Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns everything save for characters not seen in his works.
We're okay, just a little rough around the edges.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
T.A. 2941
Imladris - Rivendell - Last Homely House
They emerged from the long and winding tunnel about an hour or so after their escape from the warg pack. The sun was low on the horizon and it bathed the valley that they stood in with a warm orange glow. The walls were sheer and steep, slowly widening as they continued down to the bottom. Little waterfalls decorated the stone walls, falling into a large lake at the very bottom before winding into a river and flowing off beyond their line of sight.
Along the farthest rock face of the valley lay a city, carved into the stone and rising up the side of the valley. Lush trees dotted the stone work, and bridges connected the buildings to one another as the waterfalls broke up the city, unhindered by the structure.
Even in her dazed state, Nuil knew this place, recognized it and felt a gentle sigh escape her lips. Rivendell. It was only when she felt Thorin stiffen, that she realized just what Gandalf had done. Nuil knew that Thorin was furious with the wizard. Even before he spoke.
"This was your plan all along," he growled to Gandalf. The wizard was leaning on his staff, giving the dwarf king a disgruntled look.
"It's best that you accept it," Gandalf said. "They can offer you food, rest, and supplies. Which we are indeed short on since the ponies bolted. You are safe here, Thorin. Besides, there are hurts that need to be tended to." His jerked out his chin towards Nuil.
Thorin's face filled with anger and he opened his mouth to retort. Nuil knew he was going to say something that would upset Gandalf. She wouldn't mind, normally, but her shoulder has begun to burn. She had little doubt that the arrowhead was rusted. She reached up and touched the warm skin of his throat. Thorin looked down at her, masking his surprise well.
"Just . . . listen . . . to the wizard," she murmured tiredly. Nuil let her eyes drift shut, waiting for his response. Thorin sighed heavily.
"They will try to stop us."
"Only if they find out where, and what we are doing." He grunted and began down the path. "Which is why I will do the talking."
Thorin glared at his back. He felt extremely ill at ease with the situation. He didn't trust those tree loving, pointy eared, traitors. Again he was startled by Nuil's warm hand on the skin of his throat. It was as if she was trying to reassure him that everything would be alright, while at the same time reminding him that she was burning up and in need of healing.
Well, he didn't like it. But Nuil needed that wound cleaned and his dwarves needed food. Glaring at the elven house, he followed after Gandalf.
Mahal help him.
They filed into a courtyard, the entrance flanked by two towering statues of elven warriors. Another set of stairs led up to the main house, these were guarded by two guards in long gray cloaks, holding long spears. Thorin eyed them warily, his fingers itching to hold his ax or sword. Nuil shifted in his arms, paling slightly, as she cast her eyes about the courtyard.
An elf appeared, descending the steps. Gandalf stepped closer to the elf, speaking in elvish. Thorin's lip curled.
"What are they saying?" growled Dwalin from beside Thorin. Nuil grunted.
"I think . . . pleasantries," she murmured. "I do not understand elvish as well as I do khuzdul. Something about Lord Elrond."
As the elf began to answer a horn sounded, cutting through the air and Gandalf turned. A long line of horses came thundering over the bridge.
"Close ranks!" he shouted when the galloping horses did not slow. The massive horses encircled them, the riders looking down at them with a hint of malice in their gazes. They pulled their horses to a halt as a rider dismounted near Gandalf, handing a sword to the elf beside the wizard. His armor was of fine material, and his bearing that of nobility. Thorin assumed that this was the elf Gandalf wanted to see. They also spoke in elvish.
"What are they sayin' now, lass?" Dwalin asked. Suspicion lacing his gruff voice.
Nuil grimaced. "I think they are talking about orcs."
"Is he referring to us?!" Gloin demanded hotly, stepping forward.
"No, master dwarf," said the elf turning to them. "Merely the filth that followed you."
Gloin grunted, resting his hands on the head of his ax. He was in no hurry to apologize to these elves.
