Cold had seeped into her through the stone she lay curled on, but Percia couldn't bother to move. Though her tears had stopped some time ago the hollow feeling within persisted seemingly draining energy from her body. Her head hurt, as it usually did after such a display of anguish, and her limbs felt heavy. The bite against her cheek from the pebbles and sand littering the floor went ignored as she stared blankly towards the far wall of the parapet.
Few were the times she felt absolutely lost. Usually she found something to push her onwards, whether her friends, family or even something as simple as living long enough to see the next blockbuster movie. She had rolled with the punches, often returning the favor with a few of her own, and soldiered on to the end. Somehow those endings generally turned out pretty good.
And there in lay the truth. Yeah she had told Triton she would be okay even if she didn't make it home, as long as she completed her quest. But she hadn't really believed she wouldn't make it back. So many times she'd beaten the odds. Apparently this was one time too many.
She wondered if anyone would miss her besides Tyson, Triton and Amphitrite. Maybe Thalia, Nico and Jason would, but most likely everyone else would forget she even existed. Hadn't they already, even though she was still in her world?
Part of her, an admittedly small part, knew she needed to get up, get over it and move forward. There was a war brewing on the horizon of this realm and she was now stuck in it. And no, leaving them to face it themselves was not an option now. Besides, maybe she could take a leaf out of Clarisse's book and take her anger out on the Orcs.
Maybe… maybe one of them would get lucky and she'd be sent to the underworld. Surely she'd end up back in her own world's afterlife. Hadn't Nico mentioned his dad complaining about dimension hoppers and paperwork?
Her eyes then flickered to the golden pen sitting in front of her, almost giving off a disapproving feeling as if it heard her thoughts, which wasn't that farfetched. No, she wouldn't give up so easily. She still had Riptide and her health; surely she could make a life for herself here in this world. She even made some friends. At least she hoped they considered her a friend.
Suddenly the end of a staff slammed harshly in front of her eyesight followed by a rather annoyed call of her name.
"Percia Jackson! You answer me right this moment," Gandalf bellowed authoritatively.
Sea green eyes blinked tiredly before forcing their way up to stare at the frustrated figure of the wizard. For a second the man paused, his eyes taking in her state before sweeping to the fragmented crystal shards then towards the corpse of her enemy. A sad understanding flashed through his orbs before he visibly straightened himself. Something told her he believed in 'tough love'.
"Enough wallowing girl! There is a war upon us, and Thranduil is being most stubborn," he declared in a huff. If she remembered right Thranduil was the Elven king. If he was anything like his son she could totally see why Gandalf was in such a snit. "Bard told me that you have spoken to the Valar, and even they have warned of this event. Still that blasted elf is refusing to listen. I need you to come help me get him to see reason as well as prepare the people here for Azog's army!"
He bent over and snatched her arm giving just enough of a tug to pull her up. It didn't take much to get her legs under her and join him. When she did she managed to get a better view of the wizard, including the bruises and dried blood.
"You look horrible," she stated plainly, leaning down to snatch Riptide up.
Gandalf snorted tapping her forehead slightly with his staff. "I could say much the same about you, my girl. Now come along."
They made it back towards the main portion of the city where the remnants of Lake Town had set up camp. As they passed through one archway, Percia finally caught sight of the Elven Army. How long had she been out of it?
They were everywhere, or so it seemed. Their golden armor and red cloaks flashing in every direction. Somehow she didn't think they were here for the Orc threat, if what Gandalf had hinted at was true. So why bring an army? Surely they knew Smaug was dead? Unless…
Were they here to claim a portion of the gold?
And they called Dwarves greedy.
Sighing she focused on Gandalf's rapidly moving form, inwardly snickering as men and elves alike practically leapt to get out of his way. More than a few glanced towards her, especially the elves, though in her current clothes they likely thought her one of the people of Lake Town. One hand slipped up to her neck finding the chain with the black pearl still in place. Another piece of her heritage she would guard fiercely.
"Percia!" The high voice of a child seemed to come out of nowhere before a small body slammed into her side, arms latching on as best they could. Percia managed to keep her balance, but only just. "Where have you been," Bard's youngest, Tilda, demanded to know. "No one's seen you for almost two days!" Well that answered the question on how much time had passed.
"Tilda," Sigrid scolded as she came upon them. "You can't just tackle people like that! Especially not someone of Lady Percia's status!"
