Fræg quivered when word reached his cell that dwarves from Jötunheim were almost upon them. He did as the king ordered and found his days free; although a guard always accompanied him. He spotted the Durin's once in a while with their bevy of elite guards and once he spotted Thráin, with Dáin at his side and four guards, two fore and aft. He sank on a rock hard bed and formulated a story for Lord Dóvad.
In the king's chambers far above, Azie quietly knitted a baby blanket from the softest lamb's wool. She listened quietly as once again Dáin argued with their eldest.
"I have thousands of soldiers who don't dare backtalk," Dáin spoke sternly. "Ye want ta be one of them, yet act like the dwarfling ye are."
Azie could see that hit the mark and Thorin clamped his mouth tightly shut.
Dáin continued, "I only take warriors of age into battle. I know ye can best the average soldier, but they fought in the last battle an are seasoned."
"Ori fought," Thorin's tongue won the battle. "He isn't ah soldier, but ah librarian."
"I would take him over ye," Dáin decreed and saw disbelief in his son's eyes. "He is of age."
A welcome knock sounded and Dáin took the few steps and threw it open. He quickly stepped back and Thráin stalked in while his four guards took up posts outside the door.
Thráin smiled and addressed Azie first. "I welcome the lad ye most certainly will give this undeserving lord."
"He is already making me tired. If you need to speak privately with Dáin, I will welcome a chance to rest."
"Nay lass, I just stopped by ta lay out Thorin's duties while his father is gone."
Thorin's eyes went wide and he stood straighter when the king turned to him and spoke in Sindarin. "I hope you haven't forgotten all you learned."
Thorin quickly found his voice and returned in kind, "No, your honor, err, highness," he corrected and saw Thráin and his father grin at his blunder.
"Well, ye need more lessons with Ori," Thráin reverted to Khuzdul. "Tomorrow I have ta entertain the king from Rohan an ye will stand in for yer father."
"You mean I get ta sit in his place at the table?" Thorin asked excitedly.
"I don't see why not," Thráin agreed and knew it pleased both Dáin and Thorin. "Come ta my office after yer morning lessons in the ring an I'll tell ye what I expect of ye."
"But the army will be gone. I'm already sparing with trained soldiers an am way ahead of my age."
"Tomorrow, ye spar one on one with General Lötun." Thráin was glad years of training schooled his features into stone so he didn't burst out laughing at the myriad of emotions crossing young Thorin's face: fear, excitement and doubt.
"I'm sorry ta miss it," Dáin stated and happy his son seemed to forget his disappointment at not traveling with him.
"Thorin will give ye ah full report, as will Lötun. I've already spoken with him on what he is ta do."
Dáin nodded his acceptance.
A blast from a horn alerted Erestor that Elrond arrived. Dwarves made way for the larger group that was ready for a rest after tackling the Misty Mountains. The last few days were stressful under the elves command they mustn't stop until clear of Goblin-town. Weary animals rushed the river once they were unharnessed.
"We pushed through the night," Elrond explained to Erestor the scene before him. "I needed to get here for Elrohir's sake."
"He left here in fine condition. Did harm befall our elfling?" Erestor asked, concerned for Elrohir and his eyes scanned the arriving elves for him.
"He is sick," Elrond stated flatly.
Erestor looked shocked. "Elves don't get sick."
"He is one sick boy and getting worse. It's almost like he was poisoned. I want to speak with the dwarf who fed you breakfast the day they left. Elrohir said he had a topping you and Elladan didn't. Did any of our guards eat the topping?"
"I'll inquire," Erestor stated and saw Elrohir being helped from the back of a wagon and rushed to him. "Let me have him," he ordered.
"I don't know what is wrong with me, Erestor," Elrohir said and stood on wobbly legs.
"I hope it wasn't done on purpose," Glorfindel quietly stated from Elrohir's other side. "You know, a disgruntled dwarf targeting Celeborn's daeriôns."
A tent was hastily erected and Elrohir escorted inside and laid on a cot.
"I want to speak to the cooks who served you," Glorfindel ordered in a tone that had Erestor motioning for him to come.
They maneuvered through milling dwarves to an area near the river where food was being prepared.
