Thorin choked on a sharp rebuke when the lass, Arli, forgot her place and grabbed his arm. He didn't bother explaining this wasn't a courtship walk; just a stroll along rivers edge to pass the time until the other group arrived. This was the third day in a row she was pressed into his company and him answering multitude questions about his kin. That she was prompted to ask by her family never entered his head. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her parents and the old lord Hepti beaming as they followed at a discrete distance.
"Your father is alive?" she uttered a rhetorical question. "You must be so happy…., although that means you are no longer king."
Thorin's molars ground together as she prattled on not letting go of the arm now held captive and he gave a silent prayer to Mahal that his father didn't choose this one for him. He was also glad Dwalin wasn't present, sparing him endless teasing. He wished the caravan from the Blue Mountains would magically appear and he could shunt this child in the lads direction for practice in dealing with insipid lasses.
"My feelings and thoughts are none of your business," he finally snapped in irritation. He shook her hands off his elbow and spun on his heels. Stomping booted feet to Hepti, he snarled, "Keep your granddaughter far from me."
Hepti, not put off; for many dwarrow started this way, smiled. "The lass will grow on ye. She just wants ta please yer highness an is eager. Ye can see with yer own eyes she will provide many sons for the Durin line ta continue."
He growled in his deep tone. "If I have my way, the line will continue through Dáin Ironfoot and his son." He hurried from their presence and angled towards the elves; the one group the dwarves gave a wide berth.
Erestor handed him a flask. "Wine I'm afraid is all I have to offer."
Thorin upended it and took a long swig. "I like wine. It's this eternal waiting I'm having issues with."
"I sent the twins back a few miles to see where the caravan is. I figure in two days they will arrive. They also cannot sit still and their idle hands create too much mischief; like the wine incident."
Thorin grinned, irritation subsiding. "I don't have patience with simple lasses. My father is wrong this time. These choices are too young. Fili and Kili should be pursuing them."
"Your father is king. You remember what it was like to have your commands fulfilled."
Thorin blew air from puffed cheeks in disgust. "I see a distinct lesser regard for a prince. Hepti doesn't take me seriously. Every day he schemes to thrust me and that vapid prattler he dotes on to be together."
"Maybe you need me to chaperone," Erestor offered. "I've thousands of years of experience and the dwarves part for me like I'm carrying the plague."
"I'm sure that is beneath your station, but I may be forced to accept." Thorin vented in disgust. "For over a century I hated all elves; now I find Thranduil to be my only bane. Oh, and that spoiled son of his. He acts too much like his father."
Erestor laughed, "You find that sentiment common among elves also. Lord Círdan has threatened Thranduil many times; for you see, Thranduil, married his great niece."
"Maybe I'll get lucky and watch Lord Círdan put Thranduil in his place." The thought caused him to smile.
Haldir led the caravan over the bridge fording River Running and onto a road running along the east side of Long Lake. Dale and Erebor were hidden from this angle until they reached the end of the lake and started the steep climb.
Three days later, Fengel, being at the head of the line, was first of men to ride onto the plain and he gasped. A town was to their left and straight ahead two of the tallest statues he ever saw; dwarfing a door of iron. He looked at Haldir. "I was beginning to think you were leading us in a circle."
Haldir listened to exclamations of shock and awe as horses and mules pulled heavily loaded wagons onto the plateau. He had orders to stop in Dale, but saw tiny figures on the rampart and knew dwarves would be on hand to meet them when they arrived. He kept an eye on the doors and watched them swing out and several rams carrying dwarves raced to Dale. Haldir led them to a square in the center of town and saw evidence of repairs in all quarters. He pulled up before Bard and the dwarves.
"Welcome to Dale. I am King Bard and this is my chief steward, Lord Theigard. He will direct the unloading, but first let me introduce Lord Balin and Lord Dori of Erebor." He pointed to two dwarves standing proudly beside Theigard.
"Do you have ah list of inventory, laddie?" Balin asked Fengel.
"Since this elf hasn't the decency to introduce me, I'll do so myself. I am King Fengel of Rohan. I personally oversaw delivery of your supplies when details of your great need reached my ears."
