Thráin motioned for servants to serve them and smiled at the dams who joined their eclectic guests this fine morning to break the fast. He smiled and nodded at Gandalf, who took his customary place at the opposite end of the table. Thráin watched when the wizard pulled King Fengel down to his right and motioned for Lord Celeborn to take his right and decided the length of his long table might just be enough space between them. Bard sat across from Fengel at Gandalf's left hand, trying to ignore tensions between the elves and his personal guest. He was going to ask Thranduil to pay for pawning the insufferable king off on him.
Thranduil smiled with glee at the seating and settled in beside Celeborn; allowing the Durin lords to pile in across from them on Thráin's left side. He also saw the dams, lesser dwarven lords and his own entourage sit at a second table. The food was surprisingly good and he contemplated throwing a complement out to Bombur, but decided the dwarf didn't deserve his praise.
Celeborn looked suspiciously at the food and waited to see if Thranduil fell dead. After the king's third mouthful, he picked up a biscuit slavered with butter and jam. It melted in his mouth and he dug in; thankful he wasn't forced to eat Lembas again.
Fengel looked down the table at the two elves sharing their table. "Lord Celeborn, I am willing to risk my people on the road between here and the Anduin. We will be leaving today and taking the east side of Mirkwood to the shoals above the falls."
"You will stay and fight or my warriors will slaughter your people before they reach Long Lake," Celeborn calmly replied.
Thranduil threw a broad smile at the banal human king.
"Your encounter with that rogue band of orcs wasn't much of a fight," Fengel replied with disdain. "I guess you elves need men to fight the real foe."
Taking back his table, Thráin smoothly infused, "We will meet in the conference room for strategic placement of our forces. Dwarves will fight the bulk of Sauron's forces; leaving elves ta fight Ringwraiths an guard the caravan." He looked at Bard and decreed formally, "King Bard, I place you in charge of all men, and King Fengel will take orders from you." He didn't want to be misunderstood, and by the thunderous look Fengel cast in his direction, knew he was clear.
"I protest…," Fengel started and his eyes went wide when Celeborn smoothly stood and pulled his sword.
"Now Celeborn," Gandalf admonished in a placating tone, "we need our human friends alive; at least until Thorin arrives." He smiled in the direction of the now pale king.
Celeborn sheathed his sword, sat and looked into Thráin's one amused eye. "I will be leaving this afternoon with all you owe Thranduil and myself, or my first conflict will be with you."
"Your elves are loading horses with wine as we eat," Thráin stated and saw a blissful expression cross Thranduil's fair features.
Celeborn shook his head and muttered silently to Thranduil, 'Remind me again why I am at a table with a dwarf? They are a treacherous lot that Mithrandir and Elrond trust way too much. I want all the wine tested for poison. I wish Galadriel was here to read their tiny minds for treachery and backstabbing.'
'Remember, dear friend, it was you who welcomed Thráin into your kingdom any time he passed that way. It was you who decided to negotiate with dwarves; and it was you who ordered that sop, Fengel, to send supplies.'
'A moment of weakness.' Celeborn conceded.
Arwen glanced to her left and then her right. "Did Adar instruct you both as my guardians?"
"No," Elladan was quick to answer.
"What's wrong with your brothers wishing to visit with their little sister?" Elrohir echoed.
"Aren't you supposed to be riding in a wagon pulled by draft horses?" she countered with her own question.
"I'm fine," Elrohir argued. "I've never been sick before and now have a much better understanding of men when they come to us complaining of being ill."
"Well then, tell me of your winter," she prompted; sure Elrohir was hiding from Erestor and Adar.
They filled her in as the horses walked leisurely towards Mirkwood forest. As soon as the ground was dry enough for heavy wagon wheels, Elrond took control and ordered them to break camp. He put Glorfindel in charge of all elven warriors and instructed the Imladris party to lead and Círdan's to bring up the rear, as the mariner did since they formed an integrated group west of the Shire. It was better for Thranduil's guards to interact with elves first and avoid Thorin if at all if possible. Thus, sandwiched between elves, the long caravan crossed Old Ford Bridge and straggled towards the dying forest of Mirkwood.
