"I can't even give my son ah hug," Thráin lamented and gripped Thorin's hand briefly. Too weak to walk, Erestor carried him from the Healing Halls; his father at his side. Thorin tried to tell him a little of his trip until Thráin halted him, "We will have time when ye get better an return. Save yer strength."
They watched Gandalf bustle around the big birds issuing instructions and asking Landroval to pass on his messages to the council of Eagles at the Eyrie on top of crags over sheer cliffs nothing without wings could scale. "Send your son, Valtron, honorable Landroval. I only trust the safe delivery of Prince Thorin to you and Gwaihir. Valtron will make you proud leading Great Eagles to assist the dwarves."
"Lord Manwë sent the Valar Oromë to us at the Eyrie. He did not say which Maia turned, but ordered the dwarves assisted because Erebor is needed," Gwaihir responded.
Gandalf's shoulders drooped in sorrow at a friend who turned. "It is as I feared. We will be vigilant, my friend. Fly safe." He stepped back as Erestor parted the dwarves; armor in place and Thorin in his arms. He handed his package to Gandalf and bounded with elven dexterity to the back of Gwaihir and reached for Thorin.
The leading citizens of Erebor ran up the steps to the rampart while Gandalf lay bags before the feet of Landroval to scoop up before he left. He stepped out of the reach of the wings so not to be knocked off his feet and watched his old friends take flight. He hurried to the rampart to stand behind the shorter dwarves.
In sorrow his son bore the brunt of an evil wizard, Thráin watched the eagles flap their long wings and lift into the evening sky. Thorin was wrapped in a fur blanket of black mink that draped over Erestor's legs, keeping him warm on the long night flight. They didn't waiver their stance or gaze until the specks disappeared against the setting sun of burnt orange that pained eyes that were accustomed to life underground.
Thráin sighed and addressed Dáin. "Bring Lord Fræg an let's move this party ta the throne."
Dáin bowed his head in respect and hurried off the rampart and issued the order to General Lötun.
"I would like to be present, King Thráin," Gandalf requested. He was never at the mountain when Thrór ruled under the Arkenstone, but he heard rumors….strange, strange rumors.
"Ye wish ta see ah ruler in action?" Thráin jested and led the way down the steps with Balin taking up post on his right and Gandalf towering at his left. Done with giving commands, Dáin walked three steps ahead, Warhammer in his right hand and left resting on the hilt of his sword.
"It would be most interesting. After all, I've never seen you on the throne. I want to see if you are half the dwarf your father was," Gandalf jokingly replied with a benign smile.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Thráin moved them into the throne area and let his eyes center fractionally above the seat before being mesmerized by the Arkenstone, now reset in the repaired chair. He sat down and let Balin take his right and Dáin his left in Thorin's place. The other's spread to each side of the throne and it was an impressive display of royal power that greeted Fræg when he appeared at the far end of the catwalk.
He felt his doom looming with each reluctant step, but the point of a sword in the middle of his spine kept his booted feet moving in pace of his captors. His eyes were focused; focused that is on the shining stone that danced with a mélange of mesmerizing colors, all seeming to grab his attention at once and he could stare at it for hours. He forced his eyes down and the apparition of King Thráin was now seated on the throne; his countenance enigmatic. He saw neither welcome nor hostility, just that same expression he first saw and a hand on his shoulder stopped him on the platform below the raised dais. He bowed low, straightened and waited.
"You spread lies about me, Lord Fræg. How did you come to the conclusion I was the king in charge of Dol Guldur?" While officiating from the throne, Thráin honored the tradition of his fathers and never allowed the argot their race preferred to disrespect the call of Durin's to rise above the proletariat.
Fræg braved a look down the line of Durin's Folk and decided the king was his closest ally of the group by the angry expressions on the rest. Swallowing a large lump, he looked the king in his one eye. Speaking formally, he answered. "My lord, I did as you charge, but not out of malice to you or any Durin. I reported what I saw in the portents."