"I am Lord Elrond," he went on. "This is the last elven house west of the mountains. I welcome you, friends of Mithrandir." The Company looked at each other, some with confusion, while others with distrust. "And welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain."
Nuil felt Thorin tense.
"How do you know my name?" he asked suspiciously.
"I knew your grandfather, when he was King Under the Mountain."
"Really? He made no mention of you," Thorin said, ignoring the thunderous look Gandalf gave him. He was tired of this, and he hated that he was crawling to elves for help.
Elrond lifted a brow, but he was unable to tell if he had upset the elf. His eyes were drawn down to the woman in his arms.
"I see you are in need of healing, sustenance, and shelter," Elrond said.
Thorin loathed to admit that the elf was right. Bilbo shuffled forward, drawing Elrond's attention.
"You can help her?" He asked, with wide pleading eyes.
Elrond straightened, gazing at the hobbit curiously. "I certainly can. Come, you must eat, I will tend to the ladies wounds."
Thorin tightened his grip on Nuil, glaring at the elf that approached them. He was clearly intending on taking her.
"Thorin," Gandalf murmured. "She is in safe hands. The sooner she is tended to, the sooner she may join you."
With a glare he let the elf lift Nuil into his arms. He had half a mind to demand they let him take her, but glancing at Dwalin, and the murderous looks they were giving the elves made it important that he stay and make sure they didn't do something to have them thrown out. Not that Thorin would mind leaving this place.
His gaze strayed back to Nuil, her face lined with pain, ashen. Thorin felt guilt wash through him. He should be the one with an arrow in his shoulder. Not her. The elf ascended the stairs and Elrond gestured that they should follow, except they were guided by another elf. The Company was directed down another hallway, the elf with Nuil heading in an entirely different direction.
Thorin paused, watching as she was carried further away. She should be with them. Not with people she didn't know. What if she had to defend herself? He wouldn't be there, they wouldn't be there.
"Thorin," Dwalin said gruffly from a few feet away. Thorin straightened his shoulders. "She'll pull through." Thorin nodded, noticing how Dwalin's face changed as he spoke about her. Was that, respect, in his eyes? The warrior tilted his head, a gesture to follow. With a barely concealed sigh, Thorin followed after his dwarves.
A gentle scent filled her nose, and she could dimly make out little white flowers. They smelled so wonderful.
Voices filled the air. Lilting and melodic. They sounded like birdsong. Nuil tilted her head falling into blissful sleep again, unaware of the panic that filled the air as she drifted once more.
Elrond stood as the dwarves entered the dining area, Gandalf remained seated at his side. The lower table, which a majority of the company saw, soon filled with grumbling dwarves. Thorin made to join them but hesitated when Gandalf called to him.
"Thorin! A word?"
The dwarf king glanced at Dwalin, who in turn frowned at Gandalf. Thorin slowly made his way to them, sitting in the chair that Elrond gestured to, with a barely concealed look of distrust. Once seated he leveled his gaze on the two, wary and silent, waiting for them to continue.
Elrond sat down, settling into his chair.
"The woman," Elrond began, watching as Thorin unconsciously sat up straighter. "We removed the arrow, and found it to be laced with poison. She will heal, but know that she nearly passed into the halls of Mandos this day."
"What?" Thorin breathed, shocked. "Where is-"
"Nuil is resting," Gandalf said, cutting him off. "It would be best to leave her be, at the time being."
Thorin narrowed his eyes at the wizard. He did not enjoy being spoken over, nor not knowing what was happening. It was beyond his control and he hated it. More so, he would rather be at her side than sitting at a table with an elf.
"When will she be able to join us?" he asked, glaring at Gandalf.
"She is of the race of men," Elrond told him, "I would say seven days, to a fortnight."
Thorin blanched, lowering his eyes to the table. A fortnight? They didn't have a fortnight. He wanted to get to the Lonely Mountain before the cold weather set in. Before the snow came and the ground froze, the animals went into their winter slumber. Would he have to leave her here, in the care of the elves, (who he wouldn't even trust with the care of his enemies), while they finished their quest?
