I awake with a start, roll over onto my back and immediately roll back again, hissing as Gimli's recent lesson is recalled to my mind and my backside!
I am sore and sorry, but also more at peace than I have been for some time. I have paid the price for my recent choices. Do I regret them? Well obviously I would have preferred not to have been walloped as I was, but overall then no I do not regret my decision to go after the axe.
In fact I would do it again, although I might be more careful in covering my tracks and ensuring that my overanxious guardian did not find out about my exploits in quite such a terrifying fashion. Believe me I know just how frightened he was , my rear can attest to that, and I would not wish to put him in such a state again, at least not in the near future.
I sit up cautiously and for the first time notice the film of dust that appears to coat every surface in the room. If I were at home and my chambers looked like this I know very well how Chi would react and Lady Vonild is just as house proud. I have upset her enough already I can hardly afford to leave my quarters in this state.
Deciding that first I need to bathe and change my raiment I do so, and the hot water eases the ache in my rear a little much to my relief. I am just finishing off cleaning the room when Gimli returns.
He helps me strip and change the bed and then announces that he wants me to return to the main room for his 'Mam' wishes to see me.
I try to persuade him that it would be better for me to remain here but he is not to be swayed and indeed proves to be so intractable that I am actually reduced to attempting to prevent him forcing me to move.
It is a pointless effort for he only needs to apply his hand to my still sore posterior to get me moving in the direction he wishes.
I am in dread of the reception I will receive; I fear that Gimli's family will think me poor indeed seeing that I am young enough to be disciplined in the manner Gimli has chosen. My face flames as I let out a yelp, knowing that sounds carry in the mountain and that Gloin, Vonild, Dorbryn and even Greirr will be all too well aware of what I have suffered at their son's hand.
Yet willing or not I am forcibly propelled into the main sitting room and to my complete surprise am welcomed, not only welcomed but cosseted. Lady Vonild urges me to sit beside her in a very comfortable chair. Lord Gloin nods and welcomes me back. Lady Dorbryn, having set a meal before me and urged me to eat, sits beside me to ensure I do so.
The meal is welcome as is their apparent lack of censure or amusement at my predicament and Lady Vonild has even found time to make molasses taffy a treat I am inordinately fond of. As I sit enjoying this special treat, Greirr comes to sit with me telling me he wishes to sketch me holding the axe so he might add this special page to his book.
I look up from all this petting and spoiling to see Gimli watching me, amusement in his face and a knowing smile in his eyes. It is plain he knew what sort of reception I would receive from his family even if I did not.
Talk turns to our meeting on the morrow with the king and Lady Vonild has a sharp exchange with her son on his desire for us to leave straight afterwards. She it seems is intent on my remaining for the feast, which she assures us, will be called for when the Great Red Axe is presented to the king. I take a peek at Gimli as Vonild speaks and know he is less than enamored of this idea. He no doubt believes I should not be feted and praised after putting myself so recklessly at risk, but his Mam will not be gainsaid and I would wager my best bow that hers is the view that will prevail.
In the meantime once Dorbryn has carted off a protesting Greirr I abandon my seat and sit instead at the feet of Lady Vonild, who encourages me to rest my head in her lap while she runs a hand over my hair, humming softly.
I awaken to find that someone must have carried me to bed for I am tucked up under a very comfortable quilt and I know that it must be well after dawn. I roll over onto my back and this time the twinge I feel is little more than a discomforting reminder of the day before. Sitting up I see that my formal clothes have also been taken out, hung up and made ready for my meeting with the king under the mountain.
Slipping out from under the quilt I wash and dress swiftly, donning the silk leggings and shirt the velvet tunic, doeskin boots and mithril belt that are deemed necessary for such an engagement. To my disgust my mithril circlet is also placed out ready for me to wear. I consider hiding it but realize that whoever unpacked my travelling trunk must already have seen it. Instead I leave it where it is alongside the long open fronted over robe in deep green velvet and open the door into the main rooms.
Lord Gloin, Gimli, Lady Dorbryn and Greirr are already there, all dressed in their finest outfits. Gimli is wearing the velvet cloak he had made for Estel's coronation so I know how seriously he is taking the upcoming meeting.