Erestor found himself beside Glorfindel; who made a rare request for just them to scout ahead together. Now several miles into the forest, with not a foul servant of Sauron within Glorfindel's considerable senses; he decided now was a good time to divulge his news.
"You know you are the last ellon I would ask to search for trouble with a caravan full of our finest in the ranks?" Glorfindel started with his customary bravado and smile.
"I know from the moment I arrived on eagleback; you, Elrond and the twins are suppressing anguished fëas," Erestor mordantly snapped back. "Can it be our blessed lady has seen death of a loved one this trip?" It was the only explanation for raw hurt he brushed against when they thought nobody was near. "I pray if that's the case, the Valar see me as expendable."
Glorfindel dropped his guarded fëa and Erestor turned wide grey eyes on him when the full force of despair slapped against his body. "Yes, Galadriel foresaw a death, but not this trip. We only face Sauron's annoying Nazgûl and pathetic army this round. Elrond tried to hide it from Celeborn and I, but we dragged it from him on our last trip south when departing Erebor. We have no timeframe….," Glorfindel reached out and laid a concerned hand on his dear friend's shoulder; both for comfort in his next words and to keep him in the saddle if need be. "Galadriel and Elrond have both visioned our beloved Arwen dying."
Erestor felt his world end and his fëa screamed an agonizing, wretched howl that was eagerly absorbed by the dying trees and harmonized with their own anguish. Outwardly, his face showed no sign he just received news that would change his life. A single tear rolled down his left cheek. "Where?" he croaked.
"Under the Mallorns," Glorfindel quietly supplied.
"Then Galadriel is right to remove our elfling. We will keep her in the north and prepare a ship." Erestor's mind shifted to all that needed to be done for her to sail. That she would stay, never entered his head.
"Galadriel nixed that idea. Arwen's journey must continue; because it is she who holds the key to defeating Sauron and bringing peace to these bloodstained lands."
"And Elrond?" Erestor turned stormy eyes onto his friend at the news they were powerless to stop this repelling event.
"Will try and circumvent fate. Do you expect any less?"
"I would gladly stay and fight Sauron until the end of the world if it meant Arwen lives," Erestor vowed.
"It is worse." Glorfindel prepared himself to impart the worst part of his message.
"The only thing worse is if she takes her brothers with her." Erestor prayed he was long dead before losing any of Elrond's children.
"She dies as Lúthien," Glorfindel whispered, more to himself, but knew his voice was loud enough.
"Who is this cur that destroys our Arwen Undómiel?" Erestor snapped between clenched jaws and felt more tears streak his face. "I will kill him myself."
"Then you must kill the child she just named Elessar."
Erestor stopped his horse with a silent command. The seneschals stared at one another for a long moment. "Who is this child?" Erestor finally asked after searching his considerable memory of past Dúnedain Chieftains. "What makes him the elfstone?" He took a deep breath trying in vain to bring his troubled fëa back to normal. It throbbed like a stubbed toe.
"Elrond's state was too distraught when he stormed from the tent three days ago, but I clearly read his mind. In legend; the elfstone defeats Sauron and unites the kingdoms. Our killer is none other than Aragorn II."
Erestor looked at Glorfindel's rare sober expression. "Is there nothing we can do?"
"Hope his eyes are taken by a human lass," Glorfindel replied.
"What about Bard's daughters?" Erestor felt a glimmer of hope. "They are princesses. We can suggest to Elrond a betrothal." He could see Glorfindel considering his proposal and finally the Balrog slayer shrugged.
"Run it by Elrond."
Lióni woke in a strange bed of great comfort; her headache gone. She gingerly touched the lump made by the Warhammer and pulled away quickly when it screamed a loud protest upon being touched. She stood and let a short dizzy spell pass before dressing and foggily remembered her mother and grandmother readying her for bed and drinking the pain drought Óin ordered delivered. She opened the door to hear voices and joined the elder dams of her household.
Lári caught a movement from the corner of her eye. "How's your head?"
"A herd of Oliphants is marching to the sea through my ears, but I'll live," Lióni snippily answered.
"Then eat fast, lass. We are to be with the king in a few minutes when he addresses our returning caravan."
Lióni took a piece of warm bread slathered with butter and honey and it melted in her mouth. As she rapidly ate; she listened to her mother and grandmother talking to a short, white haired dwarf she was sure she saw on the Dias and to the right of the king, so he must hold great power.
