Hey! I found my direction again! Woohooooo!
Hope you enjoy this chapter!
It gleamed. Every edge, every corner, every smooth crystal surface glowed in the dark air of Erebor. Thorin turned the large gem over and over again in his rough, worn hands. In comparison, the Arkenstone seemed beyond perfect. Untouchable. Even with the tiny, hair thin scratch that ran along the surface.
Thorin had put it there himself. A reminder. A way back to reality. With that tiny fracture, he could loose himself in the gems endless wonder for hours. Then, as soon as he was needed, he could find the tiny scratch and pull himself out again.
He didn't enjoy doing so, but he could.
The gem rotated slowly in his hands. It was smooth, and cool to the touch.
Why couldn't Emi have such a scratch? So he could enjoy her fully, then, when he needed to, forget about her. Why did the hobbit linger on his mind? Always.
It wasn't that she was perfect. Far from perfect. But the tiny creature had such a web of scratches running this way and that in such an irresistible pattern, that Thorin could not break away from it.
And it frustrated him to no end.
"Emi, Emi, Emi." Thorin mumbled to himself, turning the huge gem over and over again in his hands. "Why can't you be better? Can you not fix yourself and be away from this awful place?"
"Thorin." The king's head shot up as Dwalin entered, Emi and Ori behind him.
"What is it?" He asked bitterly.
Dwalin stepped to the side allowing Emi and Ori to come forward. Thorin eyed the scribe suspiciously, momentarily ignoring the hobbit's defiant look. Ori was beyond nervous as he looked to Emi for instruction. Emi nodded to him.
The scribe lifted a piece of paper, gulped loudly, and began to read.
"Since I am not able to say this myself…" Ori began in a quivering voice. "I have written it down and asked O-Ori to say it for me." Thorin narrowed his eyes at Emi who glared back, resolve burning in her eyes. And Ori began to read.
"I will start with what is forth right at my mind. I am… disappointed in you." Ori stammered, nervously glancing up at the king every other word. "I… I…"
"Continue." Thorin said coolly, not taking his eyes off Emi. "I will not hold you accountable. Please, read."
Ori nodded, gulped, and began again. "I thought you were better than this Thorin. The people of Laketown have lost everything. You have been given the chance, the honor, to help them in their time of need. You promised them a share of the treasure. What changed your mind? Or was this your plan all along? To deceive them, to lie to them. You once said to me that you would never lie. And that was why you were the king, and I was the burglar. But it seems to me, Thorin, that you are something of a burglar yourself. Perhaps, you should not be so quick to judge. You came to Laketown and stole their goodwill and their town like a thief in the night. You stole Smaug's domain right from under his nose. You-"
"THIS IS MY KINGDOM." Thorin boomed, rising from his throne. The room fell into silence as the words echoed into nothing. Grinding his jaw, Thorin fell back onto his thrown, glowering. "Continue."
Stammering even worse now, Ori started once more. "You are no less a burglar than I am. Do not call yourself a King, than perform such acts of thievery and blame it on justice. You have chosen this war. There are lives you could have spared."
"Is it finished yet?" Thorin demanded angrily.
Ori scanned down the page. "…A bit… Should I stop?"
"No." Thorin grunted after consideration.
Ori nodded and continued. "You choose greed over generosity. Your riches over your people. Lies over trust. Isolation. So now I ask you this, Thorin Oakenshield. Why do you choose war?" And Ori looked up at the king expectantly. And the king looked at the hobbit in careful contemplation. And the hobbit stood waiting. Waiting for the answer.
A good few minutes came and went when Thorin finally spoke. His voice was slow, and careful. "Every coin that lies in this mountain… every gleaming surface of riches… it is more than and endless pile of wealth. Each and every single coin was forged and crafted with the sweat of my people. The souls of those lost in the firestorm live on in each and every coin. That is why I cannot bring myself to part with it. Any of it." Thorin shook his head, eyes drifting across the stone floor in thought. "Our ancestors toiled endlessly, knowing that their work would be prized and kept safe in our halls. I cannot betray them." His eyes drifted back into Emi's, which searched deep into him before darting away.
The hobbit brought out a quill, inkwell, and parchment and began scribbling quickly. The hall filled with the sound of scratching on the paper and the tapping of a quill upon the edge of the glass jar. Once finished, she quickly handed the paper to Ori and straightened again and the scribe began to read.