Having somewhat shyly returned their greetings I go over to the table where the axe I retrieved yesterday now sits. Someone, probably Lord Gloin has cleaned and polished it until it shines, the edge has been honed to perfection, it is magnificent, truly a beautiful piece of weaponry.
Gimli scowls at me when I reach out to touch it, not to stay my hand but I suspect at the smile of satisfaction that has appeared on my face. I do not think he will ever be reconciled to its retrieval given the danger he believes I was placed in.
Dorbryn tells me I look 'very fine' and I blush at the compliment for I find it quite discomfiting. Gimli's scowl is replaced with a smile as he sees this and he laughs.
"Aye, he's pretty enough that's for sure." He teases.
"Gimli!"
"It's true enough lad," he chortles, ignoring my ferocious glare at being termed 'pretty' "There will be more than one dwarven maiden and matron who will lose their heart to you this day I'll wager."
"Do not embarrass the child" Vonild scolds her son as she enters "He does his father and his people proud. I shall be pleased to walk beside him to the King's Hall aye and to acknowledge him as a member of my family as well."
We all turn to welcome the head of the household and it takes me all my time not to stand with my mouth agape for I know the honor that has been accorded to me by Vonild's words. "You do me great honor my lady" I tell her, taking her hand and kissing it punctiliously.
She pulls my head down and kisses my brow, "No son of Thranduil, it is you that does my family honor, my son was fortunate indeed to have you by his side on his journey and I am happy to acknowledge it, albeit belatedly." She wipes her eyes as she takes in the magnificence of her family then squares her shoulders. "Well let us be on our way, it will not do to be tardy."
I offer her my hand and she takes it, Lord Gloin carries the axe, which is now covered in a dark red woolen shroud while Dorbryn, Gimli and Greirr fall in behind us.
We are almost at the outer door when Dorbryn calls out, "Your robes Legolas." And hurries off to collect them. I do not dare catch Gimli's eyes as I reluctantly shrug into the over robe and position the circlet on my head for I know he will be grinning at my having been caught out again.
Sometimes I hate that dwarf!
Still I am happy to have him with me when we reach the receiving chamber of King Thorin. I have grown accustomed to magnificent meeting halls, my own father's hall being spectacular enough, but the throne room under the mountain is stunning. Mighty columns rise almost as far as even my eyes can see into the vaulted beams above our heads. The carvings on them are beautifully drawn. The symbols and runes speak of an ancient folk with traditions in art and design that are as handsome as any I have seen elsewhere in Middle Earth. The walls are decorated with gems and crystals that sparkle in the light of many torches. Rich wall hangings show the history of the Aûle's children, good and bad and I hope I am allowed a closer look at them before I leave. I know I am fortunate to be given this opportunity to see these wonders for myself and will be sure to let others know of the beauties wrought by the dwarves below the earth.
The throne room is filled with dwarves of all kinds and as we make our way down the centre of the hall I am aware of the many glances that come our way and am suddenly glad that I am dressed as I am. As our party comes to an end I look up at King Thorin.
The king sits on a stone throne at the top of a steep flight of carved alabaster steps. Light streams in from the vents high in the vaulted ceilings so that he is illuminated, as is the embossed gold tooling on his leather armour and his crown.
We are welcomed warmly enough and when I am called upon to pass on the greetings sent by my revered father mighty king of the wood to the new king under the mountain I do so without error and I can see Thorin is impressed when I actually manage a word or two in Khuzdul which I have been carefully coached in by Gimli.
We exchange pleasantries and Thorin asks me of my role in the Quest and then says that he would wish us to meet again in private to begin negotiations meant to pave the way to better relations between the mountain and the wood something that I know my father will be pleased about.
I make all the correct noises over this and step back my part in the audience over for now and Thorin looks down at Gimli and his family.