"What do you use to achieve your readings?" Balin asked, although the Durin's knew. The pouch Nori pilfered from Fræg's healing ward was given to Gandalf by Óin who guessed, and now was being examined by the healers in the Mountain.
"I personally observe the stars alignment and when they are right, I gather potent holy basil leaves for a tea and toss tincal onto the fire and watch the flames until visions come." He knew that was standard dwarven portent reading for healers, who doubled as seers. In fact it was the ability to read presages for training to be a healer. All dwarves, male and female were tested at age fifty. Only one in three hundred had the ability and deemed worthy for training in amalgamation of skill and oracle. It had been generations since one of the Durin bloodline tested positive for the skill and healers held a place of honor among the clans.
"And you don't add peyot root to your tea?" Dáin silkily inquired; remembering all Durin's were required to use formal speech while at the throne.
Fræg's face lost all color. "That is banned for healers when reading portents."
"And do you know why?" Thráin asked.
"All healers are taught the history of what happened when it was commonly used." He stopped short of giving the lesson, knowing Óin or a healer wasn't present to spell it out. He didn't presume Durin's were taught dwarven healing history. He was wrong.
A healer hurried from a side door, rushed to the throne and stood several feet from Fræg.
Thráin's eye shifted. "Report."
"It is peyote root. We use it ta put dwarrow in the mood when they are slow ta awaken when chosen ta wed."
Thráin signaled and the reporting healer was quietly told his services were finished by his assigned guard, whose duty was to escort the healer from the Halls of Healing to the throne and back again and wait to be relieved. The healer wasn't allowed to speak with anyone until a Durin came. Thráin didn't want the healer to disclose his part in the trial.
"And if you use too much?" Ori braved a question and hoped Dori didn't hit him in front of everyone.
Fræg looked at the youth and almost laughed at his impudence. He chose not to answer.
Thráin looked at something behind Fræg and the latter fell on his face struggling to catch his breath and was sure ribs were caved in or at the very least bruised. He was hauled to his feet; taking in the stormy eyes of General Lötun and his Warhammer. He was without doubt the General welded the weapon and would once more with dangerous accuracy should he not answer.
"When ah Durin ask ye ah question, it is less painful if ye just answer."
Fræg looked at the line of Durin's until at last settled on the youngster. "Too much causes the mind to see things."
Emboldened, Ori gave his own display of knowledge. "Legend says the seers always used it in the First Age and it was that particular root which gave the dwarves in Nogrod a false sense of ownership over the Nauglamír and enhanced their greed. When Durin the First found out, he had all the healers executed and the substance banned outside a few select uses. That decree stands today. Misuse carries the death penalty."
Thráin took over, secretly pleased with Ori. "Did you take peyot when you had a vision of me?"
Fræg listened to the deceptive tone. It sounded so calm, more like a father talking to a son. In a way it was soothing and he let his eyes travel upwards to the lovely stone that read his heart. His eyes focused on the hypnotizing stone. "I did, but the vision wasn't wrong. I saw everything clearly."
Thráin let the dwarf continue looking at the stone, which was now dancing with mesmerizing strobes of color that danced brighter and more dangerous than the lights in the northern nighttime skies. "How many visions did you have?"
Gandalf's eyes narrowed. He stood to the side where he had an unobstructed view of all parties. It appeared as if Thráin were putting Fræg under an enchantment and the stone was involved. He wondered how long it took most likely Thrór to stumble onto its powers.
"Three," Fræg volunteered and frowned. He hadn't meant to disclose that much.
"Why did you take the root?" Thráin's soft inflection worked and he wanted to smile, but kept his face devoid of expression as his father taught.
"After the survivors returned on foot, half-starved an rambling wildly of Shriekers who claimed those they took were ta be presented ta the king of Dol Guldur who was a dwarf. I took the root in an attempt ta put ah face ta the dwarven king of Dol Guldur."
"Did you actually see me in your altered state?" Thráin struggled to keep his tone neutral and hypnotic.
