In the pre-dawn stillness where even the leaves of the mighty Mallorns lay in sleep, Galadriel watched events pertaining to dwarves unfolding. She felt him, but didn't divert her gaze from the fascinating waters. "Thorin is up and getting his dwarves ready to leave in the cold of night."
"Are you going to warm their way?" Celeborn inquired, still half asleep, but felt her leave his side and chose closeness to her over a comfortable, warm bed.
"Yes. They need to stay near the rivers and I'll melt the ice." The waters morphed into another scene.
Celeborn was at her side instantly, hands on her waist when her fëa cried the alarm. "Tell me."
"I saw the figure in a cloak of my making. How came he by my handiwork and what befell the recipient? It was as Elrond told me our daeriôns also saw. He is riding on a black horse south along the Orocarni with many Easterlings. I fear Thorin and his clan may encounter them."
Celeborn peaked into the waters and risked being pulled into its mesmerizing hold. He too saw the riders and speed in which they covered ground, pushing their mounts to exhaustion. Something was nefariously familiar about the one in the grey mantle. The cloak covered a black robe, but the rest was shrouded in a haze, as if the Valar didn't wish his identity known, but warning them something evil was indeed lurking. Something caught Celeborn's eye on another horse and it was the missing dwarrowdam. His quick mind deduced it was literal and metaphorical conflated into one dire warning.
Cold permeated the mirror and Celeborn felt shivering and wrapped her in warm arms. In the mirror was a large fire and it was night and several men were abusing the dwarf, who was screaming in pain. After the last finished, she was hoisted, naked over the fire and her innards spilled into the flames. The fire welcomed its sacrifice with flaming leaps of joy. And then darkness engulfed the mirror and Galadriel gave a ragged cry of relief.
"Why are you shown this?" he raged at the Valar with each word.
"She is Lord Skafid's wife and if the Valar don't intercede that will be her fate. The mirror showed a raid a few days ago and she was taken. That is why Skafid left the halls of Jötunheim without leave of Thorin. I'm sure he didn't wish to worry Lord Dóvad that he wasn't in control of his kingdom so let it be that a dwarrowdam was kidnaped. It wouldn't be a good showing in front of Thorin and they think he is the king, as does Lord Fárin, so we must keep the counsel of the dwarves. It could be these foul men are drawing power from Sauron by killing the higher ranking among dwarves, men and elves. We must tell Mithrandir so he can spread the word. I fear darkness is once again upon our lands."
Celeborn squeezed painfully. "Was that what they wanted with our daughter? Has your mirror given you an answer yet?"
His insightful question ripped the answer from her taught throat. Tears dripped onto his hands and she clutched his that were pressed against her stomach, long nails leaving marks just short of breaking the skin. "Yes, oh yes, but the image is too painful to share and I refuse to put me or you through it again. They were going to sacrifice the wife of Elrond first, for Sauron's power would then be able to overcome me in my weakened state of grief. The Valar maneuvered events so the orcs intercepted her as an act of kindness to us. Had she reached us intact, Sauron would have eventually sent his Nazgûl and she would have died over a fire and his power would override mine. We got lucky, but others won't fare so well."
"Our child butchered is hardly luck," he snarled. "How long have you held this from me?" His voice was the hardest she ever heard and she was sure a hint of hatred flashed at her.
"Not long. I didn't tell you everything the night I passed out and hit my head on this adamant stone." As she spoke, a hand pried itself off his and caressed the edge of her mirror, almost lovingly. "I used Arwen's death as an excuse to draw you from peering too deeply and seeing something that never was. The Valar are preparing me. They are searing my fëa so I won't fade or flee."
"I want to see what our daughter suffered," he demanded in a tone that would have had his March Wardens leaping and running to do his bidding.
"You saw what it did to me. They only gave a few flashes of her torment, and after so many years it was still a stab through my heart."
"Is Arwen to suffer her fate?" He had to know.
"I don't know. If what I saw was correct, no, they won't get her and she dies here under the Mallorns she loves, but we won't give them a chance."
"You're understating events. She will be under my protection from now on," Celeborn vowed.
"You clip her wings and she will flee here. No, meleth-nín, all will be as now. I will keep her safe within these lands, but there will come a time she will return to Elrond. He will be able to protect her as well."
"Are they only taking females?" He had to know if his beloved daeriôns would suffer such attempts on them.
"King Thráin survived, but I'm sure his days were numbered. Fate intervened for it was not his time. I fear any dwarrowlass chosen for Thorin will be targeted by Sauron. No, they will take anyone, but high ranking females give Sauron the most power."