"Welcome home Gimli son of Gloin and Vonild, we have heard some of your exploits in the outer lands and look forward to speaking to you at length over what happened in the far south, but for now," Thorin turned his coal black eyes to Lady Vonild "I have been informed that our guest has retrieved something of great interest to us, and that he then presented this something to you." He smiles and I think that I could get to like this king. "I trust you will not think I am too inquisitive Vonild daughter of Urhild, kinswoman and honored clan chief, but I would dearly love to know what it was that Prince Legolas placed in your care."
Vonild takes the shrouded axe from her husband, moving forward to stand next to Thorin's throne.
She lifts her voice so that everyone present can hear her words "From our hands to yours oh mighty king. Long has this treasure been lost to us, now thanks to the efforts of Prince Legolas son of the elven king Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen it is returned to its proper place. Behold the Great Red Axe of Barazantathul."
As she speaks Vonild pulls the cloth off the axe and hands it to Thorin with a courtly bow. There is a gasp of disbelief from the assembled court and everyone cranes forward to catch a glimpse of this, their greatest battle axe, and axe which has long been lost to them.
The king takes the axe looking as surprised and shocked as everyone else there but then grasps the haft of the axe and lifts it high into the air calling out.
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"
And the whole assembly erupts into cheers and shouting with many dwarves pushing forward to shake my hand and demand to be told just how I managed to return their treasure to them.
I think this is going to be a very long day.
XXXXX
Even though I still do not approve of how it came about, I cannot help being pleased at the scene before me. When Mam's tough exterior is finally penetrated, she can be as sentimental as the next matron, and it seems that Legolas has finagled his way into her heart. She coddles and pets him in the same outrageous fashion she does with her own grandson, often much to his mother's chagrin. What I am most surprised about is that Legolas seems to enjoy receiving the attention as much as she does giving it. I would never have expected this after our visit to the White City, where he removed himself from the company of any doting females with as much haste as possible. He seems perfectly comfortable with the situation though, and charms my mother and sister further when her tries out the new Khuzdul phrases he has been practicing. These words spoken with what is deemed an 'adorable accent,' by my sister, must be the most enchanting speech ever to pass the lips of anyone under the mountain if we are to judge by the amount of praise that is bestowed upon him. If he has not already won Mam over completely, he certainly does so when, seeing my father standing next to the hearth, he quickly stands up and graciously offers him the chair he has been occupying. Vonild and Gloin both smile in appreciation of his fine manners.
He catches my eye briefly and I nod my own approval, causing him to beam with pleasure. I feel my heart begin to soften as it always does; no matter how determined I am to remain stern. Foolish and careless he may sometimes be, but I cannot stay annoyed with him for long seeing how eager he is to please me. Still it would be less exhausting if he were to attempt to do so in a rather less spectacular manner. As the evening wears on I begin to feel the full effect of the day weighing on me. I've been through enough wildly fluctuating emotions for a lifetime packed into a few hours and I hope tomorrow will prove to be a bit less dramatic. Legolas must be experiencing similar feelings for soon after Mam has encouraged him to place his head in her lap and begun stroking his hair; he falls into a deep sleep. No doubt this is the first moment he has felt relaxed enough to sleep so soundly since we left Eryn Lasgalen.
I start to awaken him, but Mam will not have it, so I easily lift him and am surprised when he does not stir. He must be very fatigued to sleep through being carried like this, but he does not wake up even when I shift his weight causing his head to roll onto my shoulder. I incline my head toward the door of the bedchamber, indicating to Dorbryn that she should open it for me. She does so and also pulls the quilt back and tucks it up around him as soon as I deposit him onto the bed. I chuckle thinking of how embarrassed he would be to know she has performed this service that she probably does every night with her own son. She sees nothing strange in her actions though as she brushes the hair back from his face. As she turns to leave she nearly stumbles over the traveling trunk parked at the end of the bed. This reminds her of something.
"Do you suppose he has proper attire for the meeting with the king tomorrow?"
Thinking about the fuss he made when formal clothing was called for in Eryn Lasgalen, I tell her that probably depends on if he did his own packing or not. She hesitates only a moment before opening the trunk and begins removing items, hanging them up and brushing the wrinkles out. I laugh as she exclaims over the mithril circlet she finds carefully wrapped and folded in among soft fabrics. Evidently his packing was at least supervised or that item would never have made it into the trunk. She finally is satisfied that everything is ready, and we depart the room and say our goodnights. I am asleep almost before my head hits the pillow.