"Lord Balin, at least tell me when my husband and son will be brought before the king again?" Lári wasn't getting anyplace with her demands to what she was learning was a very high ranking dwarf.
"I personally will talk with Lord Dóvad after the king addresses your caravan. You will have a better understanding as to the situation then." The smiling dwarf looked at Lióni. "She is a pretty lass. How did she and Thorin receive each other?"
"I can speak for myself." Lióni slammed her tankard of fresh milk on the table, done with her light repast. Standing, she went to stand in front of the dwarf and was satisfied she looked him straight in the eye. "Ever since the dwarves, who claim to be Durin's, came to Jötunheim, I've been scrutinized like a prized boar. I don't know who you are, but if I have to go down the line of Durin's, telling each of you, I'll not be sold, forced or bartered to one of your studs, just because you think my blood is pure enough, you have another think coming." Done with her rant, she waited for someone to say something.
"Apologize to Lord Balin," Risári angrily cried and then turned to the grinning lord. "Lord Balin, please forgive her bad manners. I assure you, if her grandfather, Kár, survived Azanulbizar, he would have taken his Warhammer to Dóvad for indulging the lass."
"I take it she and Thorin were a match then!" Balin laughingly retorted. "He hasn't looked twice at those who threw themselves at him. He also hates fathers that try and push him into a marriage with their daughters. I'll tell the king that this one is refreshing."
"I wouldn't hold out hope Dóvad will agree to a match after Thorin's father tossed him in your dungeon late last night," Lári replied; stunned a Durin would still consider a marriage with their family.
Balin waived his hand dismissively. "Unless war breaks out between Erebor and Jötunheim, I wouldn't discount this lass." He looked around. "Shall we?" The guard at the door jumped to swing it open and the dams saw many more in the hallway providing escort; for them or Balin they weren't sure.
Balin skirted the growing crowd from Jötunheim and now mixed with Iron Hills dwarves. News of the king's identity was strictly forbidden among those already in the mountain and guards were interspersed throughout gathering clutches to insure nobody divulged anything.
The crowd silenced when they saw the dams of Dóvad's house led up a set of stairs to a balcony overlooking them. They were sure Dóvad and Tóvad would be presented with the king and hoped King Thorin was healed from his injuries, or so were conversations that circulated among the dwarves on the main floor.
Nori, Ori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur pressed through bodies; listening and insuring the guards did their duty. Whenever they encountered such a warrior in the crowd; they would wink and nod and move on. Nobody wanted a bad report getting back to the king, or worse, Dáin Ironfoot.
The large doors swung open and several tall beings entered. The dams of Dóvad's house spotted Gandalf, two elves that were with him the night before at the throne, more elves, men and a band of dwarves. Bodies parted for them and they quickly found places on the stairs where they could oversee the entire congregation of dwarves. One dwarf hurried up the stairs and disappeared through a doorway at the back of the balcony.
Thráin checked his diadem and robes one last time and turned when servants informed him his last invited guests arrived.
Gandalf looked at Thráin. "Nori signaled you have a go."
"Balin, go warm the crowd up and give me an introduction without disclosing who I am," Thráin instructed.
He stood just out of sight alone and proudly watched the line of Durin's take the balcony, with Gandalf standing just off to one side, ready to use his crystal should the crowd turn ugly.
Cheering broke out when the Durin's lined up and finally Balin raised his hands for silence.
"For those of you who don't know me; I am Lord Balin, Personal Assistant and right hand of the king; First Regent of Erebor and Lord of Moria. And if that didn't tip ye off; I'm also a Durin." He waited for laughter to die down. "Listen closely. As I say their names, they will step out and I'll introduce them. First is Lord Dáin Ironfoot."
Dáin stepped out and waived. He stood to Balin's left, showing the newcomers that he outranked the king's personal adjutant.
Balin continued, "He is acting Heir Apparent until such time, Crown Prince, Thorin Oakenshield produces a son. Then he will return to the Iron Hills where he is regent. Next is Thorin Stonehelm."
Thorin stepped up to the left of his father and nodded to the crowd.
"Thorin Stonehelm is Dáin Ironfoot's heir until Thorin Oakenshield has a son."