Balin crossed his arms and looked at the king with a doubtful expression, but opted not to challenge what he considered an outright lie.
"I have a letter for King Thráin," Haldir stated before anyone else issued an order. "I was instructed to hand it to him personally." He refrained saying who the sender was in public.
Balin swiveled his head to Dori. "Take him to the mountain. I have things here."
Dori jumped on the back of a saddled ram and motioned for Haldir to accompany him.
Bard wasn't sure the next step and looked down to Balin. "What do we do now?"
Fengel snorted in disgust. "You call yourself a king and don't know what to do and have to ask a dwarf?"
Balin smiled back at Bard, "Don't worry, laddie, I'll be here an won't let the king of Rohan swindle you for more than this load is worth. Besides, we are paying for half and my word is as if Thráin spoke."
"And how can a lord claim rights only bestowed upon the sovereign?" Fengel challenged in disbelief. He saw a tattered group of people gathering behind this Bard and wondered at his allowing commoners to press in.
"I am chief advisor to the king," Balin clarified and subtly took over. "I believe I asked for an inventory before we unload. I'm sure your drivers and guards would like this over with so they can see the sites of Dale."
Fengel motioned and Scumper fetched a leather pouch from the saddlebags of his horse and handed it to Fengel. The king untied the string and pulled a handful of papers. He handed them to Balin. "It is sorted by wagon if you want to verify."
"Theigard and I will personally check each wagon as it's unloaded." He looked at Bard. "Permission to place the lot in your large storage building and take our portion to the mountain later?"
Bard nodded and motioned the drivers forward.
Fengel just as swiftly held his hand up to keep them in place. "A little matter of my pay."
"You'll get every coin as soon as your cargo matches this," Balin retorted and held his hand up with the papers firmly in his grasp.
Fengel met his eyes and backed down. He moved his horse out of the way and let the wagons roll past through town lined with eager faces. He looked at stone buildings still in various stages of repair as he followed behind his own pack horses. When he finally rode his horse into a massive stone building the first wagon was being unloaded. To his utter surprise and amazement, it wasn't men doing the work, but a line of dwarves and they were tossing fifty pound bags of grain from one to the other as if tossing a ball. In his seventy two years he never saw a dwarf in action this way. In a few minutes the first wagon was pulled away and the next pointed to where it was to be unloaded. Balin was holding a sheet and counting just as fast as the workers could toss. Fengel didn't notice he had company until Bard spoke.
"Takes getting used to. They may be short, but they are stronger than we are. During the Battle of Five Armies, they could cave the side of an orc with one swing of their Warhammers."
Fengel glanced swiftly to Bard and then back to watch. "This battle? I was briefly told about it in a letter from Lord Celeborn. I would like to hear more."
"We have accommodations for you in my home," Bard offered. "I agreed with King Thráin to keep you here and do a day visit with him before you leave."
Fengel snorted, "I am instructed to stay here until all the blasted dwarves arrive. Lord Celeborn is with King Thranduil as I speak and ordered me thus." He saw Bard give him a surprised look.
"I didn't expect the great lord to come this way again in my lifetime," Bard stated in surprise. "He would only come if there is to be another battle."
"You seem to know a lot about elves," Fengel scoffed.
"I spent several days with them in meetings," Bard replied. "I found Lord Celeborn to be so respected and commanding that when he uttered anything, all elves would stop talking and listen intently to him."
"Naturally his subjects are expected to do so. Hardly the mark of a great leader," Fengel disparaged, still smarting from his encounter.
"Those present were Lord Elrond and his lords and King Thranduil and the wizard Gandalf and several dwarves with their king," Bard explained and smiled slightly at the raised eyebrows.
"Gandalf was there?" He had dealings with the wizard who acted like he was in charge of Middle Earth. If anyone could order Celeborn, it would be that wizard. "I take it Gandalf was in charge?"
"Nobody was in charge. We did meet in King Thranduil's tent and he sat at one end of the table and usually Lord Elrond the other. I did find out that Lord Elrond has the highest unspoken ranking in the third age and Lord Celeborn the highest overall, but they only go by lord and not king. Thranduil is subservient to Celeborn, as are all elves. It was amazing, but nobody claimed dominance."