When I awaken my first thought is that today is a day history will be made. Long will the tale be told of the return of the Great Axe and the surprising hero who managed to recover it.
When I have dressed and made my way in to the common room I see the axe lying on the table, having been cleaned and polished to perfection. What might be a glorious sight to others makes me quake. Never in my whole life will I be able to look at it and not recall the harrowing experience of yesterday when I thought the course of my life to be changed forever.
Legolas appears in the room looking very regal indeed and immediately goes to admire the axe, reaching out to touch the gleaming metal. It is clear that he is supremely pleased with his accomplishment and I have the strangest desire to tweak his ear in order to wipe that satisfied look off his face. I restrain myself, however, and must be content with teasing him about how pretty he looks in his formal attire. This removes the smile from his face just as effectively as a box to the ears would have, and I am inordinately pleased with myself for I can no longer abide his self satisfied demeanor over having almost killed himself for this weapon. Even though I know it is a childish response, I am amused at the scowl that my teasing elicits. It is more comical still when Dorbryn remembers his robes and circlet when we are almost out the door and rushes to fetch them for him. The dismay in his face makes it clear that he had thought he was home and dry on the issue of having to wear them and I admit to chuckling at his discomfort. After all I should get some entertainment out of this situation after everything he has put me through.
But as our party walks on together toward King Thorin's receiving chambers, I feel a great satisfaction with how this visit is turning out. After our less than warm reception, I would have never dreamed that my mother would have such a change of heart, even declaring Legolas dwarf-kin, a member of her own clan. It is much more than I had hoped for, and it is a fine picture they make walking hand in hand on the way to meet the King.
The Royal Hall is as magnificent as ever and I enjoy watching Legolas' reaction to the grandeur, his eyes growing large in delight. I look around at the staring crowd. I did not expect so many to be in attendance for our audience with the king, but it is not every day an elf of the wood is seen under the mountain and having a meeting with the King to boot. Certainly some have come to hear what the king will say to this stranger, and others have come just to gape. This will likely be the topic of gossip around the Grand Hall for weeks to come, and they don't even know about Barazantathul yet. I cannot imagine the chaos that will erupt when the Great Axe is revealed. The lad may indeed wish he had not been so hasty in retrieving it after all.
When Legolas is called upon to speak to the king, he does so beautifully, even correctly saying all the Khuzdul words we practiced so diligently together. His father would be tremendously pleased, and I can barely contain my own pride in him as he says all the right things without making one mistake in speech or decorum. It is a big step in healing relations between our realms. Then it is time for the big event.
Mam plays to the crowd as she uncovers the axe and hands it to her kinsman and king. All present, even King Thorin himself murmurs in disbelief at first, but the king recovers quickly. He lifts the Great Axe high over his head and shouts at the top of his voice.
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"
This battle cry has the crowd on its feet immediately, each dwarf trying to out shout the others to find out how this wondrous feat has been accomplished. The crowd pushes forward, everyone trying to get a closer look at the axe or to touch the one who has been able to rescue it from its former resting place. Legolas looks at me in a panic, having been hemmed in from all sides by the roaring crowd and I shoulder my way through the melee until I am standing next to him where I try my best to offer some protection. Seeing our predicament, Mam whispers something to the king, who raises his voice again, calling for silence. When the crowd turns toward him, he makes an announcement.
"Today is a glorious day. This day the great treasure once belonging to my esteemed father and king, the great warrior Dáin II Ironfoot, has been returned to its rightful place. Tomorrow evening Barazantathul shall be positioned in the place of honor that has been long reserved and then we feast! We shall all hear the tale of how Barazantathul was regained tomorrow together!"
With that the crowd departs, swiftly. Preparations for tomorrow's events will have to be made immediately if the king's wishes are to be fulfilled. Legolas is seemingly so relieved at this sudden reprieve, that we are home, changed back into ordinary clothes and sipping tea, before he thinks to ask me what the king meant when he said the crowd would all hear at the feast tomorrow the tale of how the axe was retrieved.
