26 - Captive Audience
"Nibnadan, how do you fare this afternoon?"
The Man looked darkly at the Elvenking, pride and hatred obvious in his features. According to the guards' report, he seemed in good spirits, still taking the daily half wafer of lembas bread and water offered, but refused to speak. He turned his fiery gaze back to the wall.
"I have brought a guest who is eager to meet you. I present King Droin of Khazad-dum."
The Man's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet as Droin took a clunking step forward to come into view. The Dwarf's sharp eyes twinkled as he studied the prisoner.
"Well, what greeting do you have for my guest?" Thranduil prodded.
The Man's eyes shifted uncertainly between the two kings for a moment, evaluating the situation. He cleared his throat but could not prevent the hoarseness of misuse from tainting his voice. "Ah, King Thranduil, once again you lure interesting company into your traps under the false guise of friendship. Is this not the leader of the ones you have called 'grimy, dim rock-eaters?'"
Droin raised his eyebrows. Thranduil said nothing but cocked his head slightly as he stared at the prisoner. The Man turned to Droin. "Your majesty, beware of the tales this Elf and his people spin. Their long lives allow them to think at leisure on how to manipulate others to their own advantage. I would not place my trust in anything he says."
"Well, Little Man, whom then shall I trust?" asked Droin gruffly. "You?"
"If you would trust a man at the first meeting, King Droin, then you are just as much of a fool as King Thranduil claims," he answered, his bearing proud. "However, if the Elf king would release me to you, I would earn my place in your court. At the very least, I believe you and I could teach this pointy-eared muck-spout a thing or two about hospitality."
Droin grunted and finally turned to Thranduil. "Elvenking, will you release him to me?"
"If you wish," Thranduil said nonchalantly. "You can collect him at the end of your visit."
The Man's eyes lit up with hope. "You have tired so soon of tormenting me, King Thranduil?" he taunted.
"Your treatment here has been far better than you deserve," Thranduil answered coolly, "though you have failed to recognize our kindness. Your own depravity prevented it. But you will receive the reward for your actions."
Droin broke in, setting his fists on his hips. "Enjoy your remaining time here, you filth. I did not request your release to have you join my court." The Dwarf took a step closer. Despite his shorter stature, his presence was commanding and the fire in his eyes made the Man take an involuntary step back in trepidation. "When you are released to me, you will answer for your crimes against my people."
The Man's face paled and all hope left his eyes.
"Your plan has failed, Nibnadan," Thranduil said as if reading his thoughts, finally permitting his disdain for the human to manifest in his expression. "You and your formless master waited until our two peoples were both in the Greenwood to launch an assault, knowing precisely what our reactions would be. That had been the purpose of your attack, was it not? The Dwarves, victims of an enemy that can move unseen through the Elven forest, would naturally assume that my people were to blame. And the Elves do not suffer unjust accusations. We would have become enemies, perhaps escalating to war, decimating the counts of soldiers on both sides that have not yet recovered from the Siege of Barad-dur."
"Only a coward would mount an attack without allowing their opponent a chance to defend themselves," Droin added, seething. "The death of my kinsmen will fall on your head."
The Man shook his head in denial, but he had no words.
Thranduil took advantage of the silence to continue. "The Dwarf stronghold of Gundabad has already been overtaken once. My father's former fortress on Amon Lanc is abandoned. If the Elves and Dwarves went to war having already compromised the seats of their power in the region, the Greenwood or the entire range of the Misty Mountains would be made into breeding grounds for the lingering servants of darkness, and soon be conquered by Orcs. Such movements would allow the forces of Shadow to prepare a foothold for the Dark Lord's return."
"You are a fool," the Man spat out, pointing at the Elvenking. "I know not by what charms you convinced this bearded cave-dwelling slug to believe your tales, Elf, but it will all come to naught. This fleeting accord will not protect you from what is to come."
"I've heard enough!" Droin shouted suddenly, yanking an ax from his belt. "I will have my vengeance now, Thranduil. Open the doors!"
Droin could hardly finish his sentence before the room was filled with a whispering sound and the floor began to shiver. In a desperate final attempt at escape, the Man had started an incantation, stretching his hands out toward the kings. But the power that he had been given for his main mission had been exhausted. A spark shot from the lock of the cell and he slammed himself against the door. It did not move. The room soon became quiet except for the Man's labored breathing, his energy spent.
The episode was humiliating enough that Droin's anger was abated. "Sorcerer, indeed," he scoffed.
Thranduil said nothing, hiding his fear — not of the impotent Man, but of the realization of just how much power his master had been able to give him for the past battle. He took a breath to steady himself.
"As promised, Droin, I will surrender him to you at the conclusion of your visit," said the Elvenking. Grunting once more in agreement, the Dwarf followed him out of the room.