"Is there danger he could take you?" Celeborn had to know. He would fight and die to save her.
"Where life lives, risk is its companion."
"Will he come here to try?"
"He will attack when the time is his. He is building in armies and power. We need the ring destroyed. We need to find Gollum."
"What do you wish of me, hervess- nín?" His hands grew gentler and stroked her bare arms.
She turned into him. "You will have to insure Lord Fárin survives Thranduil. He also is taking a valuable lass to Erebor."
"Let me guess, Thorin's One?"
"Maybe."
Late afternoon the day after the twins invaded Círdan's palace, plans were roughly laid out on parchment, with all local lords attending the hasty meeting the lord called. With Círdan leaving the Haven's much activity would ensue. He never traveled light and now was amassing a small army of volunteers to take wagons of food. The supplies his elves would use would be packed in separate wagons to keep the two groups at peace.
A messenger arrived to the patio they were using and bowed before his lord. "Our scouts spotted a group of dwarves riding ponies east of here twenty miles. They are headed south."
"That would be the hunting party," Elladan volunteered. "We told them to go where the game hasn't been thinned in decades."
"We would wish to join them," Elrohir added. "With our bows, they would have all they need in a couple hours. We of course would leave the tending of meat to them."
"You sound suspiciously like Glorfindel," Círdan replied acerbically. "How long will it take them to dry the meat to jerky? Do they use our methods?"
"They were eating old jerky from the mountain and we did also. Their preserving methods rival ours. If we take horses, we can pack the animals back to their halls," Elladan reasoned, looking expectantly at Círdan.
The elf lord smiled. He had witnessed those two working their father with the same pleading expressions while verbalizing their cause, which usually involved hunting, fishing or just being outdoors.
"I think that is a great idea." He held his hand up before they could run out on him. "I'm making an adjustment. Bring the meat here and we will process it for them. I know they will be in a panic when we explain our plans of moving all at once." He looked at his trusted seneschal. "Taíban, I'm placing you in charge and am secure in knowing my wishes are carried out."
Taíban stood and with hand over his heart gave a slight bow and motioned for Elrond's sons to accompany him.
Fállon looked longingly after them, but knew his place was in the Havens. He refocused when Círdan addressed him next, as if knowing he wished an adventure with the twins.
"I am placing you in charge of overseeing the boats for those who lost loved ones in the last battle. Elrond sent the numbers from his realm as did Thranduil and Celeborn. We need two boats for Thranduil's elves, one for Elrond's and one for Celeborn's. All are almost done, but you will oversee the stocking and items of comfort."
"Of course, my lord." Inside, Fállon was singing, for it was the first time he was trusted with overseeing this task.
"I'm riding to Thorin's Halls and speaking with the lords myself," Círdan announced as his last order of business. "I'll leave immediately. Galdor, you're in charge. Amáphon, you're with me. Gather twelve warriors."
The meeting dissolved and each hurried to assigned tasks that would begin on the morrow.
Fárin walked the parameter of the encampment, insuring with his own eyes all was secure for the night. He pulled his service wagons of forty stout oaken freighters into a tight circle and tarps stretched on both sided so the dwarves could crowd together for warmth and security. Dwarflings played in the center as food was prepared. To them it was a great adventure, but so far the weather was mild. He knew when rains logged their clothes; shouts of laughter would turn to wails of discomfort.
All in order, he crawled under a wagon next to his son and was soon slumbering.
Hundreds of miles to the east, Thorin's party was likewise settling in for their first night of many on the frozen ground. He led the procession from Jötunheim with Dwalin at his side and his other lords rode in the order they arrived.
He had a moment of playfulness with Dwalin, when he leaned over and whispered, "Yer leading us to Erebor?"
At Thorin's puzzled look, Dwalin continued, "My silence of you getting lost in the Shire can be purchased."
All those waiting to get on the road saw the king knock Dwalin off his feet and the downed Durin howling in laughter and Thorin just as swiftly offering his hand and pulling him back up and drawing Orcrist in mock sport of killing the laughing lord. The others in the Company gathered close and soon all were laughing, so it was a merry troupe that danced their ponies down the trail in the lead.
Wagons were scarce and he made the decision to let young dwarflings, pregnant dams and the very old ride. Everyone else was on foot, except his party and the warriors who rode point and aft and were spread along each side of the long caravan. The warriors from Jötunheim rode rams and boars; stock animals of the Blacklocks, and many dwarflings first glimpse of a pony were the ones Thorin mustered from Dáin's small herd. It was the Longbeards who preferred small, fiery spirited ponies.