"There," Erestor pointed to a group of dwarves, mostly female. "They cook for elves."
An elderly dam looked up when the sun was suddenly blocked. She saw two tall elves looking down at her. One she recognized, but the other was fair as morning sun and she wondered if he was elf or god. There was a shining about him.
"My good lady," Erestor began, "we would like to ask you about a topping for our porridge you served us."
"My secret topping!" she exclaimed and rooted in a bag, pulling a pouch of woven cotton. "Finest topping around."
"What do you make if from?" Erestor encouraged.
"Oh no, I'll not be sharing with elves my family secrets."
"How about this then. Has any other elves than Elrohir, eaten any?" Erestor tried persuasion of a friendly nature.
"I offered, but you finicky elves don't try anything new. That one elf; you know, the two I can't tell apart? One of them ate some and said it was very good."
"Well, he if very ill now," Glorfindel stated.
"I never meant to harm them, I swear," she defended and clutched the bag to her breasts, her beard slipping slightly as her actions tugged on it.
"I'm sure you didn't," Erestor soothed, "but we would like a sample for our healers to look at, and if you would talk to Lord Elrond, our head healer, we might find a cure for our ailing friend."
"I'm not in trouble, am I?" She asked with concern. "My husband is a soldier and won't be happy should ill come to me."
"I assure you, we will not harm you. Please, it is imperative that you hasten to our lord."
The dam looked around and hollered, "Itle, watch my pot. If I'm not back in half an hour, take it off the fire."
She let them escort her into the middle of many large tents elves used. A standard was flying before one of the tents and Erestor escorted her inside while Glorfindel went back to overseeing the warriors. She looked around at furniture that folded until her eyes lit on an elf lying on a cot, with another very tall elf standing over him.
"Elrond," Erestor spoke and the tall elf turned to them. "I bring the dam that has been so kind as to feed us."
Elrond smiled at her in hope the frightened look would fade from her eyes. "I understand you might have accidently given my son something his system cannot handle."
The dwarf held her pouch out to him and he took it immediately to a table and poured a small amount in a bowl. First he sniffed and looked and then turned back to her. "Tell me every ingredient and don't leave one out."
She listed all she gathered from the woods and vales around the White Mountains.
Círdan slipped inside behind her to listen and add his vast wisdom. She started and whirled about when he talked. "Elrond, the dried gavr fruit grows wild on the southern slopes of the White Mountains, but I bet your boys have never seen it before, unless they stumbled into some when Celeborn took them on that trip to the south when they were only five hundred. It is a berry that will cause men to die and elves suffer, but dwarves love it. It is a rare berry." He looked at the dam. "How did you come by some?"
"My husband was a soldier on a trip over the mountains to Anfalas and along the Lefnui River he and his group found many berries and picked several bushels. We dried them and due to their sweet, cinnamon taste, substitute for honey. Placed in moisture, they leech sweetness into our oats."
"Elves learned long ago to avoid that berry and since they only grow in extremely hot weather; they have all but passed from knowledge," Círdan stated to Elrond.
Elrond nodded, "I've never seen one." He looked in the bowl and fished a dark orange object out. "Is this it?"
The dam nodded. "I am from the White Mountains and my husband Erebor. I knew of the berries; for every fall trip over the mountains brought a bounty of them back and dwarves from there don't trade them."
"I doubt even Thorin Oakenshield knows this berry will kill a man and sicken an elf," Círdan explained to them and the dam looked worried. "You couldn't have known if you never share them."
"The elves treated us so nice, I thought to offer them a treat; that's all," she cried and Círdan patted her shoulder in comfort.
Elrond looked sober. "We'll see just how much man is in my son. Is there a cure?"
Círdan thought. "I'm not so sure the poison won't just have to work from his body. I was just a boy when our group encountered the berries. Many elves became sick, but we didn't have the knowledge back then of healing. All recovered in time and we marked the berries with a stone for danger."
The dam listened intently; for out of courtesy they spoke Westron. She added in disbelief, "You have the best healers in Middle Earth. I don't understand you saying you lacked knowledge back then."
Círdan smiled down upon her. "I am very aged. You do know elves don't die." At her nod, he added, "I am almost eight thousand years old. My parents woke at Cuiviénen and I was born there. It was the awakening of elves and we didn't have the knowledge that we now possess."