The guards saluted as they passed out of the prison hall into the daylight, following the path back to the main palace structure to continue with the council meeting. Thranduil reflected with satisfaction on how beneficial the meeting had been thus far, with Soronume's support in identifying what the Dwarves could potentially offer. The most pressing of Greenwood's needs would be met in the form of Dwarven smiths to man the empty Elven forges, whose masters had been killed in the attack, and to take apprentices from among the Elves for one year. In return, the Dwarves would have the assistance of Greenwood's soldiers in traveling the Old Forest Road to their kin in the Grey Mountains as well as a good store of food foraged from the forest.
"You remember, I am sure, that Durin's folk aided in the War of the Last Alliance," Droin commented as they walked.
Thranduil looked at his companion. "I recall," he answered, "though our forces remained separate."
"That has generally been the way of things, between your people and mine," Droin answered with resignation in his tone. "But I will remind you that we shared an enemy then, just as we do now."
"I fear you are right," Thranduil said, hopelessness beginning to rest in his heart.
"Now, Thranduil, you must also remember this: Durin's folk do not flee from a fight. If the Enemy returns, we will resist."
Thranduil hesitated in responding to this very indirect request to stand alongside the Dwarves against Sauron, if he returned. Would he subject his people once again to a war not of their own making? He would be obligated to do so if the Dark Lord were to attempt a direct attack on his realm again. He decided darkly that he would think later on what his decision would be if the Enemy were to make his stand elsewhere.
"I will not allow the Enemy to threaten my people, either," he decided to say.
Droin nodded in satisfaction. At least for now, Durin's folk and Thranduil's were at peace and collaborating. However, the attack in Greenwood revealed that Sauron had not, in fact, been completely defeated. The two kings contemplated this silently the rest of the way.
~.~.~
A feast had been arranged for three days later, to honor the fallen in the Battle of the Unseen Enemy and to celebrate the kingdom's successful negotiations with Droin. Many Silvans came. Those who were not seeking relief from their grief wished to see the Dwarves, a people that had not been seen in the Greenwood for centuries. The small company did not seem the least bit shy, stomping proudly about the place and helping themselves to whatever food and drink they fancied.
Some of the Silvans had heard of Elluin's involvement in the dealings with this strange company, and approached her to ask their various questions. She was seated with her mother at a lower table, a good stone's throw from the high table where Thranduil and Soronume sat with the guests of honor. The Elves felt they could avoid the Dwarves overhearing and becoming offended at this distance. Elluin did her best to avoid laughing at some of the inquiries, finding herself more than once having to explain to some sheltered young Silvans that the hair on the Dwarves' faces did, indeed, grow directly from the skin on their ruddy cheeks just as Elven hair grew from their scalps, and that none of them were likely to grow any taller.
Thranduil had given the opening statements, echoing the words he had used a year past when the southern villages had been attacked. With guidance from Soronume beforehand, he also added appropriate words to commemorate the Dwarves that had fallen to the Unseen Army. The Dwarves were oddly silent during the songs of lamentation. It was as if they had turned to stone as the sounds washed over them. Some had tears in their eyes but none fell.
The Elvenking once again prompted the shift from lamentation to appreciation of the beauty still around them. It was spring, and the night air was gently cool and laden with the scent of blooms. As soon as he had signaled the start of the song, Lady Ninniach's fair voice lifted to lead the rest in the words of reverent reflection.
*I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
~.~
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Mariner's way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
~.~
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:—
A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
~.~
For oft when in my home I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
Before the Elves could change to songs of victory and celebration, Droin stood from where he was seated beside the Elvenking and cleared his throat.
Thranduil glanced quickly at Soronume, who was seated at his other side, and the Elf gave him an encouraging nod. Satisfied that Droin was not likely to ruin the night completely, Thranduil raised a hand to silence the Elves, surrendering the lead to the Dwarf king with barely any hint of reluctance.
**"King Thranduil, estimable residents of Greenwood, and my fellow Dwarves," Droin began, nodding to each group in turn, "we are met together in this remarkably appointed courtyard of our gracious host, the Elvenking — May his reign never end! All praise to his venison and cakes!"
Following Soronume's example out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil raised a goblet and bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment, strange though he found it.
"We have gathered here to remember our fallen comrades, of both Elf- and Dwarf-kind, beset upon by the Unseen Army, as it has now been called, that has attacked both near this illustrious palace and on the outskirts of this great kingdom, on the Old Forest Road. King Thranduil has indeed given a noble address to acknowledge their sacrifice, but I beg the indulgence of our present company to add my own sentiments to the proceedings of the evening."
Thranduil schooled his expression into neutrality. Though he had become accustomed to the Dwarf king's more formal speaking style from council meetings, his people had not yet been subjected to it. He feared that even the patience of the Silvans would be tried with this speech if it were to continue thus. However, he resigned himself not to interrupt and risk insulting him and jeopardizing the agreements they had made.