Gandalf cleared his throat and Thorin rose his eyes. "Nuil is the daughter of Nolan, the long-lived of the race of men. I would say she will wake tomorrow and you will be hard pressed, Elrond, to keep her in her bed."
Elrond's lips pulled downwards, as he looked out across the courtyard.
"I've known her and her kin to heal miraculously," Gandalf went on.
"The daughter of Nolan?" Elrond asked, looking to Gandalf once more. "I believe I met Master Nolan once, many years ago. He was passing through, on his own. He had stayed once before with a daughter and son, but I was called away on important matters and did not meet them then."
"Did you?" Gandalf said.
"So she is Nuil . . . daughter of Nolan . . ." he grew silent. Thorin frowned at the two. Nuil had been here before, she certainly did not mention that when she spoke of her travels. Perhaps it was wise, he thought, considering that not many dwarrow liked hearing about elves. It would be a very unwelcomed story indeed.
"Tell me, Thorin," Elrond went on, "what brought you to Rivendell? It is rare that we find orcs so close to our borders and near the High Road. Let alone, orcs who chase dwarves into our city."
"We are traveling to our kin in the Iron Hills," Thorin responded automatically. He was glad to have thought of that before hand. But he suspected that Elrond did not believe him.
"With a hobbit and a wizard?"
Thorin was certain that the elf would not believe a word he said on the matter now. As much as he disliked it, he looked to Gandalf, not even bothering to hide his glare. What should he say now? He hardly liked telling the enemy where he was going. They would hinder the quest, or stop them, maybe even try to reach Erebor before he did and claim his mountain. His gold.
"Necessary members when traveling through lands foreign to dwarves," Gandalf spoke up. "The Shire is indeed a daunting place to travel through should you be of a race that is wholly foreign to them. Our dear Bilbo was a guide, and now he is accompanying them to see the lands surrounding his home."
"Indeed?" Elrond murmured.
"Quite. Why, before we ran into the orc pack, we had a run in with a group of mountain trolls from the Ettenmoors. Bilbo managed to buy them time before the sun rose."
"Trolls from the Ettenmoors?" Elrond said. "So far south?"
"We even found their hoard," Gandalf said. He lifted something from beneath the table, which turned out to be the sword he had found in the troll cave. Gandalf let Elrond take it, drawing it from the scabbard and examining the blade. Thorin watched as Elrond's eyes widened slightly, his fingers ghosting over the metal.
"This is Glamdring, forged by the High Elves of Gondolin," he murmured.
"Thorin," Gandalf said, looking to the dwarf-king. Thorin glared at Gandalf. "Show him the sword."
Begrudgingly, Thorin lifted the elven sword he had found in the cave onto the table, sure that once Elrond saw it he would take it for his own. Elrond stared at it for a moment.
"May I?" he asked.
Thorin nodded, watching carefully as he lifted it into his hands, giving it the same treatment as he had given to Glamdring.
"This . . . this is Orcrist, the goblin cleaver. Also forged by the High Elves of Gondolin, my kin," he said. "Like many weapons forged in those days, it will glow when orcs or goblins are around. May it serve you well." To Thorin's surprise, Elrond passed the blade back to him, without even asking if he had stolen it or not. He accepted it back with a grateful nod.
Elrond looked at Gandalf. "There is much that needs to be discussed. For now," he looked to Thorin, "you will eat. I will check on the Lady Nuil." He rose and gave them both a slight bow. "Until this evening."
Elrond left them, followed by his adviser. Thorin turned to Gandalf.
"Much to be discussed?" he sneered.
"There is no need to be so untrusting, Thorin," Gandalf admonished. "Lord Elrond is a wise and proud elf. He will not hinder your quest."
"He is an elf."
"But there are also secret paths from Rivendell that not all who live here know about," Gandalf said with a gleam in his eyes. Thorin stilled, interest peaking in him.
"Secret paths?"