Thorin's chest swelled with pride at being labeled so high on the list of possible kings. He never really thought of his position until Balin described it just now. He didn't bother to listen to Balin's short accolades about him; lost in his newfound understanding on just how close to the throne he really was. Now his forced education made sense.
"Next is Lord Dwalin."
Dwalin stepped to Balin's right and glowered at those below.
The crowd didn't know their guide was so highly ranked among the Durin's and Balin had to wait until the quiet murmur of surprise died down.
"Lord Dwalin is my younger brother and holds Lord Nár's position as Captain of the Guard and Supreme General over all armies. He answers to only a handful of dwarves."
There was another stir among the warriors of Jötunheim, that didn't know Dwalin outranked their highest general and Lord Dóvad. They knew he was a mighty warrior, but not once did Thorin or the other's refer to him as General.
"There are several Durin's missing numbered in the highest rankings. That would be Thorin's nephews, Fili and Kili and Lord Gróin. They will be here soon and introduced on this balcony before snow flies. Next in rank is Lord Óin, master healer for Erebor."
Óin, trumpet in his ear, waiting for his signal, stepped beside Dwalin, indicating a lesser ranked Durin.
"Lord Glóin, Lord Óin's younger brother is acting regent of the Iron Hills until such time that Lord Dáin Ironfoot returns. He is not present today."
One by one the rest were introduced and lined up beside Óin.
"Lastly, we have three more members of the famed Company that retook Erebor. May I present, lords Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. They are accorded rank of the lesser Durin's." Done with his introductions, he gave a moment's pause so everyone could memorize the faces before them. "And now your king; a dwarf that needs no introduction." He led a round of applause as Thráin stepped between him and Dáin to the thundering below.
He smirked as clapping slowly dwindled down and saw confused looks on the faces of the new arrivals. "What, you thought Thorin was your king?" he roared. "Thorin Oakenshield is your Crown Prince. I know Dáin Ironfoot was introduced as my heir, but he is designated such only if Thorin fails to produce an heir. If that be the case, the line will go to Dáin." He paused and looked at the crowd for overt signs of rioting.
Balin leaned over and whispered, "Should we bring Fræg out now?"
Thráin sighed and shook his head. In a raised voice, he continued, "I know you were told I was at Dol Guldur. That is correct; I was."
The crescendo forced him to stop and wait once more. Shouts of traitor were clearly heard and he hoped Dáin's faith in his warriors was valid or they wouldn't stand a chance with only Gandalf for protection. He raised a hand and waited for the cavern to once again grow silent. "For fifty years I was held captive of the Necromancer, also known as Sauron. With the help of Gandalf," he pointed to where the wizard stood at the head of the stairs, "I escaped and made my way to Lothlórien, where I was graciously cared for by Lord Celeborn of the elves and his family." Once again, Thráin pointed to an elf this time. "I was reunited with my son after the Battle of Five Armies. Now; let me introduce you to our new king of Dale; King Bard."
Bard stepped forward on the stairs and saw eyes look in his direction. He was glad he decided to keep his children home today and didn't like what he saw in the faces of the returning dwarves.
"And of course, our neighbor and friend, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm." Thráin pointed to Thranduil, who looked down at the dwarves from his place beside Gandalf and smirked.
"And one final speech before you are taken to your chambers. Lord Fræg has something he wishes to tell you."
The warriors guarding Fræg pushed him to stand beside their king. Fræg looked worried, swallowed hard and began. "Years ago when survivors of ah caravan return ta Jötunheim, I was ordered by Lord Dóvad ta find answers in the portents. Hard as I tried, nothing came. In desperation, I mixed ah draught of peyot root from plants found in the gullies on the east side of the Red Mountains. I traded medical supplies ta an Easterling I met in private.
"I knew it was risky, but everyone wanted ta know the fate of dwarves taken by Ringwraith's, because it was so abnormal. If it had been anything except them; I wouldn't have been pressed for answers. In my stupor, I saw King Thráin's face an ah crown on his head. I also saw the location an knew from my journey with the army ta Azanulbizar, the tall towers of that evil city must be his new kingdom. My mind put the pieces together falsely an my portent was skewered. Instead of seeing the king on the throne of Erebor, my drugged conscious placed him in the wrong realm.