Thorin stopped by Dóvad's campfire, made from the plentiful wood in the forest they were traversing to the plains. "Have the lads gather all the wood traps under the wagon can carry."
He hadn't disclosed his route plans to anyone outside his Company, so Dóvad asked, "Have ye selected the way?" His family and several Longbeards pestered him all day and he told them he would find out.
"We will take the longer route along the rivers. There is privacy for the dams, water and scraps of wood for fires. Also, animals will be coming to drink." Thorin lifted his face to catch the sun. "Feel the air?"
At Dóvad's nod, he continued, "A strange warm spring is upon us and the days will be warm and waters melting."
"And harder on the wagons as they will bog in the thawing ground," Dóvad grumbled.
"Most likely," Thorin agreed and looked casually around the area.
Risári called out, "Have you eaten, King Thorin?"
He glanced their fare over once more, mouth watering. "No, I have rations with the Company, but thank you."
"You aren't telling me you are eating jerky while I have a pot of stew with enough to feed your lords. Now I'm not telling the king what to do, but if you bring them here, I'll make sure their bellies aren't rumbling by three in the morning."
He smiled at her persistence. "I will tell them."
"Hhrrrmmmppp," she snorted as he walked away muttering loudly. "He might be a royal, but I won't have it getting back to the other Durin dams that he went hungry around me."
"Ye kept him well fed at the mountain," Dóvad reminded her and straightened when Dwalin, Bofur, Bifur, Nori and Óin moved into their space with lively steps.
"Thorin said you would feed us," Bofur stated and eyeballed the stew and bread like a starving dwarf.
"Make a deal with you lords," Risári stated. After several meals at her table, she felt comfortable enough around them to speak her mind. "You find fresh meat and I'll keep this pot full."
They looked at each other with grins.
Dwalin spoke for them. "You have a deal. Just don't expect Thorin to join you often. He feels the need to punish himself for imaginary offenses of failing to kill ah dragon while ah dwarfling."
"And if I happen to send you his way with a large bowl of stew, will he eat?" Risári asked while Lári scooped bowls full and handed them out.
"I reckon," Dwalin answered and took a bite. "He doesn't wish to be a bother to anyone."
They sat on the ground and silence fell while hungry dwarves dug in.
Lári looked around. "Where is that lass? I swear she is useless to me."
"She tailed her brother when he got the lot of guard duty," Dóvad answered. "She thinks she can do whatever he can."
"Well, she can wash these dishes in the stream. That's what she can do," Lári snapped, peeved the girl was always dreaming instead of learning the ways of the dams.
Thorin walked the length of the dwarven camp, nodding to those who waved, but not stopping to chat. Idle talking wasn't his style, as his father before him. It wasn't long before he was formulating a plan for the dwarves to be more efficient and use less wood. Lost in thought, he almost didn't see the slight form of a dwarf scooting in his direction. "Halt," he ordered. The dwarf stopped and he approached, wondering who was careless enough to leave the safety of the camp. Moonlight revealed the dwarf. "What are you doing away from your family?"
"I wanted to see what the guards were doing. I can work and earn my way," Lióni insisted.
"I have all the guards I need among the dwarrow." He fell in step with her and she slowed her steps, desire of not having her mother mad she ran off on their first night replaced with a desire this king would see her as more than a young lass he was once again escorting to her parents. This time he didn't talk to her and the humiliating way her father treated her in front of him made her cheeks burn. She was grateful for darkness.
Thorin saw his lords took his advice and were sopping the bottoms of their bowls with bread when he stalked into their midst.
Lióni immediately skirted her parents and grabbed a bowl.
"Do I have to ask why you are once again being escorted by the king?" Dóvad queried.
"Offer the bowl to the king, lass," her mother ordered. "I swear you make it look like your father and I never taught you an ounce of manners."
Lióni's spine stiffened at the rebuke from one and question from the other. "King Thorin, I was getting this for you, unlike what my parents think." She held the bowl out with her head held high.
Thorin looked at his Company and their quietly shaking shoulders, trying not to break out laughing. He took the bowl and bread and sat. "Dwalin, take first watch, Bofur second and Nori third. I've already instructed all guards report any issues in the night to you." He stopped issuing instructions and shoved in a mouthful of stew he knew was better than anything they cooked on the trip to reclaim the mountain.
"I will tell you exactly what I told your lords. You would offer grave insult if you took meals anywhere except this campfire," Risári repeated when it was obvious Thorin was done with his dwarrow.
