Chapter 6, everyone!
We're now entering the second part of the story, the second day (and it's less than two days until I'll finally get to watch Battle of the Five Armies) and I'll hope you'll like it :)
As usual; 'thank you' to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! I really appreciate that you take time to read this story of mine.
I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.
Enjoy!
Chapter 6: Day 2 – Thranduil
Thranduil was up before the first light of the sun had appeared in the horizon.
He had not been able to rest. The wind had howled strongly through the whole night, a sound most horrid to his sensitive ears. Closing his eyes had graced him with images of memories he rather forget, so little peace came to him that night.
The camp was still in the early hour, something Thranduil found to be a relief. A raven cawed somewhere up the mountainside and there were small signs that everyone were wakening up, or – in the healers' cases – replace one another. He admired the healers' spirit and if he had been more versed in the skills of healing and not drained of strength, he would have assisted them, though his Court Healer had told him that he would probably do more harm than good with his cold touch.
Thranduil let out a sigh, walking away from his tent as the sun slowly appeared in the horizon, a ball of gold. He moved through the camp as silent as a shadow. His armor had been removed the evening before and he felt more at ease without it and being back into his usual robes. Yet it also felt strange.
A couple of Dwarves stumbled across his path, hair and beard in disarray and yawning so loudly that Thranduil thought they would wake up the whole camp. They paid the Elvenking little attention as they walked by and Thranduil felt a small pang of annoyance. Without his crown and armor made by the best smiths in Middle Earth, he was just another Elf to all the Dwarves.
They were expecting a delivery of food and fabric from his Realm this morning. Ravens had been diligently flying back and forth between Erebor, Mirkwood and even the Iron Hills, just so that everything should be arranged and taken care of as quickly as possible. The first days of winter were the easiest ones, but then it only got worse.
Thranduil stopped at the end of the camp and looked out over the lake. It was a clear surface of silver, with the ruins of Esgaroth a black blur in the distance. He could see something moving further away and even though the distance was great, he recognized his people and their detailed carved carts. The wind even carried the scent of food with it.
The Elves marched with a quick pace and he did not have to wait long before they arrived. He went to greet them. Two horses were dragging two different carts; one with food and one with fabrics and tools. Ten Elves had accompanied them. Thranduil appreciatively stroke the horses' muzzles, muttering sweet words to them. They blinked at him with intelligent eyes. Then he proceeded with greeting his butler.
"Galion. Good of you to come with such quick notice. I hope everything went well?"
"Yes, My Lord", said Galion and he seemed to be completely sober for once. "All is in order. We marched the whole night, but nothing bothered us."
"Good." He addressed all of them: "You have done well. If five of you could lead the cart with supplies to the west part of camp and report to a Man called Percy, it would be most helpful. The sooner the Men get to rebuild their home, the sooner we can return to ours." He paused, waited for agreement, Before adding: "Oh, and it would be the wisest to inform the Dwarves of your arrival as well or else they might get…. annoyed."
Five Elves – dressed in green and dark brown with bows strapped to their backs – nodded and bowed. One of them patted the horse dragging the cart and it neighed, but moved with an elegance that would have been unusual for a horse belonging to a mortal, but was not surprising for one belonging to Elven kind. Thranduil watched them go across the desolated land.
"Galion and the rest, you're with me", he demanded, turning on his heels and expected the others to follow. "There are many who are hungry and this will come as a blessing."
"What are we getting in return?" asked Galion when he came to walk almost beside the King. Behind them, the other Elves silently performed their task and soon the horse was trotting along with them. "My Lord?"
Thranduil regarded his butler with eyes as frosty as the upcoming winter. He swept his eyes over the camp and its miserable state.
"We get an alliance and perhaps a jewel or two from the treasure hoard."
"Is that all?"
Thranduil glanced at his butler out of the corner of his eyes. A thoughtful frown came to be on his lips.
"For now."
The camp had risen with the sun and the air rang of the sound of hammers against steel and roosters' crowing. People prepared for another day of hardship, not knowing what to expect.