"Then ta make matters worse for me an my family, I lied, figuring no Durin would ever be the wiser. In my shame, I slandered the name an honor of King Thráin. For you see, I was given ah portent an if I had just waited ah little longer, would have seen him in shackles an we might have gotten word ta Thorin Oakenshield ta mount ah rescue. When uprisings from the Longbeards threatened Jötunheim over my lies; Lord Dóvad ordered the families of those taken ta leave an find work elsewhere, so he could restore peace. As long as they lived in Jötunheim; they kept everyone stirred up against the Durin's. On my advice, Lord Dóvad acted. I take full responsibility."
"Tell what happened because of your lies," Dwalin snarled and reached around Balin to slug Fræg in the shoulder.
Rubbing his aching shoulder and numb arm, Fræg quickly acquiesced before Lord Dáin felt the need to injure his other side. "Because of me, insurrection against King Thráin occurred right here in this mountain. The miners relocated ta the Iron Hills an when they learned King Thráin lived, journeyed with Lord Dáin an plotted ta kill our traitor king.
"One of the youths who left with the miner's had ah father that was ah guard on the caravan the Ringwraith's took. He attempted ta kill the king an was himself struck down. The miners then tried ta attack the king directly an are still in the dungeon awaiting their fate. I have spread word daily of my deception an beg everyone ta believe me. I don't stand here lightly confessing my crimes. An then, before the throne, I lied yet again; this time directly ta King Thráin's face." Tears started rolling down his cheeks and he looked into King Thráin's one eye. "Please forgive me."
Thráin considered the dwarf's plea. It was the first time he encountered him since he appeared before his throne months before. "Bring the prisoners, except Dóvad and his spawn."
Hearing their lord was in the dungeons of Erebor had the crowd murmuring again.
Thranduil was enjoying this immensely and leaned over to speak softly to Gandalf. "I could offer my dungeon for Dóvad and his rat."
"If Thráin gets attacked again, I'll bring them to you personally," Gandalf offered and then had an inspiration. He strode to tower over the dwarves on the balcony. He tapped the end of his staff and a white light shot across the room. He bellowed down to the dwarves, "If one hair on Thráin's head is harmed, Lord Dóvad will be held responsible, no matter who commits the act. He will be sentenced to spend one hundred years in King Thranduil's dungeon. I charge every one of you to ensure your king remains healthy. Oh, and that offer is for any Durin or member of the Company coming to harm. I expect all of you to settle into the mountain and make this community as when King Thrór ruled these halls." Done, he patted Thráin's shoulder and retook his place on the stairs.
Warriors with spears made a space directly below the balcony and held the crowd back. The miners were escorted before the king and saw those from Jötunheim staring at them.
"Look up here," Thráin commanded. "I have reached a decision on your doom. All of you will be barred forever from Erebor. You will return to Jötunheim and remain there for the remainder of your days. You will not be allowed to travel and must be inside the mountain when the doors close at night." He saw relief on the faces of those that were sure an execution was in their future. He turned to Fræg. "You too are under the doom of the miners. You will live the rest of your life in the confines of Jötunheim and be stripped of the title Lord. You will be known only as Master Fræg and your offspring will be barred from any titles as well. You will leave the mountain today." Done, he beckoned Gandalf, the men and elves to join him. "I believe I've kept you from breakfast long enough."
Everyone below watched the Durin's and their companies depart through a door at the back of the balcony.
The dams of Dóvad were escorted back to their chambers, where soon the personal effects from their wagon arrived.
Elessar looked around at the dank forest where light was as absent as living things. He was glad to be traveling with a large group and knew ada wouldn't let orcs or trolls near them. He still spent his days with young dwarves and found a friend in a youth called Gimli. From the moment they were introduced at Imladris, they felt a kinship and became inseparable.
"I can hardly wait ta see da," Gimli spouted out of the blue and even at his young years, Elessar picked up the undertones he missed his father.
"The only adar I've known is Lord Elrond," he replied and swung his sword at a branch and smiled when it sliced through, showing his arm was improving.
"I thought he was yer father?" Gimli looked curiously at his new friend. "Ya refer ta the twins as yer brothers an know the Sindar term for father an ye have called him adar. I just figured Lord Elrond and yer mother were wed. He treats her like ah wife."