"He meant exactly what he said, Lad," I say, laughing at the anxiety that suddenly shows on his face. "This is an event that will go down in history, so of courses everyone will want the tale of how it was achieved."
"I only wanted to bring back the axe," he protests, "not get up in front of a crowd and tell a story about it."
"As I said before, you should have thought this through better then," I say unsympathetically. "Dwarves are famous tellers of tales, and it will not do to leave this one untold. You are the only one who knows exactly how it happened, so who else better to tell it?"
Looking thoroughly panicked he begins to stammer, "I…I cannot possibly! There must be some other way. Please tell me there is some other way, Elvellon!"
"I'm sorry, Elfling, there is no other way," I say patting his hand comfortingly. "You will have to either tell the tale or offend the king." And then my wet blanket of a father kills my fun.
"He's only having you on, Lad," He says and Legolas throws me a dirty look. "The story will have to be told, but you will not have to do the telling. You can tell it to me and I will spin it into a yarn worth retelling for generations to come."
Legolas lets out a breath and clutches his chest in relief, but then he has something else to say, "I will tell you, Lord Gloin, but not in front of Gimli. He can just wait with everyone else to hear the tale."
My father and I both chortle over this proclamation. No doubt he would rather have the protection of the masses around him when I hear all the details of what happened on his misguided and unapproved adventure.
"Very well," I say, standing up to exit the room, "I can see I am not wanted here. I shall go and hunt out my nephew and see how his drawings are coming along."
As I said when we first passed the gates of Erebor, this will at least be interesting. I am looking forward to tomorrow and the tale of the Return of Barazantathul. At least I think I am.
XXXX
I think it is the sound more than anything that overwhelms me, I have attended many a feast before some in stranger surroundings than this, but perhaps never one where all present appear to be speaking at the top of their voice.
All around me dwarves are talking, laughing, singing as the feast King Thorin commanded runs its course. I am sitting at the top table, an honored guest, feted and thanked by the king, for my return of the Great Axe. Earlier today there was a ceremony to see it placed in triumph on its allotted plinth and there was much rejoicing that such a great piece of dwarven history was restored to the folk of Erebor and now we feast and listen to songs, poems and tales of the Red Axe told by the best story tellers. I admit to the fact that my understanding of Khuzdul is limited and much of what has been said has passed me by but it is clear from the reactions of everyone else present that these tales are much appreciated, just as the stories and ballads of the battles and triumphs of the First Age are enjoyed by the elves.
So, I do what I can to catch the meaning of the songs and laugh or thump the table when others do to show I am enjoying myself. In truth, my stomach is tied up in knots and I can scarcely force food past my lips but I am not my father's child for nothing and I keep my head high and a smile pinned to my face even while I wish myself leagues away from here.
Not because I do not enjoy the company I am in, or the fine foods that have been placed in front of me. Gimli has long boasted of the hospitality of the dwarves and I now know he did not exaggerate. It is just that all too soon Lord Gloin will bring the feast to an end with a telling of how I rescued the Axe and even should he temper his words I very much fear that Gimli will fly into a rage when he hears the truth of my 'daring' rescue attempt.
I was able to postpone an appointment with his wrath last evening by refusing to tell my story to any save Gloin, but tonight all will hear of it and although I have done my best to play down any danger to myself, Lord Gloin was there at the bridge and saw for himself what I had done and his questioning of me last night, done he said in a spirit of 'getting the full truth to enable veracity was sharp enough to leave me in little doubt as to where Gimli gets his stubborn determination from.
The latest song comes to a rollicking end amid much cheering and laughter and the king rises and calls for silence before commending all to listen to Lord Gloin. This is the part of the evening I have been dreading and wish now that the floor would open and swallow me up as Gloin gets to his feet to begin his tale.
I risk a peek at Gimli as he sits on the king's other side and he offers me a frown, as he readies himself to hear his father tell the tale of the 'elven prince and the return of the Great Red Axe, Barazantathul.' I try and smile but fear it comes out more as a grimace, so hide my face by lifting my goblet to my lips. Not that I have swallowed any of the ale I have been offered. It is not to my taste and I need to keep a clear head if I am to stand any chance of explaining away my actions should the need arise and thereby avoiding another session over my guardian's knee.