Thranduil and his entourage were exposed to hungry gazes from the race of Men, eyes shining with gratitude and their faces thin. The Dwarves were not as open with their emotions, but not even they could hide their love for food in their eyes. Thranduil resisted curling his lips into a snide smile. His fondness of Dwarves had been killed long ago.
Outside the tent keeping the boxes of food undisturbed was two Dwarves. One was fat with a massive ginger beard and the other thin, with black whiskers and an odd-looking hat. Both were wearing armor over threadbare clothes and they did not falter from their posts.
As the Elves approached the Dwarves stood up from the logs they were occupying. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at them. He had not expected the guards to be like this and he thought he should order some of his own to stand guard, watching out for hungry thieves in the night. He would not be surprised if the fat Dwarf ate the supplies by himself. Beside him, Galion scoffed and the horse and the cart stopped. For a moment, Elves and Dwarves silently watched each other.
"You are on guard duty?" asked Thranduil and broke the silence between them.
"I am", confirmed the Dwarf with the hat. "My brother's in charge."
"Really?" drawled Thranduil and kept his skepticism to himself. "I was not aware of that such a decision had been made, Master Dwarf."
"It has", said the other Dwarf in a soft voice that was almost as clumsy as he. "Lord Daín gave the order, but King Thorin the demand."
King Thorin. Then this must be Erebor Dwarves, because Thranduil was aware of that only Dwarves of the long-lost kingdom called the King under the Mountain by his true title. The Elvenking tapped a slender finger on his chin.
"I see."
"You don't remember us?" asked the Dwarf with the outrageous hat with a smile on his face and a cold gleam in his eyes. "You threw us in the dungeons."
Thranduil schooled his face into the mask of the true King of the Woodland Realm, a face that betrayed nothing and could have been carved out of marble. He looked down at the two Dwarves.
"I recall that you trespassed into my kingdom, refused to tell me why you were there and interrupting our party."
"And you denied us food, but look at us now." The Dwarf shook his head in an almost amazed way. "Fate works in odd ways."
"Perhaps." Thranduil inclined his head as if to say he agreed. He gestured towards the cart. "Food, as promised. You can tell your leader that."
The Dwarf smiled good-naturally and swept of his hat in a mock bow.
"Of course." He turned to the larger Dwarf. "You'll keep the fort standing, Bombur and I will be back soon. Just going to drop by Balin and deliver the news."
The ginger-haired Dwarf – Bombur apparently – nodded and regarded the Elves with careful eyes, almost as if he expected them to run off with the food. Thranduil was feeling a bit affronted. He nodded towards the Dwarves with icy politeness and ordered two of his men to stay with the Dwarf Bombur. He chewed on his lower lip as the two tall and slender Elves came to stand next to him, though keeping their distance. The hatted Dwarf grimaced but offered his brother an encouraging smile and Thranduil a salute before setting off down the path.
"Now, My Lord?" wondered Galion. "What are your orders?"
"Help unpacking the food. Then I suggest…."
Thranduil was interrupted by the arrival of a Dwarf. He panted and sported a nasty bruise on his face and his right hand was bandaged. His dark eyes were wide. Bombur was the first one of them to react.
"Ori!" he exclaimed and looked worriedly over the other Dwarf. "What's happened? What's wrong? Is it Thorin?"
Ori shook his head frantically and looked to Thranduil. The old Elf felt something aching to dread bloom in his chest. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
"Yes?" he said impatiently. "Speak!"
"My Lord, there's been a Goblin attack."
Murmurs broke out amongst the Elven warriors and they drew their swords. Thranduil stood still. Of course Mithrandir should be right. He was a Wizard after all. Thranduil drew himself up to his fullest height and spoke in a voice like lightening flashing across the sky:
"When and where? What precautions have been made?"
"Lord – I mean King – Daín sent out some of his men to help your warriors to track them down. I believe your son is in charge of the scouting." While the Dwarf looked as if he was on the verge of breaking down, his voice was calm.
Thranduil turned to Galion and at that moment he emitted such power that his butler took a step back.
"Prepare my armor", said the King coldly. "The war is not yet done."
So, that was Thranduil again. Any thoughts?
I cannot promise when the next chapter will be up, but it should be sometime in the end of this week or in the beginning of the next.
Thanks for reading!