"Only Lord Elrond would know these paths, but not all his guard," Gandalf said. "There is one, near the falls that takes a path up the valley and to the top where it leads right into the path of the Misty Mountains."
"Is it a path that takes us into danger?" Thorin questioned.
"No. But it is a path that you can escape from. You must use it on the day of your departure."
Thorin leaned back in his chair, nodding his head. But Gandalf wasn't finished. "You must show Lord Elrond the map, he may be able to tell us more."
The sun had set many hours ago, and he had spoken with Lord Elrond, concerning the map. Much to Balin's disapproval. But it had to be done, there was no way that they could have known about the moon runes that were written on the map. They would not have known where the door was. They would not know when the entrance would appear.
But rather than being a comfort with its knowledge, it felt more like a burden. A burden now that there was a set deadline. Durin's day.
A day not far from them now. To make it in time they would have to leave either tonight or the early morning after. It wasn't far from his mind that Nuil was still resting from her wounds. Still hindered by it, and Elrond's estimate of her return to health- he knew if she wasn't up and walking- they would have to leave her behind.
In Rivendell. With elves.
Thorin climbed the steps leading to the courtyard that the Company had taken residence in, eyes on his feet and feeling more weary and world worn than he had in years. Sleep would do him good.
"I sense a darkness in him," a voice rose up in the night air. Thorin paused, glancing up, searching for the source. He spotted Bilbo on the landing, staring out into the valley. Thorin continued on until he was standing just behind Bilbo, the hobbit giving a slight start when he realized that Thorin was beside him. But Thorin's eyes were on Gandalf and Elrond, walking on a path, a level below them. They had paused and now faced each other.
"Thorin is not Thror," Gandalf said firmly. "He will not fall to the same illness that plagued his grandfather-"
"And his own father," Elrond said. "It is plain to see it in his eyes. Like his father and grandfather, he will be consumed by it when he lays eyes on the hoard within that mountain."
"I believe you give Thorin so little confidence, he is strong-"
"Stronger than them? It is in his blood, there is little hope that he will escape that fate. Thorin will fall to gold sickness, he will turn on his own kin."
Thorin could see Bilbo glance at him from the corner of his eye. But he couldn't focus on anything other than what Gandalf and Elrond were saying.
"He will overcome it."
"And the woman? Lady Nuil? It is plain to see that he cares for her. And when the time comes, and the gold is all his waking thought will care for, will he cast her aside? Turn against her like his kin?"
"It is what I hope to help him through," Gandalf said. "I will watch him. Like I have watched over all those under my care."
"Watch?" Elrond questioned. "You are not the only one to watch over Middle Earth, these long years." He began to walk away, out of ear shot and Gandalf followed him. Thorin stepped back, the words ringing in his ears. He was aware of Bilbo's concerned and pitying gaze, but refused to see it.
Turn on his own? Gold sickness?
He couldn't even dwell on the thought of turning into what his grandfather and father had become. Obsessed. Crazed. Blinded by their greed. To the point of ending their own lives even. Instead of heading up the stairs to where the rest of his company were resting, he turned and went back down the stairs. Bilbo watching him as he disappeared around a corner.
Hey, guys. It's been a long couple of weeks for me. I won't sit here and write it out in detail, but my grandma died. It's been rough. Haven't really felt like writing, or really doing much. Don't have much motivation at the moment, but I had some notes written down and decided I might as well write and post since it's been so long.
I actually ended up scrapping this chapter and the next one(which I'll post tonight), I know my writing has been sloppy and not easy to follow. I saw the movie and had new ideas, then I decided I was just going to freestyle it. So you'll definitely notice that I won't be following the movie or books in detail. Hopefully it will make the story a little less predictable/boring. I know this romance is slow, I didn't mean for it to happen like that, just sort of . . . happened. I kind of like it, hopefully I won't drive anyone crazy with it.
I want to thank all my readers and reviewers. Thanks for sticking with this, and reviewing.
Read and review!
~filimeala