Fræg struggled with his exact memories. "I think so," he honestly admitted. "I had ta give the lords an answer an used yer name ta cover my lack of foreknowledge in the matter. Never had I dealt with evil forces an I panicked." He kept his eyes on the ever changing stone and its opalescent shine.
"I have many dwarves wanting me dead and you are GOING to convince them I am the innocent victim of your twisted imagination," Thráin abruptly decreed, ending the interrogation and trial. "You are hereby sentenced to the dungeon. You will be brought out during the day for two hours to mingle, and I suggest you greet everyone in the mountain and everyone coming to the mountain and set the record straight. If the attacks cease for a period of time I have yet to determine, your life will be spared."
"But the dwarfling said the penalty is death? Can't I skip the humiliating confessions and just be put to death? Please, my lord," Fræg pleaded.
"Any attempt to take your own life will result in your family forfeiting theirs as well," Thráin added and motioned for Lötun to remove him.
They watched him led down the long catwalk and Gandalf approached the throne. "Your first official decree from the throne?"
Thráin nodded.
"And how long will you keep him locked up?" Gandalf was curious if he ruled as Thrór would, with a hand of iron.
"For as long as it takes or old age takes either him or me."
Dáin snorted. "If he outlives ye, my Warhammer will personally end his worthless life, one broken bone at ah time."
"Now, Dáin, don't be hasty," Balin objected. "Dwalin would be sore hurt not to do the deed and then there is Thorin Oakenshield who might wish to do the killing."
"We'll have ta draw lots," Dáin grumbled.
Thorin was still awake when they took flight and had a rush of excitement at soaring with the birds again. They were still floating low above Dale where the people gathered to watch them leave. He saw Bard and waved and the new king returned with his own salute. "It was hospitable of you to crown him king before we left on our eastward trek."
"I've been part of several ceremonies among men as they live so briefly," Erestor retorted. "I live for the day the king is placed on the throne of Gondor again. We never missed a coronation until the kingdom split and then only traveled to the northern kingdom. Elrond never really considered the southern kingdom legitimate." He pointed, "We are nearing the lake."
Thorin twisted his head to look down. "It takes days on foot. I wish it was daylight so I could see Mirkwood when we fly over it."
"You aren't missing much. We are stopping at the Eagle Eyrie and won't leave until daylight. The birds will rest and Gwaihir will select those assigned to help Mithrandir. He hates leaving Dwalin and Óin defenseless should an army or the wizard attack them."
"There were men at the Prancing Pony in Bree coming to collect the bounty on my head when Gandalf sat at my table. The trip to reclaim the mountain with him proved just how handy a wizard can be." As he talked, Thorin reveled in the setting sun and warm orange and pink bands that grew ever smaller.
"You missed my partial story of how Mithrandir came to these lands," Erestor replied. "Maybe someday unfolding events won't interfere with my telling the story in its entirety."
They flew in silence watching the landscape darken when Thorin had a thought. "Can these guys see in the dark?"
Erestor smiled down at the mass of unruly black hair. "Yes, they are special birds, created by the Valar to serve them. The Valar are not omniscient and rely on a host of servants. Mithrandir was such a servant and still is, just in a different capacity for now." He looked down in the almost faded light. "We are flying over Thranduil's halls soon." He pointed down with his right hand.
Thorin caught the flash of Erestor's ring in the last embers of sun and he had to refocus where the elf was pointing. He saw pinpoint lights he knew had to be torches and they resembled a community. "How come he has so many lights after dark? What are they?"
"Horse paddocks mostly. They have an open area on top of the hill that is lit. Elves love the night sky best and dancing under the stars." He felt Thorin relax against him and knew sleep once again claimed the prince. He settled in for the long flight and saluted Eärendil when he saw the ship on the horizon to his left.
Elrond, from his office balcony, watched Estel ride his new horse around the corral. He felt her move through the room, although she learned to walk as quietly as an elf. Without taking his eyes off Erak training the boy, he stated, "Have a cup. Figwit just refreshed my pot." He heard pouring.
Gilraen moved to his side and sipped the aromatic brew. "He is growing up so fast."
