Dwarves, councils, chaos.
Galadriel is (grand)mother and amazing.
Host -II
Truly, Ariel has thought that maybe she would get a good night's rest after that day - no, she hasn't really, that is a lie - and indeed, she doesn't.
The dwarves finally retire, as far as "retire" is the right term for a company that starts making a fire in the outskirts of the Homely House and grill sausages that make her stomach nearly flip, just from the smell. She is a little confused when the halfling disappears - of course, she could track him down, but her father and Gandalf soon get up and by the Valar, she is going to follow them, especially if Thorin is involved!
When she moves Elrond looks at the brink of saying something, but then thinks better of it and simply motions for her to come - a smart choice.
They all gather in his study, and this apparently seems to become a secret little council. Strangely enough, Lady Galadriel and Saruman are not invited, which means that probably her father assumes they will not agree with whatever will be discussed. Maybe she should tattle to her grandmother...
Of course, she has to sneak in, too, invited or not. Judging by the look the dwarf gives her, she certainly is rather not invited.
Ariel doesn't care, this was her home, she will go wherever it pleases her.
Star- and moonlight is shining through the windows, the light the Eldar love so much. Whether Thorin likes it is another question - he seems annoyed, his posture tense and eyes wary. But maybe that is because of Gandalf and Elrond and the issue they are currently debating - about a map in his possession, and the fact that he won't pass it over to her father. Well, his bad, she thinks.
The wizard is getting more and more exasperated by the stubbornness and truly, Ariel would just walk away and let him steam about that. Whatever is on that map, it is clear they need elven help, otherwise they wouldn't have this discussion!
Her father seems to be happy to simply wait them out, so she will follow his lead, for once a silent observer. Just as the hobbit does, who has appeared again, seemingly very awkward in the face of the conflict.
After a moment of hesitation, the dwarf leader slowly pulls out the parchment, then, despite the protest of his white-haired adviser, he hands it to Elrond. Circumstances have forced his hand, and he knows it.
Her father carefully opens the map. The parchment is old, its edges frayed, but the intricate details of the Lonely Mountain and its surroundings are still clearly visible. His eyebrows rise.
"Erebor? What is your interest in this map?"
Ariel almost sighs. It's a stupid question, isn't it? The only thing this dwarf can want is to have the mountain back. It's easy.
"The interest is mainly academic," Gandalf interferes, "since, as you know, these kinds of maps often contain hidden texts."
Ariel can see that Elrond isn't buying any of this, which is very reassuring - but he seems a little amused. Then, he takes the map to walk a couple of steps and hold it into the light.
"Cirth Ithil!" he suddenly exclaims.
"Moon runes - of course!" Gandalf answers, "easy to miss."
"Well, in this case that's quite true," her father confirms, "since moon runes can only be read by a moon the same shape and season as the one under which they were written."
"Can you read them?"
Ariel thinks that if her father were the type, he would have rolled his eyes by now.
It seems the dwarves are extremely, ridiculously lucky, since they have arrived at exactly the perfect time: They need a crescent moon, just like the one almost 200 years ago. So, Elrond takes them to one of the cliffs where the moon can shine down on them undisturbed. It's a beautiful place, and on days like these one can feel the magic in the air. It's an old, primitive sort of magic, old like the trees, and it makes her blood sing and her cheeks become warm. With a deep breath, Elrond unrolls the map again, spreading it carefully on the stone table near the cliff. Ariel feels a sudden surge of excitement and trepidation as soon as the silvery light touches the parchment and signs appear, just as gleaming and beautiful as the light, despite the rather hard edges of the writing style.
Elrond leans forward, his eyes scanning the map with keen interest. Ariel steps closer as well, intrigued, and very aware that she is annoying Thorin. Her father starts reading the ... well, is it a prophecy? A task list? A recommendation? She isn't quite sure.
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."
Maybe it's a manual, then, after all, since the instructions are rather precise.
Maybe it's everything - or nothing. Her mind races as she considers the possibilities.
There is talk about a keyhole, but this map is a key as well, a key to reclaiming a homeland, to restoring honour and hope to Thorin and his people.
"Ada," she says softly, "this is trouble. Big big trouble."
She can see Gandalf frown and prays the dwarves haven't understood her Sindarin words. They don't seem to care though, apparently, because Thorin is far too busy considering the issue of the timing - and he's not wrong, they are a little bit pressed for time, she thinks.
"We still have time!" the white-haired dwarf next to him declares.
"For what?" the hobbit wants to know.
Why is he here again? He is so clueless!
"To find the entrance, of course! To be at the right place at the right time!"
"So that is your purpose then? To enter the mountain?" her father asks. She thinks it's rhetorical.
"What of it?" Thorin retorts. He sounds a bit petulant as he takes back the map.