"It's fine, Sigrid," Percia assured the other as she patted the younger girl's hair. "No damage done. And just call me Percia. I'm not one to stand on platitudes unless necessary."
"Hey, where's your pearl," Tilda piped up, completely ignoring her sister as she continued to hang off of Percia's form.
Percia hesitated for the barest of moments as the hurt swept through her. Vaguely she could see Gandalf watching from a few feet away, having stopped when Tilda latched onto her. "She's safe now." Feeling proud that she managed those words with nary a waiver she carefully disentangled Tilda. "But I am afraid I am needed to speak to your father and the Elven King. Perhaps we can speak later?"
Sigrid used the chance to wrap her arms firmly around Tilda to keep the girl in place. "Of course Lady Percia. We will see you later."
"Bye Percia," Tilda practically yelled as she waved goodbye to the demigod.
Percia chuckled, returning the gesture before falling in step with Gandalf again. Thankfully the wizard chose not to comment on the scene, though she noted a rather satisfied grin. Choosing to ignore that, she focused on their path, observing more and more activity the closer they came to what looked like the center of Dale. Finally they came upon a lone tent with two Elven sentries outside. Three guesses whom this belonged to, and the first two don't count.
Gandalf completely ignored the guards and waltzed right into the tent with a purpose. With a cautious glance to the two Elves, Percia followed after. Inside there were rugs laid out on the floor, a large throne-like chair, and a table holding a map, food and a carafe of wine. Another section of the tent looked to be blocked off, clearly the sleeping chambers of the King. In all, the tent was very luxurious and comfortable. Pretentious much?
Though she had never met or even seen the king he was not hard to find. In fact he was currently lounging, and there was no other way to describe it, in his throne sipping on a goblet of wine. Seriously who brings golden goblets on a war campaign? His hair was long, as all elves seemed to prefer, and nearly pure white. He wore very lavish robes and a circlet upon his brow, though how any could doubt he was the one in charge Percia would never know. He looked ethereal, more so than some of the other elves she had seen. For a moment he was almost too pretty to look at, before something shifted. For just a second, Percia could see beyond the strange haze that hovered over the left side of Thranduil's face. It must have been like the Mist back home, hiding the truth from others. It was a harsh truth, given the severity of the scarring. No doubt many were put off by such a visage, leading the other to hide it. But for Percia it spoke of strength and endurance, for such scars never lost the vestiges of pain. Regardless, the Elf remained calm and collected, as if he had total control.
Bard, on the other hand, actually looked a bit out of place standing off to the side, goblet held awkwardly in his hands. His scruffy looks and rumpled clothing a vast difference to the other leader.
"What now Mithrandir," the Elf drawled in a bored tone. "Still trying to convince me of a storm that does not exist?" Though his attention remained on the wizard, Percia did not miss the way his icy blue eyes flicked over her form. In them she could see his age. Much like her godly family, this male had seen several centuries, if not millennia, and she doubted many of them had been peaceful.
"Since you refuse to listen to myself and even Lord Bard," the wizard snapped. "I thought perhaps you would listen to the one that actually spoke to the Valar."
Thranduil's eyes found her again, this time far more judging as he swept her form from head to toe. His face showed he was clearly unimpressed. Not that Percia could blame him; she did look quite the mess. It was hard for clothing to remain in good condition when traveling and fighting for the months at a time.
"This girl spoke to the Valar?" Wow, she thought Thorin had a derisive tone, but he could learn a thing or two from this ponce. "Do not make me laugh. Why would they ever bother with such a peasant?"
Gandalf drew back preparing a counter argument when Percia held up her hand to stop him. Moving forward she kept her eyes locked on the Elf, silently noting his barely visible surprise at her calm stare. She doubted many could hold his gaze. Still she said nothing, just looked down on him in the imperious fashion she had learned from her godly relatives. Slowly she touched her pearl necklace willing it to bring forth her royal gear. A warm pulse of heat answered her.
The flash of light blinded her for just a second, but it did not keep her from seeing the shocked visage the Elven king betrayed, if only for a second before hiding it behind his calculating mask once more.
She refused to look down at herself, though she could see the wonder in Bard and Gandalf's eyes. Somehow she knew it was not her royal armor that appeared, especially given the feeling of a tiara of some sort in her hair. She could also feel the smooth fabric of what she guessed was silk. She doubted she even came close to looking like Lady Amphitrite or any of her sisters, but she was a Princess of the seas and she would represent.