"Every year we will add to his training until age eighteen he will be ready to take his place as a Dúnedain warrior." Elrond paused and looked down at her. "I'm leading the dwarves over the mountains to Erebor. With the large numbers, I feel Estel would be safe and I would like to take him. You're also invited," he hastily added.
"Of course I'll go. I fretted the three days he, Glorfindel and Erak were gone a few days ago." She had a morbid thought and her hands shook slightly and tried to recover before Elrond noticed. He did, but waited. "There won't be another war?"
"Outside this hidden valley, there are no guarantees,…..but you know that," he replied gently.
"A hard lesson we have both learned," she agreed.
Elrond stiffened. "I sense Gwaihir and Landroval approaching fast." Silently, he called, 'Glorfindel, we have Great Eagle company. They just entered my realm.'
'On my way,' Glorfindel responded and dropped the annoying pen on Erestor's desk atop a cluttered mess he managed to create. Not caring the pen dripped ink that spread into a tiny puddle; he hurried to greet the eagles.
Elrond joined him on the landing; one of the few spacious areas the eagles could land. As they topped the ridge and made their descent, Elrond moaned in frustration, "Erestor has too soft a heart. I bet that is a dwarf who had a mining accident."
Glorfindel laughed, "Or Thorin Oakenshield." His keen eyesight immediately placed the drooping head under a thick fur hide.
"What?" Elrond's head whipped to his golden haired friend and back. He looked carefully as the talon's stretched out to land.
No sooner had Gwaihir halted; Erestor alighted, Thorin in his arms. "He took a turn for the worse when we flew over the mountains." Erestor started for the healing halls as he talked.
Elrond gave a hasty bow to the Great Eagles and called after Erestor, "Have Elberion start and I'll be there shortly." He watched Erestor nod without stopping or turning back. Elrond addressed the waiting eagles. "How did the Great Eagles become entrenched in a battle of powers unseen?"
"Lord Manwë sent us," Landroval stated and stopped.
Elrond knew the Eagles spoke little in the Sindar tongue. "I need to send a letter to King Thráin on Thorin's condition as soon as I know anything. There is sheep on the mountain above us. Can I get you to come back later?" He prayed they didn't have to be elsewhere.
"We come," Gwaihir agreed.
Elrond stepped back to give them room to flap and saw Glorfindel's warriors, Estel, his mother and Erak watching with interest. While he was talking, he watched Glorfindel take two bags Landroval dropped.
Without stopping to satisfy curiosity, Elrond loped effortlessly up the long steps, navy colored robes floating as if trying to keep up.
"What happened?" Elrond asked, announcing he was in the room. He saw they had Thorin stripped to his woolen long underwear and even the socks were removed. Elberion was cleaning long gashes that looked to be freshly caked with scabs.
"You were part of it," Erestor answered as if Elrond should already know.
Elrond picked up an excoriating brush. "Keep him asleep, Elberion." All watched as the assistant positioned himself at Thorin's head and placed a hand over his forehead. A light glow emanated downward, but left the rest of his hand unaffected.
Glorfindel entered with his customary smile and wrapped Erestor in a tight hug. "You needn't have hurried back. I would have cleaned your desk, but now….," he trailed off with a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.
"I'm sure you are pulling my leg." Erestor returned the hug and then remembered he was reporting and turned back to watch Elrond meticulously remove the scabs and scrub incisions and dead burned skin. "Mithrandir flew from the top of the pass eastward until he found the party of dwarves after the attack. It took several days and allowed infection to set in. The dwarves were not prepared for this type of injury and Óin pulled Mithrandir aside and said he understood if he couldn't make it here in time."
"And why isn't he the one standing before me?" Elrond asked as he used his free hand that glowed trying to stop the flow of blood now pouring from the cuts and seeping through damaged skin. "Another pale of soapy water," he called out. Almost before he got the order issued, a younger healer slipped one bowl off the table and replaced it with warm, clean water and took the bowl with ugly brownish liquid away.