"Then it seems to me, you need keep but one single coin, in memory of the souls lost. I would hate to make something practical only to know it lay buried under other unused riches. If you carve a pipe, you do not let it sit, forgotten, in the hall chest. You would bring it out every sunny afternoon and blow smoke rings with it into the sunset. You would share it with your guests if they forgot to bring their own. You would let it be used, for nothing does any good stuffed away from the world." The scribe looked up again, signaling the end of that which was written.
Thorin's smile was slight, barely untraceable in the poor light. But his eyes danced merrily as he gazed upon Emi. "Hobbits." He shook his head. "How can they always see everything so simply?"
Emi raised a quizzical eyebrow as if to say Is that a compliment or an insult? And Thorin laughed aloud, rising from his throne and walking to stand before Emi.
"Do you really believe riches and wealth in such measure can be compared to a simple pipe?" He asked. Emi nodded in absolute certainty. Thorin laughed again. "But a pipe always comes back when you share it." Emi brought out her quill and parchment again, jotted something down quickly and handed it to him.
Yes, but next time they come as guests, they always bring me jam or a small pouch of old toby. Kindness is not so easily forgotten as one might think, Thorin. The dwarf lord read the parchment and handed it back.
"Then it isn't kindness at all, but an investment." He pointed out. Emi shrugged and smiled.
The thumping of boots over stone disrupted the quiet as an armored guard and a tall flaming haired dwarf approached, a sour look upon their faces. Thorin's smile dropped away completely.
"What is it Dain?" the king asked.
"Envoys fro' both the men and those filthy elves ar' demandin' to parley." Dain Ironfoot growled. "And they got themselves a wizard with a tall hat all pointy like." The dwarf motioned with his hands.
Gandalf! Emi grinned.
Thorin scowled, but nodded anyway. "We will hear them out. Dwalin, gather the company." It was tense through the air as the company gathered atop the wall, Dain with them.
"A little more than envoys." Gloin grumbled surveying the host of elves and men upon their doorstep. At the head were Bard and Thranduil, and before them all, was Gandalf, looking rather worse for wear to be frank.
"Why have you come?" Thorin bellowed to those below. "Do you think me so weak that I change my mind with the setting of the sun?" Emi sent him a confused look.
"We've come to give you another chance." Bard replied before Gandalf motioned him to quiet himself.
"Thorin, you are making a mistake." The wizard huffed. "You have never had a greater need for allies than on this day."
"Indeed?" Thorin replied, obviously not impressed.
"All of you must set aside your quarrels." Gandalf said speaking not only to the dwarves but to the men and elves as well. "An army of orcs is marching from Gundabad, their numbers reaching beyond count." The tension was drawn tighter than a bowstring.
"For where do they march?" Bard asked.
"Erebor." Gandalf replied. "But do not think they will stop there." His eye turned on Thranduil. "If this mountain is lost, the entire land this side of the mountain will quickly crumble to their power."
"And what would you have us do?" The elf king asked, his words slow and meticulous. "Flee?"
"Join together your forces!" Gandalf urged. "Many will fall, but more will in the end if you do not take your stand now."
"You speak reason." Bard agreed. "But if either army refuses, I would rather prolong an inevitable death than rush head long into it."
"It is our home." Thorin spoke for the dwarves, sharing a glance of agreement from Dain. "We will protect it to our last breath."
All eyes turned to Thranduil and the elves. The elven king took in all the looks with a frown. "Too much elvish blood has been spilt. My people have already suffered enough."
"WE MUST FIGHT!" heads turned as two elves burst to the front. One with fiery red hair and the other with hair of silvery gold.
"Tauriel!" Kili exclaimed from the wall.
The she elf stood defiantly before her king and kin. "We cannot hide any longer! This is our world as well as theirs and we cannot forsake them to a fate that will be our own undoing!" Thranduil barked an order in elvish, only to have the third elf counter immediately. Their eyes shot daggers at on another, until at last, Thranduil turned to Gandalf.
"We will fight." There was a moment of adulation, but it came briefly and left like the wind. For a realization had come upon all.
The orcs were coming.
And a red dawn would be sure to follow.
Red dawn... I think most people will understand that reference. Alright, so I may be changing up the order of how a few things are resolved, but don't worry, cause I'm keeping a list.
Review if you have the time, it's always super encouraging!