"He is being modest," Elrond stated. "He was the first elfling born there."
"I believe we are trying to help Elrohir," Círdan reminded him.
"Now that we know what he ate, I will consult with Galadriel and have Maiawë research his ancient written records since he is almost as old as you."
In that case, I will escort our helpful guest back to her kind," Círdan said lightheartedly, with a gesture for the dam to go with him.
Elladan pressed by Círdan, who stopped and waited for the report. "None of our warriors tried it. Seems like El was the only adventurous elf. I always tell you Adar, but will reinforce my opinion that I am your smarter, better looking son."
Elrond returned to Elrohir's side and sank onto a stool. "You are the son that is ahead of his brother by thirty wounds."
Círdan left, laughing softly and shaking his head. He looked down at the dwarf, "Elrond loves those two. He shows it with testy ripostes and complaints. Now his daughter on the other hand; he manipulates for his affections. It won't work with his son's." He didn't expect a comeback or the dwarf to fully comprehend his analysis.
"My husband and I have three sons. All fathers must treat their sons the same; for Lord Elrond didn't say one word my husband hasn't used in dealing with our boys."
Círdan left her by her fire and pot and wandered through the dwarves looking for Thorin. He found him with the lords from both mountain ranges. The moment they met and pleasantries over, Thorin started a meeting. Círdan stood just behind Gróin and listened.
"We are making too tempting ah target?" Lord Fárin was complaining.
"I agree with the elves," Thorin countered. "We make an easier target straggling in so orcs and wargs can pick us off. The elves are stretched thin guarding us now and your group doesn't have any. I've seen elves fight and they are worth having around when we travel."
"The Thorin I knew wouldn't give an elf the time of day," Hepti snorted in distain. "Ye've gone soft, lad."
"Or I've had a refresher recently in fighting the forces of Sauron; while your memories of Azanulbizar are growing dim," Thorin snarled right back. "As ranking Durin, the matter is settled." He looked at Garad and changed the subject. "Tell us about the band of orcs you encountered on top of the pass."
Confident Thorin had his dwarves under control; Círdan slipped away and back to the camp of elves.
Bard rode between Fengel and Scumper up the short road to Erebor. The doors swung out so they didn't break stride until inside the mountain. It was Fengel's first time inside a dwarven hall. Somehow he was under the impression they lived in caves and used crude torches for light with smoke billowing through tunnels with miners dirty from work, sleeping on the ground. He wasn't prepared for the light and vastness. His eyes traveled upward at massive pillars; all crafted from floor to ceiling with beautiful carvings. Following Bard's lead, he dismounted and a dwarf led his horse down an almost invisible tunnel by the door.
"He is taking them to the stables," Bard offered and turned to greet the waiting Balin. "I see you wasted no time in claiming the mountain's share from the warehouse."
Balin smiled at them warmly. "Welcome to Erebor, jewel of all dwarven halls currently occupied. I hope you are enjoying your stay, King Fengel."
Fengel nodded and was still craning his neck to absorb it all. He realized Balin was speaking to him. "This is impressive. I underestimated dwarves when they came to Edoras."
"Most other races do and because we prefer our mountain holes, they are left to form opinions not based in firsthand knowledge," Balin reasoned. He was used to explaining why dwarves were considered less than other races. "Come, the king is waiting to meet you." He led the way past guards to the throne.
Thráin sat on his throne with Thorin Stonehelm to his left and Balin's spot open on his right. Dori and Ori were standing just off to the right.
Fengel's eyes were caught and held by the Arkenstone, giving the dwarves ample time to study him.
"King Fengel, meet King Thráin II, a direct descendent of Durin I; supreme lord of Erebor and Moria and all dwarven halls." Done with his introduction, Balin ascended the short flight of steps and took his place at Thráin's right hand.
Fengel nodded his head politely, but didn't bow to another king. "King Thráin, I was utterly surprised when Lord Celeborn wrote of your resurrection from the dead and requested supplies. I had to see for myself that I wasn't being lied to by the elves."