A hush falls over the gathering and it seems everyone is listening attentively, Lord Gloin is obviously a master story teller for he soon has the dwarves 'oohing and aahing', cheering and stamping their feet, many of the listeners throw looks in my direction as if wondering at my bravery, or perhaps my insanity as the story unfolds!
While I do not fully understand what he is now saying, the timbre of his voice, the movements of his hands and the way he pauses for effect every so often tells me that he is intent on making the story as 'thrilling' as he can.
'We dwarves are very fond of such stories' he told me last evening 'they are our favorites and it behooves a good story teller to add as many twists and flourishes to the plot as to make it interesting to all' He had laughed at my face when he said this and told me not to worry. I did plead most especially with him to explain that for an elf to cross a space on a single rope was not an unusual occurrence and nothing out of the ordinary way, but I do not think he believed me although he promised not to make me out to be any more than I was. But seeing Gimli's face as Gloin mimes my crossing the rope bridge I fear Gloin has forgotten that pledge.
I make a furtive attempt to gauge Gimli's reaction of what has been told so far. He is looking a little pale and unlike everyone else is sitting quietly, his hands grasping the edge of the table tightly. He turns his head and I see the horror and fear in his eyes as he re-lives the moments he thought I had fallen to my death and my stomach twists even further into tight knots.
Oh how I have hurt him yet I did what I did with the best of intentions and would do such a thing again for him no matter the painful consequences to myself.
Lord Gloin eventually brings the story to a triumphant end and the whole hall erupts with shouting and clapping even while Gimli still looks a little grim as if still caught up in his memories. I fear for my backside for a moment and then his mother speaks to him and Gimli seems to rouse himself from his reverie and he joins in the general applause for a story well told and calls for another round of ale to toast his father with. Then he offers me a smile and I hope that perhaps I may find myself to be forgiven. I sink back into my seat much relieved. Perhaps now I can enjoy the next part of the evening.
The tables and chairs in the main hall are being pulled back to make a space for dancing, and a group of dwarves appear carrying drums, horns and tabors.
As they began to tune their instruments, Gimli motions for me to come and stand beside him. I wonder whether I have been premature in my thoughts that my backside is safe, but it seems he has indeed forgiven me for he even entertains me with a highly embellished account of what his father has said in his tale telling. I am put to the blush on several occasions but I count it small cost to see Gimli enjoying himself so well.
As we talk, the first dance starts up and I watch as two circles form, females in the inner one and males in the outer. The beat of the drum is relentless and I find myself tapping a hand on the back of Gimli's seat and watching the way the two circles moved in opposite directions and the rhythmic stamping of feet I would very much like to join in but know enough of dwarven society to know I must not do so unless I am invited to do so by a matron of one of the clans.
I am soon rewarded for my forbearance when Lady Vonild comes to me and asks me to join her in the dance if I should wish to do so.
Gimli says "Go on lad show them how elegantly the elves can dance" he tells me and I am not sure whether that is an imp of mischief in his eyes as he pushes me toward the floor. Fortunately I am not called upon to dance on my own but am welcomed into a space between King Thorin and Lord Gloin and am soon stamping, clapping and swaying with the best of them.
It is late before the dancing comes to an end and we retire to Lord Gloin's home, and Lady Vonild knowing that on the morrow Gimli and I will take our leave of Erebor urges both to get some sleep.
I find myself sorry to think of leaving but I look forward to going home again. It is only when Lord Gloin mentions that the king is intending to write to my father to tell him of the great service I have done the dwarves of Erebor that I begin to wonder exactly what sort of welcome I will actually get when I arrive at the stronghold.
XXXX
The tales have been going on for hours now, each one more exciting than the last. The best storytellers have come out on this very special occasion, and the crowd becomes more and more boisterous as each tale brings us closer to the moment all have been waiting for. Each storyteller brings the excitement level another notch higher until the sound of the celebration is almost riotous, but when my father gets to his feet the noise comes to a complete stop. You could hear a pin drop as everyone waits breathlessly for the much anticipated story to begin.