"There are some who wouldn't deem that wise."
Of course it's bit, not truly, but Ariel also knows they won't care. Truthfully, she can even understand them, that pride, that will to get back what's theirs. If she liked them just a little bit more, she would even find it noble. She doesn't, though.
Besides, just for a moment, there is a gleam of something else and very familiar in the dwarf lord's eyes, and it scares her - because she has only seen it twice. Once on a mad dragon girl, and once in the mirror. Each time, death followed.
~ 0 ~
In the moonlight, her father and the wizard shuffle up the stone stairs with the young elleth hot on their heels. Robes and her dress are swishing over the floor and damn she should have brought a cloak. Well, too late now.
"These dwarves will march, with or without our help!" Mithrandir declares, slightly frustrated, "they are making their way towards the Mountain, determined to reclaim their homeland!"
Ariel bites her tongue lest she argue a mountain is hardly a land - that's not the point, she reminds herself.
"I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels he has to justify himself to anyone," the wizard goes on, "so, for that matter, do I!"
Well, with all his wisdom, what does he know?
They reach one of the highest platforms of Imaldris, the one with the prettiest view and the hardest to get to - good for councils, lest one sees who comes close and cannot easily be overheard. Also great for making out, if Glorfindel is a reliable source. It's dark and almost gloomy now, despite the moonlight that is still floating down on them - but the columns throw shadows, deep ones, great hiding places, and Ariel is glad about the dagger hidden in her dress. Just in case.
Her father turns towards the other man, and she can see his expression in the light - it's serious, though there is also a wry sort of amusement in it.
"It is not me who you have to answer to."
He nods towards the circular place, more precisely, to a space between two pillars. A figure stands with the back to the group, tall and regal, blond, long hair cascading down over a grey cloak. There is no mistaking who it is, especially since the only other elleth with that sort of build and long golden hair is currently standing behind them in a red dress and trying not to grin about this dramatic entrance. Damn it, her grandmother certainly knows how to make an impression.
She can see the small shiver that is going through the wizard - a common reaction of anyone who meets her. Still, that she can do that to a Maia is more than impressive.
He steps forward. "Lady Galadriel."
"Mithrandir. It has been a long time."
She seems serious, but Ariel would bet she's not. The wizard bends his head in reverence -good for you, grandmother- Ariel thinks, he never does that to me.
"Age might have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lórien."
Gandalf, seven hells, stop flirting, I am cold. We all know she is stunning.
Her grandmother's lips quirk up as she looks at him and for a moment, she looks so young, so approachable. Suddenly, her voice fills Ariel's head, and it takes everything in her not to flinch in surprise.
You are thinking very loudly, granddaughter. Though I am flattered by your assessment.
"I have no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you," Gandalf goes on.
Her father shakes his head.
"He didn't," a voice calls out of the shadows, and Ariel can see the wizard's face become stone.
For a moment, his eyes wander and catch hers, since she is still halfway hidden behind her father. The look can only be translated as "I am not amused" in Sindarin, though it is rather a "what the fuck" in the Common Tongue of Westeros, and yes, Ariel has to agree, because she isn't happy about that either. Then, Mithrandir turns around, bows.
"Saruman!"
"You've been busy of late, my friend!"
He just shrugs, not yet ready to admit to everything, but then the white wizard finally looks at Ariel.
"If you were so kind to have an eye on Imladris while the council is at work, it would be a great help."
It's a dismissal if she has ever heard one, and despite the way he asks it's still rude - because this is her home, he can't just make her leave like that and assign her a job in a place he has no authority over. She smiles politely.
"Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor are fully informed and have everything under control. I am currently not needed."
The wizard looks at Lord Elrond, as if she suddenly didn't exist anymore.
"This is no place for a child."
Ariel chortles. She might be young, but she is not a child, and she might not have fancy powers or a pretty magic ring - she isn't even a queen anymore - but she wants to hear what they are saying!
"She stays."
Lady Galadriel's voice doesn't allow any contradiction and the wizard seems to realise it, too, since he sighs and takes a seat, but doesn't comment further.
Hannon le.
You're welcome.
Ariel slinks into the shadow while the usual chitchat starts - she is surprised to see that the morning is already slowly dawning when they finally get to the point. Apparently, the feast and council with Thorin had been going on longer than she had realized.
"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" Saruman asks.
Gandalf looks at him, seemingly tired - well, it has been a long couple of weeks for him, Ariel guesses.
"No -" he almost stumbles over his words, "I am simply doing what I think is right."
"The dragon," Lady Galadriel suddenly starts, turning back towards the group, "it has long been on our mind."