"You mean that pompous ass, Celeborn, didn't rule the meeting like he does my realm?"
Bard now understood Fengel's issue with Celeborn. "They were in my realm and acted accordingly," he slightly embellished. They switched topics until the last wagon entered a now crowded storehouse.
"We are done," Balin sang out as he scurried across the stone floor to them. He looked at Fengel. "Your accounts are accurate and I sent a messenger to the mountain for our share and also yours, Bard. I hope you don't mind that I snagged Bain to act as your emissary."
Bard issued a slight smile. "He has to learn." He looked at Fengel. "He is my son and heir."
"I have a son and heir who shirked his duty and ran off to Gondor to live with his mother's family," Fengel stated frostily. "He refuses to come and learn under me; preferring to assist the steward of Gondor. He spends much time with Gandalf when he winters in the south and they shirk our language for that of the elves."
"I insist my son learn that language," Bard softly spoke. "He is young enough to absorb it and I sent him to the mountain for lessons when an elf from Rivendell stayed for the winter. He came home nightly and taught his sisters so they can speak a language I cannot." Bard looked around and the last wagon was pulling away. "Come, my lords, I have wine from Thranduil's halls."
"You speak the elven tongue?" Fengel asked the dwarf marching at his side.
Balin smiled up at him, "I learned it a long time ago. I traveled for my king and knowing the languages helped me pass unmolested."
Dori and Haldir rode into the mountain and dismounted. Dori led the way up a flight of stairs and past several guards. He knocked on a heavy wooden door. It opened to a dwarf.
Haldir knew what Thráin looked like and the one who answered wasn't it.
"Picket, is his majesty in?"
"Yes." The dwarf opened the door for them to pass and they stepped into a large office fit for a king and Picket left them alone.
Thráin looked up from his papers as Dori and Haldir approached.
"I have a letter from Lord Celeborn for you," Haldir abruptly stated. He was ill at ease in a mountain full of dwarves and knew his lord didn't trust or allow them inside his borders. He also knew King Thráin was the sole exception.
Thráin reached out his hand across the large desk and received an envelope with Celeborn's stamp. Breaking the seal and holding it closer to the light, he read:
King Thráin,
My lady sends her thanks for the gifts and my granddaughter included a note with mine. It is your generosity that brings me north to Thranduil's lair to wait the arrival of your kin. There will be an attack by Sauron. We believe it will be prior to them reaching your gates. Elrond is escorting them from Imladris with his army. Also, Lord Fárin is leading a band of three thousand and not far ahead of Elrond. Together, we will once again defeat the forces of Sauron. Celeborn
Thráin shuffled papers and Arwen's was on top.
My dear friend,
I know I should use proper salutations when addressing king of all dwarves, however, after your generous gift and our time together, I can no longer think of you only as a distant king in a far away mountain. I was stunned at the beauty of the gems and was told you personally chose them for us. Daernaneth loves her gifts and says Mahal chose poorly in not making you a reincarnated Durin. The fact my daeradar went so willingly to assist you, speaks volumes. He hasn't lifted a hand of friendship to dwarves since the First Age. I eagerly await news of your kingdom and will remember you fondly always. Your elven friend, Arwen
Thráin smiled at the use of Sindar Cirth on both pages. He looked at Haldir, who was now seated when Dori insisted. "Are you going directly to Celeborn?"
"I will report directly to him upon arrival at King Thranduil's halls," Haldir tersely answered.
"Dori, give our guest a glass of wine while I write a response." Not waiting to see if his orders were carried out, he reached into a drawer and pulled a clean, expensive sheet of parchment.
Lord Celeborn,
Should your granddaughter ever find her travels close to Erebor, I would consider it grave insult should she not visit. I would request you send Elrond to me to thank him personally, but I fear he will try and charge for his escort services and he isn't getting one barrel of wine beyond our agreement. Your word is honorable as I knew it would be and the supplies are being offloaded as I write. I would be honored with a visit from you so I can express my thanks over a meal complete with fine wine in my halls. Of course, bring Thranduil and Elrond when he arrives. And I expect to see Elrond's lords and sons, as they have been titled dwarf friend. Regards, Thráin II
He quickly folded the paper into an envelope and dripped wax from a candle onto the flap and pressed his ring to seal. Taking another sheet, he quickly scrawled a note to his neighboring king.