Legolas, who has been pretending to sip from the same goblet of ale all evening, gives me a cautious glance. No doubt he is concerned that I am not going to like hearing the story my father is about to tell. Had he not feared offending the king, I imagine he would have never told anyone the harrowing details of the rescue of Barazantathul, though the collapsed bridge and the dangling rope already told the story well enough to me. I keep reminding myself that anything I might hear tonight will just be added details to what I already know or suspect. There is no reason to be distressed further and I have promised my father that I will not call the lad to account again over new details that might be revealed. I wouldn't consider it anyway since I've already told him all is well between us. I have forgiven him and will not renege on what I have said, but I am still annoyed enough to let him sweat over it a bit.
Lord Gloin is a brilliant storyteller, and soon I am caught up with the rest of the audience in the riveting account of the rescue of the Red Axe. But while the others cheer and shout in approval, I find myself reliving the horror of the moment when I saw the destroyed bridge and thought yonder elfling crushed beneath the wreckage. The dreadfulness of that moment clings to me even after the crowd erupts in applause and is not until Mam reminds me that the story has ended that I return to myself and join in the merriment. Legolas is still watching me in some concern so I ease his anxiety by offering a wink and a smile. He seems to practically wilt into his chair, so great is his relief.
It is only now that I remember that he will not have understood much of what was said this evening, which undoubtedly has added to his discomfort, though he has made a supreme effort to hide the fact. I am certain that I alone have noticed he was having a less than pleasant time. It will not do for him to leave Erebor without getting to hear the story as it was told to the crowd today, so I call him to me and begin translating it into Common. My father has set the bar high, but I do my best to mimic his storytelling skills as I retell this tale to my audience of one. Any remaining frustration that I have toward him now fades completely as he blushes at the more revealing details of the story. I find it comical that while he had no trepidations about crossing a bottomless chasm on a single rope and digging through the grisly remains of orcs and goblins to retrieve the axe, he finds it almost excruciating to hear it told. I end the tale with the same triumphant flair my father did, and almost I am tempted to add an epilogue to this story just to see the lad's reaction. I do not but can't help saying, "You'll remember well enough what happened next." He reddens further and nods in reply, and then our attention is drawn to the musicians who are beginning the opening song for the dancing.
Lady Vonild invites Legolas to joins the dancing, and I encourage him with a push toward the crowd. As with everything he endeavors to do, he learns the steps quickly and soon looks quite comfortable joining in the revelry.
The celebration finally winds down in the small hours of the morning, and we return to my father's home exhausted, but satisfied with the evening's fine entertainment. Tomorrow we leave Erebor and I must be sure to intercept the letter that is being sent to King Thranduil for fear that it might get 'lost' before reaching the one it was meant for. I will travel as far as the edge of the woods to return the princeling back to his waiting escort. He of course does not see the necessity of this precaution but is unlikely to bother arguing for he knows it will be pointless. Besides that neither of us are in a hurry to depart company. We have grown very close over the past year together and it will seem strange indeed when he is no longer by my side on a daily basis. It will not be for long, I hope. If he can obtain permission to do so, we will meet again in Minas Tirith some time next sping to help with restoring the White City to its former glory.
Our attempt to mend fences between our two realms has most decidedly been a great success, though it has very little to do with anything I have said or done. Legolas' careless foolishness has made him, not only acceptable to the folk under the mountain, but a veritable hero whose name will be heard in tales for years to come. Had I known what was going to happen during our stay here, I would have left him behind no matter that we had made an earlier agreement. Begrudgingly I must admit, though, that his returning of the axe has made a giant leap in what would otherwise have been a slow and arduous process. In spite of everything, I am pleased with the results of our mission. Though I shall never be reconciled with how it was achieved, I am content with the peace that will no doubt reign between the wood and the mountain. We both knew that good relations were possible between elves and dwarves, before we entered the gates of the Lonely Mountain. As we leave tomorrow we will have the satisfaction of knowing that all dwelling under the mountain now believe it as well.