Ariel feels as if she has been punched in her gut. Damn it, that dragon! A memory she has almost managed to ignore until now, until they addressed it directly. For a moment, her arm seems to burn again, right from her fingertips and up, until pain is licking over her shoulder blade. Well, yes, somehow that damn animal has long been on HER mind, too.
"This is true, my lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, the dragon could be used to terrible effect."
Well, he isn't wrong. Absolutely not - though Saruman firmly denies there even exists something like an enemy at all. He claims he has been defeated, but Ariel isn't so sure. Haven't they just been talking for ages about rising darkness? Is he deaf? Does he think delusion is a solution?
Truth be told, she thought that too, once upon a time, until a grubby Northerner brought her a wright. Maybe she should bring Saruman a huge spider, then.
And the thing about the dwarven rings... other than Saruman, their disappearance does worry Ariel, because obviously she doesn't trust dwarves, but she trusts lost magical items even less so. His pretty lines about The One Ring don't calm her down at all - because it exists, and therefore, it can become a problem.
Or a chance - a quiet voice in her whispers.
"For four hundred years we have lived in peace. A watchful, hard-won peace," her father comments.
She looks at him incredulously.
400 years ago, nana was hurt by orcs. Since then, we have been hunting. Ada, you just came back from slaying orcs. That is not peace, not even a watchful one. In peace, you don't get your sword arm burnt by a dragon.
"Hardly a prelude to war," he answers, if a bit reluctantly.
The wizards seem a bit confused, but the lady just continues the slow circles she has been walking. She is a bit like a bird of prey, Ariel thinks, albeit a beautiful one. Like a white hawk, now without the grey coat. With a smile, she nods towards the other, younger elleth.
"Let her speak."
"There is something at work. Something powerful. I can see it here, and I can see it at Mirkwood. It is no longer called Greenwood, since a sickness has befallen it. Spiders and other dark creatures are on the rise. From what I have heard, patrols have encountered it, too, just outside the protection of Lórien. It will not be ignoring us, even if we decide to remain blind to it."
"They say...," Gandalf goes on.
"Yes? What do the Woodelves say?"
Saruman's tone tells her he doesn't think much of King Thranduil and his people. It makes her bristle.
"They say a necromancer has made his home in Dol Guldur. A sorcerer, who can summon the dead."
Well, that's a new information. A shiver runs over her spine as she thinks about dark nights and rising dead and suddenly, she is very happy about the white lady who has appeared next to her like a warm glowing star.
"That is absurd!" Saruman argues, "nothing like that exists in this world. It is just a mortal man, dabbling in black magic."
"I thought so, too. But Radagast -"
"Don't speak of Radagast. You cannot take Radagast seriously!"
"I admit, he is a little bit odd. And solitary..."
"It's not his solitary life I oppose to. It's the excessive consumption of mushrooms, which haver certainly altered and messed with his wits! It's unbefitting..."
The voices drone on, but Ariel focuses on the grey wizard. He finds the elven lady's eyes, and she is sure they are talking, just the two of them. She must have given a command, because suddenly, he pulls an object out of the depth of his coat. Both Ariel and her father step closer.
"What is that?" Elrond wants to know.
He moves to touch it, but Lady Galadriel's words make him pause.
"A relic of Mordor."
When he flips the cloth away, a Morgul Blade is revealed, sharp and spiky and disturbingly similar in shape to her own sword, if a hundred times more menacing.
"Made for the Witch King of Angmar. But it was buried with him. When Angmar fell, the Men of the North took him and everything he possessed and buried it, in the deepest darkest tomb."
"A powerful spell lies upon the grave," her father argues, "it cannot be opened."
Well, obviously that has been done!
She looks at the sword again. The Witch King - she has heard of him, of course, the elves have fought against him, though that was before her time. The blade isn't rusted and doesn't look ancient at all though, but there is certainly an old feeling about it. However, if it is such a cruel blade, why does it feel as if it is singing to her?
"What proof do we have?" Saruman argues and interrupts her musings.
"I have none," Gandalf has to admit.
"Because there is none!" To her eyes, the white wizard sounds far too gleeful, "just... let us look at the facts. A single Orc pack has crossed across the Bruinen."
Wrong
"A dagger, from a bygone age has been found."
Simplified
"And a human sorcerer, calling himself the necromancer, has taken up residence in a ruined fortress. That's not so much after all. The question of this dwarfish company however, troubles me deeply."
Why?
"I do not think it can be done. I would have speared them the disappointment."
What is his problem?
He talks and talks, but once again, Gandalf and Lady Galadriel trade looks. This time though, she is included in the conversation.
They are leaving.
He shrugs a little.
Yes.
You knew.
Yes.
Ariel's lips quirk up, just as a very stressed Lindir bursts onto the scene.
"My Lord Elrond! The dwarves - they are gone!"