King Thranduil,
Greetings from under the mountain. Old Forest Road will soon be bursting with dwarves. I extended an invitation to Lord Celeborn to feast in my halls once my dwarves are home and of course you are most welcome. I will pay for their traveling your lands when you come. Bring your ledgers and we will compare figures, tell lies and argue over a fair amount.
Gandalf should be getting close and a raven came stating they will reach the eastern shores of Long Lake in about four days, so will be first to arrive. The raven stated a large band of orcs and wargs are following, but not overtaking. I expect they might mount an attack near the lake and am sending my army led by Dáin to guide them in. They are in a blackout that I live and my soldiers will be ordered not to let my presence slip, as I have unpleasant business with Lord Dóvad of Jötunheim. Regards, Thráin II
Haldir sipped the fine wine and kept his eyes on the king. He saw the dwarf out of the corner of his eye also waiting.
Thráin handed him the two messages after he placed the recipient's names on each. "I would appreciate if ye hurried directly ta Thranduil an Celeborn with these messages, laddie." He turned to Dori. "When ye have seen our guest out, find Dáin an tell him ta come here."
Haldir emptied his flute, rose and stalked out without speaking to the king.
Thráin watched in amusement.
"Ye got the army ready ta leave?" Thráin asked Dáin when he marched into the king's office without knocking and went straight to the ale. Thráin waited until Dáin sat opposite him and downed half the glass.
"Aye, we are waitin yer word," he growled. "I have ah favor ta ask ye."
"Does it have something ta do with young Thorin?" Thráin guessed with a smile on his face.
"Yes. He is kicking up ah fuss about going an I need ah babysitter."
Thráin chuckled, "I'll put him at my side an run his feet off with errands. It is way too dangerous ta have that many Durin's scattered over Middle Earth, knowing they are hunted by Sauron as we do. The lad just may be my heir if all goes wrong."
Dáin nodded seriously. "I don't need his mother worrying about him at this time."
"Did Roäc report?"
"Aye, I sent him flying over the caravan two days ago," Dáin conveyed with a grin. "I made Thorin speak with him an give me ah report an stayed in my office. The lad said Balin spoke for Bard an us. The wagons are now unloaded an men relaxing in the tavern just opened in Dale. They complained about the high prices for ah pint until it was pointed out it came from the Iron Hills. The king who led the caravan went in Bard's hall with Balin."
"Thorin is getting good at talking to the ravens," Balin commented from his place inside the door where he eavesdropped and moved to sit beside Dáin. "That's exactly what happened. The king is an unpleasant man, but we know that from dwarven trips to Rohan. He let it slip he tangled with Celeborn and we pried the story from him. The idiot is lucky to be breathing. He thinks he has seen the last of Celeborn, but I'm sure they will meet again; for King Fengel was ordered to stay in Dale until all the dwarves arrive and help if attacked."
"Do I have ta take him with me?" Dáin bemoaned.
"No, he and his men are staying in Dale," Balin supplied. "I passed the invitation ye offered along to him and Bard. They accepted and will dine here tomorrow night. Bard explained all his money was in our vault so he would have to wait until Bain carried a sack to him. I also instructed Lötun to take our share to the distrusting king. He is beginning to think we are stealing his supplies and might murder his people. Not a trusting sort at all."
"I'm glad to miss dining with him," Dáin spoke enthusiastically and rose, setting his empty tankard on the desk. "We'll leave before the sun so I'm turnin in early."
"Good luck," Thráin replied.
"Greet my brother with a kiss," Balin laughingly called after him.
Thráin laughed and handed Balin the notes Haldir delivered. "File these with important messages."
Elrond felt his son's fëas as they skirted the dwarven camp in favor of the elven one. That they were in his camp instead of with Erestor didn't surprise him. By the next afternoon they would be at the Anduin and Old Ford Bridge where the other group better still be waiting. "Have you eaten?" He asked when they swung down from their mounts.