"I am honored the king of Rohan made the journey. My third heir, Thorin Stonehelm," Thráin pointed to young Thorin, who stood tall. "You know Lord Balin, and to his right are Lord Dori and Lord Ori. They are also Durin's and my kin. Come, I will give a short tour on the way to my dining hall." Thráin rose and motioned his guests to follow.
Fengel noticed Bard warmly greeted all he was introduced to and they also trailed along. Thráin went down the stairs behind the throne and into the main hall with his gilded floor. He stopped in the middle of the floor and turned to watch Fengel's expression. "This is the main hall where large functions are held. I was crowned here not too long ago."
Fengel looked at more gold than he knew existed in all of Arda and saw it splashed several feet up the walls and pillars. "How thick is this floor?"
"Two ta three feet," Thráin supplied. "I think it adds ah nice touch this room was lacking. Thorin paved it with molten gold when fighting the dragon." Thráin reverted to his favorite jargon, done with being formal.
Fengel pointed to Thorin. "You did this?"
"No, my cousin, the king's son, Thorin Oakenshield," Thorin supplied and secretly wished it was of his doing.
"I heard the king say third heir. What does that mean to dwarves?"
"Same as men," Thráin answered. "My son Thorin is my heir and this Thorin's father, Lord Dáin Ironfoot is my second heir." Done with this area, Thráin led them on.
Fengel found the meat seasoned with pepper and to his liking. There were also mashed potatoes, carrots and green beans. He was surprised the dwarves consumed the same food as men and wondered what elves ate. He saw more dwarves at the table, but Thráin didn't introduce any of them. "Does that dwarf," he pointed at Thorin, "ever leave your side?" Thorin was seated to Thráin's left and the king sat at the end of a long dining table. Fengel was placed to Thráin's right and Balin next to him for easier conversation.
"He is filling in for his father. Dáin left early this morning with our army ta escort ah group of dwarves coming across the vast plains of Rhûn from the Red Mountains. Gandalf is leading that group an they should be here within four days."
"You expect trouble?" Fengel asked and suspected he might be called to action soon than he wanted.
"Sauron doesn't want dwarves back in this mountain. We don't know why an in all my long years in captivity, he never told me."
Fengel was intrigued. "You mean to tell me that Sauron talked with you? What does he look like?"
Thráin swallowed and reached for his tankard of ale to wash it down. "He doesn't have ah body, an is just energy that ye can see. I didn't look directly at him as it would drive one mad. It is ah form that keeps repeating over an over very rapidly an looks like it resides in blazing, eye hurting fire."
"Can he hurt you?"
"Oh yes. I saw him kill many times an he seemed ta gain in strength with each kill."
"Legend says he will be defeated by the king of Gondor. Will I live to see this king?" Fengel wanted him to say yes.
"That I don't know, an ah good question for the wizard when he arrives," Thráin deflected. He had long talks with Erestor who said the king might be born, but not to tell a living soul.
Gandalf veered them away from the river with instructions not to waste water for they had a week without. They entered a barren wilderness where grass for the animals was scarce. Now the animals were suffering on half rations and Lord Dóvad was furious. It was approaching dusk and they finally got relief from the hot sun on baked rock with very little scrub.
"Tell me again why starving my animals is ah good idea?" Dóvad thundered up at the wizard.
"We are being followed closely and I wish this journey over, master Dóvad," Gandalf explained with more patience than he was noted for. It was becoming a nightly ritual and the leaders gathered to hear his explanation of their progress. "We have been in sight of the mountain for three weeks and now can make out valleys and meadows. If we kept by the river, it would add a week and I'm sure you are as tired as me of the endless grind. Your wagons need repair and food is almost gone. We will be close enough to Erebor tomorrow to hale a raven with a message of our imminent arrival. I assure you, Lord Dóvad; tomorrow night we will be at water's edge."
"And where is this water?" One of Dóvad's lords asked.
"My good friend, we will be at Long Lake."
Dwalin, Nori and Óin exchanged looks of surprise. They had no idea they were that close, as they never traveled this way before. A horn sounded from their posted watch and they ran for their ponies to lead what was surely an attack by orcs.
Dwalin raced his pony up the hill and ordered, "What is happening?"
The guard pointed to the west. "I see a large army coming our way. We will be slaughtered if it be evil like that trailing."
