Chapter 14, everyone!

I am terribly sorry for the delay (I can't believe it's been a month!), but I have been really busy with school. But now I'm back and hopefully, this chapter will be worth the wait!

As usual: A big "thank you" to all readers, followers, favourites and reviewers! Your support means a lot to me :)

I do not own any characters or places; J.R.R. Tolkien or Peter Jackson and Co do.

Enjoy!

Chapter 14: Day 3 – Thranduil

Thranduil carefully arranged his features into a detached expression as he entered Thorin Oakenshield's tent.

Behind him, he could feel the eyes of the Dwarves bore into his back. Many of them did not like him, some despised him and he was quite certain that there were few who trusted him. It was sad and not very promising that their new alliance would start off in such a poorly way.

The tent smelled of sickness, a sour and stale smell. Thranduil's nose itched, but he did not scrunch his nose, no matter how much he would have wanted. It was not a very kingly thing to do. Everything in the tent appeared to be much smaller than Thranduil, broken and worn, much like the Dwarf occupying it. He looked up as Thranduil came inside and the Elf noticed how his eyes were glassy with some kind of fever.

"You came", was his hoarse exclamation. "I was not entirely sure that you would."

"You wished to speak with me", said Thranduil and declined the offer of a chair. He stood at the end of Thorin's bed, his tall figure casting long shadows around him. "I am not so petty that I would refuse to hear what you have to say, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór."

"I did not know if you keep a grudge as long as many of my kin", admitted Thorin.

'Oh, if you only knew', Thranduil thought wryly, but not without some pangs of sadness. Instead he said: "Your life is too short for us to waste the last of it being in disagreement."

"Wise words", said Thorin and the old Elf could not say if he was serious or jesting. The latter seemed very unlikely, but the former more unlikely still.

Thranduil kept his face impassive. His eyes were fixed on the Dwarf King and at the same time aware of everything else in the tent. He tried to read the wounded Dwarf's expression, every little shift, but he saw not what he had looked for. It was a relief, but the obvious pain in Thorin's face aroused Thranduil's pity. Yet he did not speak. The Dwarves had warned him not to upset their leader and Thranduil was of the belief that he would manage to anger Thorin, because he did not understand him. Since Thranduil had been the one to be summoned he was not going to speak first and Thorin soon realized that.

"I wanted to ask how the negotiations are going", he said eventually and broke the brief but heavy silence.

One of Thranduil's thick eyebrows rose on its own accord. Millions of thoughts went through his head, different angles of everything Thorin meant with that question and what answer he expected to hear. Thranduil was not entirely sure what to say.

"I thought you already knew that", he drawled in an attempt to stall for some time to think over his reply. "I was under the impression that Daín and your Company kept you updated with every detail of what was said and decided during the meetings."

"It is true what you say", admitted Thorin calmly and there was something with his feverish eyes that unnerved the Elvenking a bit. "My cousin has been very meticulous with his reports, but all I hear is talking and no decisions."

Thranduil felt himself go rigid and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Thorin's tone was streaked with accusations. It was not the first time Thranduil wondered if the negotiations would go differently should the King under the Mountain attend the meetings.

"There is much to be decided, things that cannot be decided on a whim."

Thorin snorted and Thranduil pursed his lips.

"You are right, of course", Thorin said and Thranduil was yet again feeling as if he did not know if he was being ridiculed. "But I cannot help but wonder what it is you are waiting for. Bard the Dragonslayer has demanded payment for what was destroyed in Lake-town and justly so. Though what you desire is to me a riddle."

He peered up at Thranduil, but the blond Elf remained stoic. The Elvenking felt no powerful pull towards the riches in the Mountain, although he would not decline a glittering jewel should he be offered one. But he was not foolish enough to believe that a handful of gems and gold could solve all problems, righting all wrongs and he knew for certain that gold in the long run would bring nothing but misery. Thus his answer was simple to say, but more difficult to achieve.

"Peace", he answered and neither his voice nor expression gave room for any argument. "Enough blood has been shed and enough lives have been lost. I want peace between Elves, Men and Dwarves. I wish to rekindle the peace we had when Thrór ruled, before the greed of his people lured the dragon here. It would bring me joy and ease my worries if the people of the Northern East could tie bonds of friendship in these troubling times."

His words seemed to shake the wounded Dwarf. Pale blue eyes brimmed with tears and pain etched onto his features, though it was not a pain caused by his wounds. Thranduil tried to read what was on his mind, but even though his bearded face was open to express his feelings, Thranduil felt as if he was looking at stone that merely shifted shape and shade depending on which angle you were standing when you looked at it.

"If you had not taken us prisoners and locked us up in your dungeon, things might have been different", Thorin said tiredly, but his eyes seemed clearer than before while his voice betrayed no ill feelings, just thoughtfulness.

Thranduil made a low sound in the back of his throat in protest.

"If you had told me of your Quest and where your journey would end, I can assure you that things would have gone very differently."

It still stung that the Dwarves had wandered into the middle of their feasting and had refused to tell them of what they were doing there. That they had managed to escape not soon after was another blow to his pride and he had still not figured out how they could have done it. He knew that it would most likely bother him for years to come, since keeping the Dwarves locked up would have prevented a lot of things from happening. It seemed as if Thorin knew what he was thinking, for his cracked lips formed a rueful grin.