"What do you have?" Elladan asked and looked into a pot by his father's fire. "I think a bowl of this and chunk of bread should keep us through the night."
"I'm not hungry," Elrohir announced and his father immediately jumped to his feet, hands reaching for his youngest son. He stood still and let his father's healing hands slide over his chest and stomach.
Glorfindel looked on with concern. Usually he could tell when one of the twins was pranking, but Elrohir really wasn't feeling well. Since elves didn't get sick, it must be something else. "Is that why you two came back?"
Elladan sobered all of the sudden. "Elrohir's fëa is off. He didn't want to return, but I insisted. We can't pin down his ailment."
Círdan and Taíban appeared from the dark and the elder spoke, "I thought I saw your horses, boys..." He trailed off when he saw what Elrond was doing.
"Iôn-nín, describe what you feel."
Now everyone at the fire crowded around. He wasn't bleeding or had broken bones and anything else would be rare, but he was part man, so had a greater risk he might succumb to an illness.
Elrohir thought hard about how he really felt. "I'm weary and achy. Not like when we overdo it, but bone tired weariness. I have no strength. I'm not in pain, but feel a burning in my nose."
"Did you eat anything strange?" Elrond asked.
Elrohir thought of all he ate in the dwarven camp. "The dams brought us a pot of porridge with berries in it this morning."
"We all ate it and I'm fine," Elladan protested. "Erestor had some."
"Wait..," Elrohir protested and all eyes bore into him. "They asked if we wanted toppings and I was the only one who accepted."
"That's right," Elladan remembered. "What did it taste like?"
"Nuts and cinnamon. It was good."
"We need to find out what nuts they used," Elrond decided. "Maybe it was of a variety you've never had and are having a reaction."
"All I want to do is go to bed," Elrohir acknowledged.
Elrond took him to his own tent, glad Estel was already sound asleep in another tent with his mother, just in case it was contagious to humans."
Glorfindel shooed Figwit out of the tent and rolled Elrohir's bedroll on the ground.
"I want him on my cot," Elrond commanded.
"I was making your bed," Glorfindel laughingly retorted.
"I'm stealing yours. You sleep on the ground," Elrond quipped back as he pulled his son's boots off.
"Take mine. I'll sleep under the stars." Glorfindel exited the tent, leaving Elrond to fuss over his son.
"Will he really be okay?" Elladan asked when Glorfindel joined them at the fire.
"I'll take a trip to Taniquetil and inquire of the Valar. Elrond would sail if anything happened to either of you and Middle Earth be hanged."
"Arwen isn't ever sailing, is she?" Elladan quietly asked and those at the fire looked stunned; all but Glorfindel. "You know she dies."
"What is he saying?" Círdan asked quietly.
"Celeborn was going to send you a letter this spring to make a ship ready, but Galadriel overrode him. If Arwen stays; she dies."
"Elrond's burden is greater than all in Middle Earth," Círdan sympathized.
"He loves his daughter, but to have a son…," Glorfindel trailed off looking sheepish.
"My son died fighting the last known vampire at Tol-in-Gaurhoth at the beginning of the war. He was way too young to die; like so many we lost, but I take pride in the fact he did succeed in his mission and his death wasn't for naught."
Glorfindel nodded. "I remember him when I journeyed to Falas with Fingolfin and Turgon on a supply run for Gondolin. Your wife never recovered did she?"
Círdan shook his head. She longed to sail to the west and I loved sailing, but on this side. She took our daughter and left at the end of the war. Like you, Glorfindel, I had to sacrifice a personal relationship for this land."
Glorfindel seemed lost in thought as he stared into the fire. "I freely chose adventure and felt cheated I was born in Amon and never saw these lands. What did you stay for?"
"Eönwë said my greatest days were ahead in Ennor. I would have sailed, but was asked to stay. When I told him I would, he gifted me like you with special insight. After receiving my gift, I understood why I must remain until all elves are gone from these shores. I am to be on the last boat and when I arrive, there will be a permanent sundering of the lands and we will fade into myth on this side of the sea."