Holding her head high and using her full height she raised a single brow as she 'deigned' to introduce herself to the arrogant king.
"I am Percia Jackson, daughter of Poseidon, God of the Oceans of Earth, Sister of Triton, King of Atlantis, Princess of the Sea and Hero of Olympus. More recently I have been honored with Lord Ulmo's blessing and have been requested to bring forth a message from the Valar," she stated imperiously. See, she could totally rock the 'all-important-royal' attitude! "While normally they cannot involve themselves in the events of this world, a rare opportunity has allowed them the chance to step in, though only in the most basic of ways. As such they informed me to pass on the warning of the impending battle in the immediate future. I spoke of this with Lord Bard, and your son, Prince Legolas." Percia paused on that to let it sink in. "He, of course, needed further proof and has made his way north, to follow after Bolg, spawn of Azog. Both of whom have attacked the company multiple times. One such time was right outside your gates, where they were making their way to invade your kingdom. Our… departure from your 'hospitality' changed their plans. However, now that the dragon is dead, they will focus their forces in full on the mountain, and likely any realm in the near vicinity."
Shifting slightly she waved her free hand in the air lazily. "Now I am not sure exactly why the Elves have come prepared for war, as you clearly had no idea of this coming attack. I can easily guess, as greed is not exclusive to any race." She ignored the narrowing of his eyes at her intended slight. That's right blondie, you're getting called out on your behavior. "What brought you here is not important. Your choice is." Again she paused to let her words hang heavily in the air. Chiron would be proud. "You can continue this little show of yours to get whatever it is you wish from the Dwarves, and ignore the warning, leaving your people open to attack unprepared. I'm sure your entire army would look marvelous standing outside the gates of Erebor right inside the perfect kill zone. That's what people of my world call an open spaced battled field surrounded by higher ground. Inevitably, those within the valley tend to die in greater numbers." She kept her voice calm and factual with no actual mockery, though it was hard. "You could take your army back home to your kingdom and wait for the Orcs to over run us all and take the mountain. No offense Bard," she apologized to the startled looking man. "But Gandalf would not be this adamant if Azog did not have the numbers to be a true threat. And neither your men nor the Dwarves can stand up to that type of threat. Not even with my powers helping you." Focusing back on Thranduil she caught a slightly thoughtful gleam in his eye. "As I said, you could hide in your kingdom, but if you do I suggest you fortify it very well. After all, once the men and dwarves are gone, the next logical step for the Orcs would be to clear out the forest of enemies. A task made easier by the darkness already infecting your realm. It would hinder any allies you may have from coming to your aid." His hands clenched in rage, but there was nothing he could say to refute her words. It was rather hard to fight truth. "I am sure your people would fight hard, and possibly last for many years, but in the end they would fail. In my world the country I lived in had a saying. 'Together we stand, divided we fall'. And thus leads to your final choice. Put aside your anger and hatred of the dwarves and men. The past is the past. Most of those you deal with today were not even born when the grudges were first formed. But the Orcs, from what I understand, have always been your enemy. They threaten everything good in your world. If your men are to shed blood in battle, let them do so fighting the true enemy."
Thranduil seemed to mull over her words, barely moving but for the slight tick under his right eye. "Pretty words, my lady," he stated lowly. "But now I shall pose the same question I gave Gandalf. If an army of Orcs approaches, where are they?"
Percia blinked. "A valid question. Now I pose one to you. What methods of travel do Orcs possess or have possessed? I do not know much about Orcs, except they are vile, cruel and predisposed to bad hygiene."
Bard let out a cough to cover up a laugh at her statement, and she could see Gandalf's lip curl minutely before a frown formed on his face.
"That is indeed a good question," the wizard remarked. "Normally they travel over land by Warg or on foot. In the past they have used war bats and…" His eyes grew wide as he trailed off looking directly at Thranduil who seemed to also catch on. Both looked significantly more worried than before.
"And…" Percia prompted. "The rest of the class would like to know."
"Were-worms," Thranduil hissed out. "They used them to tunnel long passages through mountain ranges to move their numbers unhindered."
"With the mountain and hills surrounding us, would this not be a perfect use of such beasts," Bard asked, a severe frown taking over at the implications.