"As is right among allies, the combined collaboration and insight of the advisors and leaders among our remaining people has cleared any misunderstandings that unfortunately arose as a consequence of the events. Sorrowful though they were, the circumstances have allowed us now to forge a friendship that, I am satisfied — and I trust my host will echo the sentiment — will benefit our two great realms, not only for the time in which our direct association has been determined, but also for many years beyond."
Applause and polite cheers came from the Dwarves at their table, and the Silvans quickly followed suit, realizing that was their visitors' expectation.
"For success in battle," Droin continued, "I have the privilege of acknowledging my brave remaining warriors — a truer company has never been known." At this, the Dwarves rose as one and bowed deeply. "For hospitality and counsel, I express my deepest gratitude to King Thranduil's distinguished advisor, Soronume, and his daughter, Elluin, the infrequent but treasured companion of my youth." The two Elves diplomatically echoed the Dwarves' response.
Droin turned to the Silvans gathered before him. "I also wish to thank the noble people of Greenwood for the welcome we have received. The cordiality and generosity of Thranduil's folk will not be soon forgotten." The Elves raised their goblets, decidedly uncomfortable with bowing to a foreign king. The Dwarf thankfully seemed satisfied. He resumed in a more celebratory tone. "I lament that we are unable at this time to repay Greenwood's fine hospitality as we should like. However, as the accursed Unseen Army left the baggage of our entire company unmolested, I wish to present a part of it now, so kindly retrieved for us by Elf-soldiers as we tarried here at the palace in peace, as a token of our thanks."
On cue, captain Telior and the soldier Rosganar stepped forward, carrying between them a large barrel that they set carefully on the high table before they bowed and withdrew. It was labeled in a script that Thranduil did not recognize, and he looked at Droin with questioning eyes.
"This, my esteemed King Thranduil, is a barrel of wine that the Dwarf clans in the east, with whom we have occasional dealings, sometimes receive in trade with the Men that live close to the Sea of Rhun. The region is called Dorwinion, and the clime and soil, it is said, lend this brew a particular excellence. It is my hope that you will accept this small gesture of gratitude, and let our mutual enjoyment of it cement our continued alliance."
Thranduil hid his skepticism about the quality of the vintage and gave the Dwarf a slight smile as he inclined his head. "The gesture is much appreciated, King Droin," he answered formally.
Droin nodded to the Elvenking in response and turned back to the crowd. "By all our strengths, we have overcome the evil that sought to overtake us, and we are all the stronger for it. Though we carry the memory of those who were lost with us always, we now look to a better future, enriched by new friendships. Let us celebrate! I bid the musicians play and young feet dance!"
The Silvans needed no further encouragement to resume their feasting. The Dwarves seemed equally enthusiastic, tapping their feet under the table as they ate. Some even joined the dancing later in the evening, though the Elves made sure to leave space enough to protect their toes from the Dwarves' heavy boots. Most of the Silvans did not speak the Common Tongue well enough to communicate with them, but Galion had ensured that each one had a servant nearby who was proficient enough to translate if any were inclined to attempt conversation.
Thranduil and Droin had been speaking amiably to each other throughout the feast, finding that armor, weapons, and Orc-hunting were easy topics to maintain in conversation. They looked in satisfaction at the crowd that was becoming more jovial by the moment, spurred by the wine and music.
"Now, what do you say, Elf-king?" Droin said after a lull in their talking. "Shall you try the Dorwinion wine?"
"Very well," Thranduil said graciously, waving for Galion to serve them. The steward kept his face blank, tapping the barrel and filling two fine goblets.
By now, mistrust between the two kings had dissipated, but Thranduil remained unsure of how humans could make a wine to surpass that of the Elves. Nevertheless, he held up his glass in echo of Droin's movement and took a timid sip.
Thranduil's eyes widened, taking another sip as if to confirm what he had experienced, and Droin's bearded face scrunched into a smile. In an uncharacteristic move, the Elvenking suddenly grasped the Dwarf's shoulder. "King Droin, whatever hospitality we have shown, it pales in comparison to this wine."
Droin laughed heartily as Thranduil continued sipping, the wonder unmistakable in the Elf's eyes. "I knew you would find it pleasing," Droin said.
"You have made a grave mistake in not presenting this to me sooner," Thranduil said seriously.
"What do you mean?" Droin asked uneasily.
"If you had offered Dorwinion wine in our negotiations earlier, you would have received anything you wanted and more," the Elvenking replied. He finally withdrew his hand from the Dwarf's shoulder as Droin's roaring laugh carried over the sound of their peoples' merrymaking.
* Adapted from William Wordsworth's poem "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," also known as "Daffodils."
** Inspired by Thorin's speech to the assembled company in Bag End in The Hobbit.