Chapter 8, everyone!
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I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.
Enjoy!
Chapter 8: Day 2 – Gandalf
Gandalf was worried.
He had been running around the whole morning and tried to get a clear picture of the Goblin attack that had occurred in the early hours. The Wizard had heard many different tales of it already – because news spread like wildfire – but he had not yet come across someone who knew the truth. Gandalf had warned the three leaders of that something like this could happen. Goblins were nasty creatures, but clever in a cruel way. It had been shown when they had attacked during the morning and managed to avoid the Elven guards Thranduil had placed around camp.
He leaned on his staff as he hurried towards the place where he had heard the three Kings would have a short meeting. He felt annoyed that they had not called for him. Without his warning, they would have fought each other and been slaughter by the Wargs and Goblins. A Wizard's work was never done.
The Hobbit was still missing and that was indeed an evidence of that Gandalf had a lot to do. It bothered him greatly that no one had spotted the short, curly-haired man and he was starting to fear the worst. He was not alone in this; the Company of Thorin Oakenshield was also upset and had gone looking for Bilbo on their own, but without any luck. It seemed to have thinned out as the hours passed.
He heard Daín's booming voice before he had glimpsed him in person and he followed it, leading him to the ones he had wanted to meet. They were standing at a safe distance from one another; Daín red in the face, Thranduil with a haughty expression and Bard frowning, looking grim. Around them was a group of Men, Elves and Dwarves. Gandalf managed to spot several familiar faces. He sighed and increased the speed of his steps.
"What are you three arguing about?" he demanded to know, barging in without waiting on acknowledgement. He was tired and far too annoyed to care. "And what about the Goblin attack? I advised you on keeping a close guard in the outskirts of camp."
"We did, Tharkûn", said Daín gruffly, turning his dark eyes towards the taller man. "But we had not expected the Goblin-scum to attack while it was sunny."
"They do not play fair", said Gandalf and fixed the Elvenking with a stare, bushy eyebrows set in a frown. "And where were your warriors when this incident took place?"
"On duty elsewhere, patrolling", replied Thranduil icily. "We foolishly thought that the Dwarves could handle standing guard on their own for a mere moment."
All that was spoken in a strong, cold voice like that of the winds of winter. Gandalf repressed a sigh and the feeling of wanting to rub his temples like Bard was doing. Not that he would have been able to, with one arm in a sling. At the fair Elvenking's obvious blame, Daín drew himself to his fullest height. He glared, eyes flashing, and he made quite the impressive figure where he stood.
"Careful now", he said in a dangerously polite voice. "At least my men fought. Yours cannot even claim that honor."
"What honor is there in losing?"
"Gentlemen", said Bard before a full-blown argument could start and Gandalf admired the Man's calm. "Please. We have more important things to discuss than to quibble."
It appeared that none of the other two had remembered that they had an audience. They looked around and with rap words, Thranduil ordered his Elves to return to whatever they had been doing before and Daín spoke to his men in their ancient language, while Bard – looking almost apologetic – asked the people of Laketown to give them some privacy. Gandalf watched the different shows of power with mild interest.
When the four of them were relatively alone, Gandalf impatiently tapped his staff and got his long-awaited explanation. There were a couple of wounded Men and Dwarves, adding to the already enormous number, and three dead. Thranduil told about how he had led a group of Elves and Dwarves up the Mountain and killed the Goblins who had managed to escape.
"They did not tell us much", he admitted. "But I suspect there are a few survivors, though the Wargs have retreated."
"How did you get them to speak?" asked Bard wearily, though he looked as if he already knew the answer.
The Elvenking smiled, a cold smile with his eyes flashing in a slightly dangerous way that spoke of that the Wood Elves were wilder than their kin.
"I have my ways."
"Did they scream?" wondered Daín, a slight note of bloodlust in his voice. At Thranduil's nod he smiled with satisfaction. "Good."
"Anything else?" asked Gandalf who did not find the talk of violence to be a good one. "You need to trust each other and ask for help and advice. Otherwise an alliance will be useless."
The other three were silent; Daín looked shrewd, Thranduil haughty and Bard tired. They were an odd group.