Thranduil stood swiftly in one fluid motion. Seriously were any Elves not graceful? His attention was on the map, the others moving closer with him.
"If they come from Dol Guldur as you say Mithrandir, the most logical location for them to break through the terrain would be here." He pointed to a section just to the south-east of the city of Dale.
"If we have both our armies before Erebor we would be cut off from Dale," Bard pointed out frantically.
"Probably what Azog is going for. Best way to defeat an enemy is divide and conquer," Percia mused pragmatically. Eying the map more carefully she thought over various strategies. "If the enemy weren't Orcs, I'd use Annabeth's tactics. But since they are… We'd better follow the WWCD tactic set."
"WWCD," Bard asked warily.
"What would Clarisse do," Percia announced with a nostalgic grin. "She's my cousin and daughter of Aries, god of war in my world. She's brutal on the battlefield, and if you're in a fight you definitely want her on your side. I mention her because if this was her attacking us, she'd do it from multiple fronts." On the map she pointed to where Thranduil had indicated. "First she'd have one force come out and engage the armies, if they were wholly positioned in the valley. Considering they're expecting to surprise us, it would be a good assumption. Granted they may not be expecting the Elven army to be here."
"Very true. Afterall, it is only the Dwarves in the mountain, a small company at most and the handful of survivors from Lake town," Gandalf murmured in agreement. "But we cannot count on them not knowing."
"Yeah," Percia murmured. "Still, Azog's son went North… What's up there anyway?"
Gandalf stilled as did Thranduil, the elf's eyes tight with anger.
"Gundabad," the wizards stated severely. "There the ruins of Angmar rest, almost completely over run by Orcs."
"Which is most likely a second army, lead by his son," Percia pushed on, deciding that fishing for information on this northern region would not be a good idea at the moment. "If it were Clarisse, she'd let the first army tire the fighters out, then let the second army sweep in to finish the job." It was not a pleasant thought, but one that needed consideration. "Then again, Clarisse would also be in the thick of the fight. Azog doesn't strike me much as a 'lead-by-example' general."
"He is not," Gandalf agreed. "True he enjoys taking down his enemies, but he usually does so when he has the advantage. In a battle such as this he will be directing from afar."
"And if we take the leaders out," Bard queried. "Would that encumber their armies?"
"Indeed it would," Thranduil advised keen gaze studying the map. "Orcs are prone to in-fighting and only truly follow those they feel are strong, or have cowed them. If Azog and Bolg were defeated, their armies would most likely disperse back to the filth they came from."
"Could we figure out where he would set up and take him out early on?"
Thranduil shook his head. "The landscape is too diverse, with too many possible vantage points for him to use. Our best hope is to split our forces, positioning the archers as best as possible in the high ground surrounding the valley, as well as leave fighters here in Dale."
"I can help with most of the protection of Dale," Percia offered. "I can control water and use it as a weapon. With the river right next to the city I'll have a perfect supply. I also think, and please do not get tetchy with me for suggesting this." She turned to Bard with a very serious expression. " We need to arm every capable person in Dale, be they man, woman or child. Those two young, old or frail to fight will need to be placed in a stronghold. If we're going to get through this we'll need every body we can get."
Bard's first reaction was to glare fiercely at her, but she could see he was turning her words over in his mind. When his shoulders slumped and tired eyes met her she knew he would agree.
"I don't like it, but as you say, we need every person," he sighed in resignation. "If Dale is to be a likely target I'd rather give them a fighting chance."
"What about the Dwarves," she asked turning back to Gandalf. "I told Fili to warn Thorin. Should we find out what they can do to help? Or if they can call in any allies… What?" They were all looking a bit strange. Thranduil had a very 'I-told-you-so' look, Gandalf sported sorrow and frustration, while Bard just looked miffed. Sadly his look was rather close to his usual chagrined mask.
"Oakenshield has fallen to the Gold Sickness," Thranduil informed her in an almost pleased fashion. "He now holes himself and his company within the fortress of Erebor much like a thief."
"Gold sickness?" She turned to Gandalf for an explanation.
The old wizard sighed. "It is an affliction that has affected Thorin's line for some time, most notably with his Grandfather Thrór. Those afflicted become blind to all but the need for gold, going so far as to neglect themselves and others in their quest to horde it."