"Then I accept," Thorin graciously agreed, his pride dissolving with each bite, and saw the smile of satisfaction cross the old dwarrowdam's face. He remembered her in his youth, always cheerful and a great asset to the old dwarrowdams of his household. They also relied on a network of close dwarrowdams to know what was going on in the mountain and controlled the female dwarves. He knew his father and grandfather left the dams to them and when his time came, he saw no reason to change the order of things. He lifted his head when a sharp criticism of Lióni started up again.
"Where in the name of Mahal is your beard?" Lári gasped.
"I don't see the big deal. You came here with an entire company of dwarrowdams who fled the mountain without beards. They weren't molested or killed. I'm not wearing it. Mahal made me this way and I shall enjoy my freedom from dusty old traditions."
"Ye are disgracing us in front of the king," Dóvad snarled quietly. "At the mountain we looked the other way, but this disrespect of the king an our ways must cease an now." He had a thought. "And if the king were ta order ye ta wear it?"
All eyes turned to Thorin; the leading family of Jötunheim in despair, and the Company all but openly laughing. He felt like telling them to take it up with the king. He sighed and put his bowl in his lap. "A truce. You can go naked on your cheeks unless we encounter anyone not a dwarf."
Lióni looked at the amused lords of Thorin and him lastly. "Are you expecting to meet another group or those of other races?"
"I would think you would jump at what I just gave you," Thorin snapped and started to feel sorry for her parents. "What I expect or not is none of your concern."
Dóvad felt a chill in his spine and looked at the king closely, looking for rumors he himself squashed about ill-fated trips and mad kings of Durin. "Take his offer, lass. If ye are done, wash the dishes."
Fræg noticed by end of the first day he was constantly in the vicinity of one of the King's soldiers. They were watching him he was certain. He made the decision; in the middle of the night he would slip from camp and return to Jötunheim. His reasoning was Thorin wouldn't return and make his family pay for his indiscretion.
He made his bed under the tongue of a wagon that most dwarves avoided due to its lack of protection, although he threw a small tarp over it, mainly to hide his movements. As the camp settled into sleep, he waited. On the pretext of checking the travelers for signs of soreness or blisters, he saw where the guards were located.
He watched the moon cross the sky and that weird bright star that moved faster than any normal star. There, the guard stepped in the trees to relieve himself. Scooting from under his tarp, Fræg made a mad dash into the trees, his heart pounding. Feet carried him swiftly from the dwarves and for now he was only looking for a safe place to hole up until daybreak and he could find the trail made by the wagons and follow it home. Deep among the trees, he stopped running because he couldn't force one more breath in. He dropped to the frozen turf and struggled to catch his breath.
The guard assigned to Fræg cursed royally when he peered under the tarp and the lump was rumpled blankets. He turned and ran to Nori, who just started the third and final shift. "My lord, Fræg is gone."
Wide awake now, Nori cursed in Khuzdul, Westron and his newfound language of Sindar, impressing the guard. "Saddle my pony." As the guard left to do his bidding, he went to wake Thorin.
Thorin's eyes snapped open and hand reached for Orcrist at the touch to his shoulder.
"That traitorous slime Fræg has flown the coop. I'll track his carcass down and return him."
"Wait and have the guards get ponies ready." When Nori hurried away, he rose and went to his Company and slapped each on the shoulder, silently rousing them. They chose to camp just off the wagons so they could talk privately and were mostly using Sindarin with the help of a list of words Erestor wrote down for them and basic sentences. Using their new language, he told them the situation.
"We are going with you," Dwalin stated.
"You are, and these two," Thorin pointed to Bifur and Bofur. "Nori and Óin will keep the dwarves moving. It might take a few days to find him and if he made it back to the mountain, we will bring his family under guard and in shackles. I warned him," Thorn ended in a deep growl. "Óin, you are in charge. Take them all the way if you have to."
Óin nodded he heard, trumpet in his ear.
Ponies were brought up and soon the small party rode into the trees in the only direction a dwarf would run, as the icy river was melting and cracked all night and to cross would most likely end in a watery demise. Little did they know their guardian in Lothlórien expended much power and energy to make it happen faster than normal. Now instead of watching over them, she was sleeping soundly and alone, for Celeborn was moving through the night to the Dimrill Stairs with a small band of March Wardens and Gandalf. The wizard was leaving them and upset he couldn't be in all places at once. He felt only he or Saruman had the powers to withstand this man of Sauron and he didn't have time to ride to Isengard.