"How so?" Elessar's voice rose several pitches.
"He escorts her when they are together for one," Gimli replied. "An my mother said he laughs when he talks with her, so they must be in love. An he hasn't produced another wife, has he?"
Elessar thought about the twin's mother and what little he knew. He realized he never gave their mother much thought and wondered who she was among the statues and paintings. "I will ask adar if he is married to mother, but they don't share a bed."
Gimli snorted in disdain, "What do ya really know about the private matters of elves?"
"Look, there are the twins," Elessar shouted and pointed to a spot in the trees where they were mounted on their horses and watching the caravan slowly roll past. What the lads didn't know was Elrohir's strength was waning and he waited for the wagon with a bed prepared for him to roll past.
Elessar and Gimli ran to the horses. "Can we ride?" he asked Elladan.
Elladan glanced to his brother, who nodded and pulled the boy up before him and Elrohir likewise settled the smaller, stockier form of the dwarf before him. They urged their mounts into a run and had the boys laughing as they dodged trees until at the head of the line again.
Elessar glanced up over his shoulder. "El, I have a question."
Elladan smiled down at him, "Only one?"
"Is adar married to my mother?"
'What brought that on?' Elrohir questioned into his brother's mind.
"No, they are not married. Why do you ask?" Elladan threw down at the boy.
"Well, Gimli thought they were, and I wasn't sure."
"My ma says they look married," Gimli defended.
"Our adar is already married, so cannot take another wife," Elrohir supplied to his rider.
"Where is his wife then?" Elessar asked. "Or is she like your sister; living in another kingdom?"
"Yes, she lives in another kingdom," Elladan stated sadly.
"How come nobody ever told me about her?" Elessar asked; suddenly not sure how much he really knew about the elves he lived with.
"In time you will be told everything," Elladan stated.
"Now's as good as time as any," Elessar reasoned. "So, you know my mother and I want to know all about yours."
"Well, you do know she is the daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel?" Elladan started with the obvious.
"Yes, but nobody ever talks about her. I thought she must be dead and everyone is sad," Elessar reasoned.
"We are sad, but she isn't dead. She sailed to the west to live in Aman."
"But why? Doesn't she love you guys anymore?" Elessar wasn't sure he wanted to hear more if it hurt his brothers.
The twin's fëas reflected their dismay at his ignorant youthful question and before Elladan could formulate a reply, Elrond was on his left, with Glorfindel and Erestor flanking his right.
'Is giving rides to boys taxing your fëas?' Elrond asked into his son's minds.
'Elessar is asking about Naneth,' Elrohir supplied.
'He wants to know if you and Gilraen are married,' Elladan added with a smirk at his father. They heard Erestor and Glorfindel laughing in their minds.
'Let me have the boy,' Elrond demanded.
Without a word Elessar found himself tossed into the air effortlessly and caught by Elrond. "My son, it is time we had a little talk."
"Elladan, take Gimli back to his group," Elrohir requested. He looked at Erestor. "You are right; I'm not well enough to ride all day." He handed the youth off and rode quickly down the line until at the wagons of elves with Erestor at his side.
Erestor inspected the bed first to make sure nothing heavy shifted and landed on the narrow mattress and motioned Elrohir to climb in the back. "Do you need me to stay with you?"
"For a moment," Elrohir admitted as he lay back on soft mattress and blankets. "Why is Elessar asking about Naneth?"
Erestor made himself comfortable and mentally told his horse to stay close. "He is growing up and starting to observe his surroundings."
"That, and Gimli put the questions in his mind," Elrohir admitted and closed his eyes.
Erestor reached over and helped him slip into sleep with gentle fingers on his forehead. He made himself comfortable on the back of the wagon, legs dangling over the back and watched over his charge; searching for signs of discomfort Elrohir could mask while awake. He looked up, searching for sky through a canopy made of large trees. Finding not a ray of sunlight breaking through the boughs, he hoped Elrond didn't need his assistance explaining why Gilraen would never wed him. He hoped when they broke through the far side and sun once again bathed everyone and the mountain loomed before them, the boy would be too busy to ask Elrond questions that troubled his aching fëa and caused such an intense longing to sail, everyone near could feel.