"Okay… Is there anything we can do? Like… bash him over the head," she suggested hopefully. "You know, cognitive recalibration? Their skulls are pretty hard, but it might work."
This time it was Thranduil who let out a laugh, a genuine one at that. When he smiled for real he cut a very handsome figure. His eyes even sparkled!
"An admirable suggestion, but it is unlikely any of us could get close enough to perform such a maneuver," the king informed her wryly. "And it is even more unlikely any of his kin would help, as he is their king."
"Yeah," she muttered chewing her lip thoughtfully. "But would he call reinforcements from any dwarves nearby? And could we possibly get a message to them to see if they would be more willing to take this coming threat seriously?"
"The closest Dwarven settlement is in the Iron Hills," Gandalf explained, pointing it out on the map. "It is ruled by Thorin's cousin, Dain. Of the two I have always found Thorin the more reasonable."
Percia stared at him for a long minute as she absorbed those words. "Well shit."
"Surely the threat of Orcs against the mountain would at least give him pause to consider our words," Bard argued. "If Thorin sent for them to act as protection, would this not be the same thing?"
"If Dain even believed we were not trying to trick him," Thranduil countered. "It is unlikely they would ally themselves with Elves and Men."
"But it is a fight they cannot win on their own," Bard maintained.
"That won't stop them," a new voice joined them, one that was very familiar to Percia and Gandalf. They all turned to see a hobbit at the entrance to the tent, the two Elven guards trying to keep him back. "You think the Dwarves will surrender, they won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."
"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf greeted the other with joy, pleased to see their friend had survived the quest.
The hobbit returned the smile coming inside once Thranduil motioned his guards to allow him in. Percia took a moment to hug the smaller male, glad to see one of the company.
"If I am not mistaken," Thranduil drawled, eyes taking in the new addition with no little irritation. "This is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards."
Bilbo shuffled uncomfortably as he glanced up at the king, looking very much like a child caught in the act of misbehaving. "Er… yes… Sorry about that."
Percia bit back a snort, sharing a sly look with Bard, who also found amusement in the scene.
"Anyway," Bilbo cleared his throat. "I came to give you this." He quickly came to the center of the room and placed a covered object on the table. When he pulled back the cloth they could all see a brightly glowing stone, swirling with colors. It reminded Percia of a fire Opal, with a bit more glow.
"The heart of the mountain," Thranduil gasped, eyes wider than Percia had ever seen. "The King's Jewel."
Okay, so the pretty rock was clearly important. Really people put way too much stock in material objects. Actually she vaguely remembered Kili mentioning it one night, and how all the Dwarven kingdoms considered it the mark of the king. But… wasn't it found well into Thror's reign? And hadn't their family ruled for several generations before that? Why give a stone that much significance?
"And worth a king's ransom," Bard added. "How is this yours to give?"
"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure," Bilbo declared softly.
Wow, he was going to give up his whole share to others? She'd heard the speculation of what might be in the mountain, so this was a huge gift on Bilbo's part. Then again, what was going on in there that made the Hobbit relinquish his share, to people Thorin no doubt thought of as the enemy? Did Fili not give them her warning?
"Why would you do this," Bard asked, still in awe of the gesture. "You owe us no loyalty."
Bilbo gave the man a look as close to a sneer as Percia had ever seen him give. "I'm not doing it for you," he clarified. "I know dwarves can be… obstinate, and pigheaded, and difficult and suspicious and secretive… with the worst manners you could possibly imagine." Very true. Percia couldn't disagree with any of that. "But they are also brave and kind… and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can." Percia was pretty sure there was one dwarf that he was more than 'fond' of. "Thorin values this stone above all else."
Ouch, saying that had to hurt. Just what had Thorin been doing in that mountain? Seriously, if he did anything to hurt Bilbo, then Orcs or not, Percia would find a way to bash his skull in.
"In exchange for it's return, I believe he will give you what you are owed," he stated confidently. "There will be no need for war."
Looks passed all around at those words. Finally Percia grabbed her friend's hand making sure she had his full attention.
"Bilbo, it is not war from us that Thorin should be worried about. Did Fili not give any of you my warning?"
Bilbo frowned in confusion. "I do not know. Thorin's had everyone so busy that I am not sure anyone has had any real time to talk…"
"Azog is coming," she stated quickly, better to get the information out quick. "With him an army of Orcs, and we suspect that Bolg will be bringing a force from the north. War is coming."