"You hate me", he stated in a voice Thranduil could not place.

It was words he believed to be true, but Thranduil disagreed.

"I do not hate you", said the Elvenking truthfully and his features softened. "I may not agree with things you and your kin have done or dislike some of your qualities, but I do not hate you." His gaze became knowing. "And I believe you feel the same about me."

Thorin was about to say something, but his face contorted in pain and his body shook in feverish attacks. Terrible sounds tore their way up his throat and Thranduil was amazed that the crowd of Dwarves outside did not hear. Thorin cleared his throat – it sounded as if he would throw up all his insides – and he looked ashamed of showing such a weakness in front of Thranduil. He felt a twinge of pity.

"Are you sure that I should not send for one of my healers to tend to you?" he offered hesitantly.

Thorin smiled, though it lacked any joy.

"No", he said. "It will not be needed. I know I am dying. It is too late for me to be saved and they should not waste their strength on me."

Thranduil knew the Dwarf was dying as well and had known for some time. In fact, he was surprised that Thorin had managed to stay alive for as long as he had. Thranduil told him so. That made the King under the Mountain smirk.

"I'm made of stone", he explained. "I do not easily break." He then turned serious, sighing and muttered, as if speaking to himself: "Besides, I cannot enter the Halls of my Fathers. Not yet. There is still one I have to speak with or else I shall never find peace."

Thranduil's curiosity sparked against his will. He did not want to deprive the dying Dwarf of precious time with his kin and he had matters to discuss with Lord Daín and King Bard, tired of them almost going around in circles, but he could not stop himself from asking:

"Who is this person you so long to speak with?"

"He is a very dear friend of mine", said Thorin and smiled softly, but it suddenly turned sad. "Or at least I hope we will part in friendship as I leave this world."

Thranduil allowed himself a hint of a smile as he looked down at the Dwarf.

"There is still hope. I believe Mithrandir has sent out a search party for the Halfling. He will be found, of that I have no doubt."

Thorin did not reply, but sucked in a breath that sounded ominous and painful, like he was running out of air. Thranduil moved so that he stood next to the bed instead. He reached out a hand, reflexively, for he was no healer but he knew how to ease the pain. Thorin flinched and Thranduil stayed his hand, not sure what had come over him at that moment. He drew back and his face turned blank.

"There is nothing that can be done", said Thorin tightly and in his face was signs of age and fragility. "The wounds are too deep and too many. Leave it be."

Thranduil obeyed, though he was tempted to lift the covers to see the wounds Thorin had gotten, but he believed them not to be a pretty sight. He could smell the sour scent and the acrid smell of flesh being infected. The iron smell of blood poisoned the air. Under all his covers, dripping with sweat and with his greasy, black locks stained with silver, the famed leader of the Longbeard clan did not cut a very impressive figure.

"So this is how the King under the Mountain shall end", Thranduil mused out loud and he almost felt disappointed.

Said King clenched his jaw, sweat dripping from his face. It was a last attempt not to look weak and broken.

"Yes", he said darkly. "And perhaps it is how it was always meant to be. Peace I may never get, but the knowledge of that Erebor is reclaimed will send me to death with a smile on my face, no matter how much grief it has cost me."

"You are not alone in your suffering", said Thranduil stiffly, thinking of the corpses of his people and Esgaroth being barely nothing more than ash.

His words had the desired effect. A shadow appeared on Thorin's face and his dark brows drew closely together in a dark and pained expression. Sorrow could be read there as could the hardship and misfortune of Durin's line.

"I know, Elvenking."

Nothing more was said after that and Thranduil knew he was not wanted there anymore. With a twitch of his head as a sign of respect, he turned around and left Thrain's son to his misery. Thranduil let himself breathe before pushing open the flaps of the tent. He schooled his features into an expression of total disinterest as he was met with eleven pair of eyes staring at him, all with various levels of worry mixed with that tough, grim shine Thranduil thought he could see in every Dwarf's eyes he had ever met. Many of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield disbelief over that the Elvenking could still be so cold and unbothered even though he had just witnessed their beloved leader dying. They could not see how affected he truly was and how his immortal heart ached for those whose blood had been spilt. It made him realize that no one was immortal, for many of the dead were soldiers from his own Realm. An ill-placed blade could end them all. Thranduil rested his icy eyes upon Daín.

"I am sorry for your loss, though Thorin Oakenshield is still breathing. But I hope that you will not be so blinded by grief and gold that you will forget what is important still."

He swept his gaze over all Dwarves as he spoke. Some shuffled in discomfort under his stare, but most of them looked grim and Thranduil did not doubt that they knew what he was referring to. He gracefully bowed his head to them and strode away, the trail of his red robe trailing behind. No one asked him to stay and it was still so much that needed to be done. Thranduil looked up at the Mountain that rose above them all, casting a long shadow over the land, yet gave the impression of being everlasting. He smiled softly and wondered if he would live long enough to see it fall. For everything fell eventually, even stone. As he regarded the camp and its activity, the different kind of people helping each other, Thranduil knew it was his duty to make sure that they all kept this helping hand outstretched amongst the three races for years to come. He feared it might be needed in the future.

So that was Thranduil's last chapter. Any thoughts or questions?

The next chapter will be the last of this story, but I cannot say when it will be published. Hopefully within a month, but I won't make any promises.

Thanks for reading :)