Gandalf and the other leaders joined them and he looked closely at the figures in the distance. "Send a scout for numbers. I'm not sure at this distance what is coming, but they will intersect us after nightfall unless they make camp."
"Nori, with me," Dwalin ordered and spurred his pony forward.
They watched until they were specs.
"This open area fools ye," Óin commented. "They are further away than they appear."
Gandalf nodded.
Half the distance to them, Dwalin pulled up and looked at Nori. "What say you and I attack?"
Nori looked at him like he'd gone mad. "What say we run?"
"Naw, I'm attacking," Dwalin stated with a grin and dug his heels into his pony's sides. With a battle cry, he made for the oncoming army, Warhammer brandishing."
Nori took a closer look at what was going to kill his cousin and then laughed madly, and he too attacked.
"My lord, something approaches rapidly," an advance scout shouted to Dáin.
"How many something's?" Dáin called back.
"Umm, two."
"Let them come, as long as they don't have ten thousand warriors behind them," Dáin instructed and motioned his army to keep moving.
Dwalin rode hard by the advance scout and saluted with his Warhammer on his way to Dáin, who laughed in glee. Nori was a few paces behind.
"Dwalin, Nori, good ta see ye lads. We are yer welcome committee."
"And ah welcome sight you are," Dwalin thundered. "We have ah few hundred orcs and wargs on our heels. We figure they won't let us reach the mountain without attacking." He fell into step with Dáin's ram on one side and Nori took the other.
"How close to your group are we?" Dáin asked.
"Gandalf ordered camp with what is left of our firewood and said we'll be at Long Lake tomorrow."
Dáin nodded. "We camped along the shores last night an caught some of the biggest lake trout ye ever saw. My army will be happy ta hear tomorrow night will be ah repeat."
"We hit several streams, rivers and lakes that hadn't been fished in a long time and we ate well for much of the way," Dwalin rejoined. "What's the situation in the mountain?" He changed the subject.
"My army knows not ta breath one word about Thráin. I escaped in time ta avoid meeting the king of Rohan. I'm told he is as difficult here as when dwarves visit Edoras. The elves are coming an expect ah battle like last year. Lord Celeborn is already camped out with Thranduil an the men of Rohan have been ordered ta stay until all dwarves are inside the mountain. Lord Fárin is leading the White Mountain Longbeards."
"That's ah fair amount of welcome news," Nori spoke up.
Dáin chuckled. "But not all. Azie is going ta give me another dwarfling."
"That's great," Dwalin slapped him on the back with the Warhammer while Nori added his congratulations.
"When the scouts failed to return with a report, I scouted for myself." The thunderous voice of Gandalf boomed from the dark and he rode up to them and they could just make out each other's faces. He broke into a broad grin. "Master Dáin, how good of you to come and join our merry band."
"Ye just keep Sauron's pets off our backs, Gandalf, an I may let ye live ta Erebor," Dáin mock threatened.
"Come now, Dáin, I've led this far without incident, but think I'll turn the guarding over to you and your army. They are of your kind after all," Gandalf joked back.
"Dáin says the elves are gathering to fight for us," Dwalin supplied the information to Gandalf before Dáin broke the news.
Gandalf was close enough to contact Galadriel, but didn't want to disturb her with petty dwarven problems and other than trailing orcs, had no real news and was interested. "Who and where?"
"Celeborn is at Thranduil's," Dáin answered. "Before I left the elf Haldir gave ah message ta…." he paused, "nobody is supposed ta know about Thráin in this band."
"I assure you they are none the wiser," Gandalf reassured him.
"Good, where was I…..oh yes, the elf gave ah message that said Celeborn was with Thranduil an Elrond on his way."
Gandalf processed with rapid speed and drew a conclusion. "The trailing orcs are waiting for something to help them. I would guess if Elrond is coming, they will be fighting Nazgûl, and most likely at the gates of Erebor again. Sauron will have learned from his mistakes and made adjustments."
"Let them come," Dáin snapped. "I missed the flying undead last round an hanker ta see them."
"Well, I don't," Gandalf snapped in irritation. It was always the same; dwarves fled to violence as fast as sane beings ran.