the board to attack Elrohir's war-mage; the elf was a good chess player and played with a flair that reminded the dwarf of the way the Elven warrior fought. Thorin's own game was slower, but more solid and he could tell that he had gotten the Elf in trouble. To the side sat Kili, watching amused, sometimes about to give advice but knowing better than to do that.

"You have not asked me what brings my people and I here," Thorin observed, as he watched Elrohir moving another game piece.

"Should I?" Elrohir asked back. "You are not answerable to me. I have my own guesses on where you are headed, rumors are all about and if it is true, then you are truly brave to try and dare the dragon."

"We have a map we can't read," Kili said, shaking his head. "One might think that great-grandfather or whoever made it would have been less cryptic."

Thorin shot him a glare; sometimes the boy was too free with his tongue. But then… here was his choice. He could choose for himself whom he trusted with the map or could wait for Gandalf to decide on that. Thorin preferred his own decisions. He discounted their chess game for the moment and revealed the map. "My father left me this, Elrohir, he believed it to be the key to get Erebor back. I cannot decipher the secrets he hid in it."

Elladan, who had been sitting aside with several books rose to join them. Earlier that evening he had identified the sword Thorin had found in the troll hoard as Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver, a blade one of the greatest legends of Gondolin had wielded. "May I?" he asked politely. Thorin handed him the map, it was easy to see who of the twins was the scholar.

"All stories about the attack on Erebor say that the dragon smashed through your main gate," Elrohir observed. "at least that's how the Dirge of Erebor describes it."

There was something Thorin found he liked about this elven warrior; there was not a shred of mercy in him. He did not try to be delicate about the topic or to ask gently, he spoke as a warrior, requiring information. It made speaking to him easier. "What the dragon broke was the regular gate." He said. "The day we fled… a wounded warrior remained behind and closed the siege doors behind us, to prevent the dragon from coming after us immediately. He sacrificed himself so we would have a chance. The gate is shut and there is no force in this world that can move it from the outside."

"But the dragon must have a way to fly out," Elrohir said. "for while he has not been seen for sixty years, he has been seen before, flying from and to the mountain."

"The great dome," Thorin said. "it was a grand hall in the mountain, close to the top. It was shattered the day of the attack. Through that hole the dragon could fly and it is out of our reach. Up there in the eternal ice of the peak, there is neither way nor path."

"Which is why the secret door existed," Elladan said thoughtfully. "there is a Cirith Mithil inscription on this map… or several, but only one that can be revealed at this time. Moon Runes can only be seen by the moon of the shape and season of the day they were written." He approached the high window, raising the map into the light of the moon outside.

Thorin joined him, seeing the silvery letters appear on the parchment. How long had it beend since he had seen the silver set of pen and ink that were needed to write such runes? The ancient Khuzdul script gave him little trouble to translate, and neither of the twins offered unwanted opinions on what he would know anyway. "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole." He read the text out loud. "This means there is little time to be lost, the summer is waning, Durin's day will be upon us soon enough."

"I will guide you out of the valley at first light then, Thorin." Elrohir said.

ADL

In the fresh light of a new morning Galadriel walked swiftly over the wide paths of Rivendell towards the Hawk's Watch. The meeting of the white council had been going on all night and even longer than she had anticipated with Saruman being especially testy. He was concerned with some of Mithrandir's plans, and had been frustrated that there had been no trace of the dwarves and their leader. The White Lady had been amused for she knew very well where to look for those he searched for, even as Elrond pretended not to notice what his sons were doing. For all her respect for Mithrandir, she did not believe the dragon an immediate concern. He could be dealt with at a later time. What had kept her attention on that travelling company was something else, an echo… an echo of something that was not right, an echo of change, of something that might yet be. And while she disliked puzzles she could not solve, this also would have to wait. Her errand was of much greater importance.

The guards of the Hawk's Watch made respectful room for her when she walked into the citadel. The small bastion was a necessity for the hidden valley, bordering on the Misty Mountains and with less protection than Lorien's borders, such things helped them to keep away the dangers of the cold mountains. She found Elrohir swiftly, she did not need to search for him, she knew where to find him. He stood with Aelin, discussing something. The sight of the Noldor called up painful memories for the Lady, Aelin had the appearance of his proud, defiant house. When he saw her he bowed and excused himself at once.

Elrohir greeted her with a bow of his own. Her grandson… the child of her Celebrían. Where his brother Elladan had inherited the softer yet sadder disposition of the Sindar, all the stubborn and fierce traits of the Noldor legacy seemed to manifest in his brother. "Elrohir, I have need of you." She told her grandson as they walked together on the walls. "Something is stirring in the darkness; a shadow has fallen on Mirkwood. A shadow I cannot yet penetrate to see how deep its reach is. I cannot fight such a shadow without knowing whom it may have affected."

"The Woodsmen?" Elrohir asked. "They live in the southern parts of the forest."

"No, it is not them that I worry about." Galadriel's eyes went up to the mountains, where storm clouds were gathering. "But our kin living in these woods. They have long lived close to the growing shadow and I do not know if it has reached them. They have changed and their decisions have become strange."

"You think Thranduil's cowardice could be explained by that?" Elrohir asked thoughtfully. "But how did it get a hold of him?"

Galadriel looked at her grandson knowingly. "His will would not carry him to destruction but away from it." She chastised her grandson lightly.

"Away from the world you mean," the warrior crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly willing to argue. "he can hide in his woods right until the orcs come and burn them down."

Such fierce fire, such stubborn will, such a love for the world in all her darkness. "Beware, Elrohir," Galadriel spoke softly. "if you embrace the world like that it will burn you and hurt you until your broken spirit will long for the respite of the undying lands."

She found her gaze met by defiant eyes, grey as the storm above the mountains. "To love the world means embracing the pain it will give us, to accept that such love will carry pain and loss. I would rather feel such pain than to feel nothing in a protective shell."

He deeply loved this world and she feared for him. Like his siblings he lived with the youth of the Eldar, but he would be asked to choose his path one day, for he too carried the blood of two races. But such a decision was far along the paths he may or may not choose to follow. "I need you to take your riders and go to Mirkwood." Galadriel told him. "And find out if the woodland realm has been touched by the Shadow emanating from Dol Guldur. I need to know what dangers they will be in, or what hold the shadow has on them. But do not take your brother with you."

His answered with one word. "Why?"

She knew what he asked; he rarely separated from his twin. "I am sending you into danger, Inyo," she whispered. "The world is shifting under our very feet, a whirlwind has touched us and the leaves are ripped into the maelstrom, and I do not see the way out. But taking your brother with you echoes disaster… danger."

He approached her, gently taking her hands in his. "Then I will ride, and find that doom you feel. Let us ride the whirlwind." He could say it to her and smile confidently. She knew he would take flight in the whirlwind, like the Hawk above the storm. Maybe he was the bird she was seeing in her vision swooping down on a lonely mountain.

Author's Notes

Thanks and hugs for the wonderful Harrylee94… I could get used to you reading my chapters out loud. You should produce audiobooks. :D

I am going with the assumption that Tolkien places in "The Hobbit" that there are "wicked dwarves" who were allied with the goblins and other nasty people.

The Moon Runes: I am going with the book version where it was enough to hold the map up into the moonlight. While the observatory in the movie was impressive, it would be impractical to use moon runes at all if one needed such a crystal to read them.

Inyo = the dictionary gave me that as the Vanyarin Quenya for "grandchild". As Galadriel is part Vanyar I chose that form for her to use.