Morning found Óin with the leaders explaining Thorin said keep moving and he would bring the wayward healer back. Once on the way, Dóvad seeked a private word with Óin. "Should we return ta the mountain an wait for Thorin?"
Óin snorted. "We walked across this land, first as refugees an then when Thorin led us to the mountain. We are going ta Erebor. Thorin will be back within the week; don't ye worry.
Círdan rode to the Refuge of Edhelion and met with Lord Estoras first and the lord accompanied them on foot through the gate separating the two kingdoms. On the side that housed dwarves, preparations covered much of the courtyard and most prominent were the wagons lined for loading. Círdan's unexpected appearance had dwarves ceasing their work and watching the tall elves walk to Thorin's Hall and up the stone steps.
A guard at the door swiftly ran inside the moment the gate between the races opened and elves stepped into their side. It was not surprising to find the elderly lord in his favorite chair by the fire. "Lord Gróin, elves are here."
Gróin jerked awake. "Eh," he held his ear trumpet up.
"Elves," the guard screamed, "out front."
"Get Garad," Gróin ordered just as the elves entered the far end of the large hall. He stiffly rose and waited. "Lord Círdan, this is a surprise. Sit, sit," he motioned with one hand and signed for drink of wine with the other.
Círdan's lips rose in amusement when immediately wine was served and to his surprise, it was smooth and tasty. "I didn't know dwarves made wine of this quality. Why aren't we trading with you for it?"
"It is yours, not ours. This is the wine ye brought us that first trip when we were starving in Dunland. We only use it for special occasions; a wedding of ah Durin or birth. When Fili, Kili and Gimli were born, we toasted to fine Durin's with it." He broke off when he saw Garad enter the outside door and marched swiftly down the hall.
Seeing their missing dwarf lord join them, Círdan terminated his polite conversation and efficiently outlined his plan.
The dwarf lords sat quietly, listening carefully.
Círdan ended with, "The meat processing facilities at the Havens is the best in Middle Earth. We can dry four large cows a day. I sent a few elves with horses to pack game to the Havens and will offer this service even if you reject my offer."
"I remember when we numbered seven thousand and walked the length of the Anduin. We lost about eight souls a week," Gróin replied. "I know not all will make the trip east and I'm not sure I can, but we will try. We've built a thriving community here and I hope your generosity will extend to Thorin's Halls after the majority has left….." At Círdan's nod he continued, "It can be done and if you will assist and come to Erebor, I assure you as my word of a Durin, you will return home much richer."
"The wine? I am most anxious to procure the wine promised to Elrond, Thranduil and Celeborn."
Gróin and Garad heartily laughed. "The letters the lads carried back gave hint that it makes this fine vintage drink like curded milk." He looked at Garad. "Well, do ye think we should take all at once?"
"Yes." Garad didn't hesitate.
"We will leave in one month. Will you be ready and what can the elves assist you with?" Círdan asked.
"Ye saw all the wagons. We need horses an not ponies ta pull them."
"Done."
"Ye have the food we need under control. I will need ta do a trial load of our elderly an young. If we can get them in the wagons, we will be ready. If not and need more, can ye spare any?"
"I may be able to scrounge a few, but if you go to the Shire, I'm sure they will sell you something more in your size."
Gróin nodded. "I wish I hadn't sent the lads hunting. They made a friend in the Shire who will help."
"Ahh, that would be one Bilbo Baggins. The twins told me all about him." Círdan rose, "I would like to see your wagons if I may?"
Garad jumped to his feet, "Aye, this way, my lords. Ye will have ta excuse Gróin. He rarely goes down the steps these days."
Celeborn escorted Gandalf to the Dimrill Stairs and they did talk.
"You will watch for this wizard or mysterious person?" Gandalf asked for the third time.
"Only if you cease asking," Celeborn teased.
"Elves," was the grumbling reply. "I'll see you when my wandering feet cross your path again and the stars will shine brightly for us."
"I'm Sindar. Save your inanities for the Ñoldor and their strange customs."
With a laugh, Gandalf mentally told his stallion of the Riddermark to make haste.
Celeborn watched his friend ride up the steps and turned back to Legolas, who rode with him and a handful of Galadhrim. "Have you chosen your path?"
Legolas nodded, "I will ride south to avoid the dwarves. I don't trust myself around the vermin."
Celeborn nodded in approval as he led the way across the open moors to the trees.
"Just as well. Galadriel has a soft spot for the vermin and she will insist food be place for them. I will send you to King Fengel with letters and instructions."