"He is most likely on his way back to Dwalin and Óin. He felt due to their proximity of evil, he was needed to guide them." Are you done with me, Elrond?"
Elrond didn't look up, "Yes, you can rest."
As he left, he saw Glorfindel pick up Thorin's injured foot and examine the scar and heard him say to Elrond, "You need to reduce this scar."
"Why don't you make yourself useful and help me," Elrond snapped.
Erestor shut the door with a smile. "It was good to be home and all was right in his world again.
"Erestor," he turned and caught the boy who jumped on him. "Can I have a ride on the eagles?"
Erestor saw Gilraen approaching more sedately and as he hugged Estel, he gave her a questioning look. When she nodded, he answered. "I will ask if they can take us for a short ride when they return." He sat Estel down and noticed the boy was taller.
Elrond looked at the much improved chest. "I predict a full recovery without scars. He was delivered in time."
"I'm sure his father would like to hear the good news." Glorfindel reminded him much time had passed.
Elrond looked around for Erestor. Absorbed in healing every inch of the dwarf's burned area, he quite forgot his house seneschal was on the flight of eagles and reported. "Is Erestor leaving with Gwaihir?"
Figwit, who remained in the background, stepped forward. "No my lord; he said his office would not be defiled by Glorfindel again."
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "I'll go mollify our cantankerous friend if you wish time to write a letter."
Elrond shook his head in disgust. "Are you reading my thoughts again?"
"Yeeeesssss," Glorfindel sang as he departed and missed the smile that followed.
Erestor harrumphed for the tenth time as he rearranged yet another pile of records.
"I was going to straighten the papers," Glorfindel stated as he threw the door open and a gust of wind from the draft in the hall caused Erestor to grab papers attempting to fly.
"Before or after we all sail?" was the mordant response. "And to think I brought you a gift." He reached into his bag and tossed a wineskin to his friend. On the guise of cleaning the ink off an important report, he covertly watched the warrior.
Glorfindel tipped the skin up and filled his mouth with ruby red wine. He abruptly stopped and held the wineskin like a newborn elfling. Taste buds and saliva told his brain he hadn't had anything this fine since Aman.
Erestor looked at him in amusement. "What? Is the wine poisoned?" He poured a liberal amount in an actual wine goblet and took a large gulp. Glorfindel jerked the glass out of his hand and went all interrogator on his friend. "How did you come by Aman nectar? And more importantly how did you rate something that would grace the table of the Valar?"
Erestor smirked in satisfaction. "It pays to know dwarves in high places. That is payment for my tutoring skills."
"Your skills don't rate this quality," Glorfindel got out before savoring another sip; this one not hastily gulped, but eyes closed in delight.
"Your laziness doesn't rate this wine, but I couldn't help taunting with something I've enjoyed for over a month on a daily basis." It was true, after a fashion. Erestor wasn't Glorfindel and didn't indulge the expensive and rare wine; just allowing one bedtime glass.
Glorfindel eyed the skin. "I think we should save this for Elrond and maybe set a small amount aside for Celeborn. He might as well taste what his wife left behind."
Erestor sat at his desk and grinned openly. "Just when I think you have no redeeming qualities; you surprise me. How about we place it in a secure place for the next time we get a visit from Lothlórien?"
Glorfindel drained the glass and handed the skin to Erestor. "Get this out of my sight; for my generosity has a few minute expiration date."
Erestor laughed as he took it to his personal cupboard. "I promised Estel to try and convince an eagle to give him a ride."
Glorfindel laughed. "Somehow after giving many of Elros Tar-Minyatur's descendant's rides, Gwaihir will not be surprised." As they walked down the steps from the area Elrond set aside for personal offices, Glorfindel again showed his true nature. "I know you don't wish to go up so soon after holding Thorin that many hours, so I will assist young Estel."
"Sometimes I wonder who the biggest child is, and you needn't hide behind a child for an excuse to soar on the wind." He slipped naturally into his chastising mode.
Glorfindel lit from within and laughed. "It is good to have you home. It has been quite dull with you and the twins gone."