"I'll see to my men now", said Bard and broke the silence. He turned to Daín. "Then I would very much like to discuss our promised payment."
"I have told you that I have no power over what to do with the gold in Erebor as long as the rightful King still lives."
"How is Thorin faring?" asked Gandalf in a concerned voice.
Daín sighed grimly and looked tired behind his wild beard.
"It did not look all too good when I left him", the Dwarf leader admitted, "but he is strong, my cousin is, and stubborn. He if anyone would make it through."
Gandalf hummed non-committedly. He knew of Thorin Oakenshield's stubbornness after having travelled across half the world with him. The turn of subject caused the tension to thicken and the mood became tense.
"I wish for him a swift recovery", said Bard politely, though he did not look overjoyed, and bowed towards Daín. "But I must see to the burial of my people now."
Without waiting to be excused – Gandalf was pleased to see that the Man didn't cower much around the other two Kings any longer – Bard took his leave. Daín excused himself not long after that, but not before promising that he would look more into the question about the gold so that they could move forwards in their contract of alliance. Gandalf had a feeling he would do it gladly. That left Gandalf with only Thranduil for company, whom he was not particularly keen to talk with at the moment.
"What now?" he huffed and the Elvenking looked a bit taken a back at his annoyed tone.
Before the fair-haired man could utter a sound, a booming voice being carried with the wind sounded and shook them all to their core:
"Gandalf the Grey!"
Gandalf's head snapped to the side as Beorn came striding towards them, taller than everybody else and savage-looking. The sight made the Wizard relax and Thranduil took a cautious step back. Beorn seemed ignorant of the stares he attracted, but walked on as if he had not a care in the world.
"Master Beorn", greeted Gandalf pleasantly with the shadow of a smile. "How good of you to find me."
"One of your Dwarves told me you wanted to see me", said Beorn after giving the Elvenking a brief look. "I had nothing better to do." Then he frowned as his dark eyes scanned Gandalf's face.
"Why so sad?" wondered the large, hairy man and looked curious. "I can smell it on you, but I don't see why. The battle's won and the Goblins are dead, a big part of their army. They will be weak a long time forward."
Of course the Skin-changer was pleased at the mangled bodies of Goblins rotting away. Beorn despised Goblins and he had helped killed a few, even Bolg, son of the legendary Azog. He was a fierce man with a gentle heart beneath the layers of wildness.
"I cannot find our esteemed Mr Baggins", Gandalf confessed and saying it out loud made it more real.
"The little bunny?" Beorn frowned. "That is not good."
"No", agreed Gandalf with a sigh. "It is not. Nothing have been spotted of him, neither hide nor hair. It worries me."
Beorn stretched, flexing his muscles and gave Gandalf an encouraging grin, a wild gleam in his eyes that betrayed that he was not entirely of the race of Men. He patted the Wizard on the shoulder with a strong, big hand that had a gentleness to it as if not to hurt the old man. Gandalf appreciated it, because his arm was still feeling a bit odd and sore.
"Do not worry", said Beorn. "I will go searching for the little bunny. I do not like small, innocent beings in danger."
Gandalf smiled gratefully, but the knot in his stomach did not completely vanish.
"Thank you."
Beorn waved away his thanks as if it was nothing.
"Let the others quarrel, but I will try to do something useful."
With that, he was off. He ran with an astonishing speed, more brutal and raw than the Elves and he attracted quite the stares from people passing by. Gandalf hoped that the Skin-changer would succeed were others had not.
Thranduil had been quiet during his talk with Beorn, but Gandalf doubted that anything had gotten unnoticed from the King's sharp eyes and good hearing.
"I did not know that you were so worried about the Halfling."
The Elvenking sounded a bit surprised.
"Oh, but I am", replied Gandalf gravely and stared the slightly taller man in the eye. "He is one of my many worries."
He did not receive an answer to that.
So, that was Gandalf. Any thoughts?
I've decided to update this story on Sundays, so next chapter should be up in a week's time.
Thanks for reading & an early "Merry Christmas" (or whatever holiday you're celebrating) to you all! :)