mithril

XIV.

"I have always admired your courage, child. Do not let your stubbornness kill you quite yet."

I dip my head and step away from him. Thranduil's kind words were a rare thing to hear. In the summers I spent in his Realm, I heard them seldom. But I remember the long, warm nights with a regal king who wasn't above kneeling to braid the hair of a small human girl. He was kind when he saw fit, and I respected him for it.

I leave the tent without a backward glance, my limbs suddenly alight with a sudden fervor. I hurry through the streets of Dale without pausing until I reach the house I share with Bard and his family on most nights. I gather my remaining daggers, stashing the blades into my outfit before slipping back into the streets. I pray silently that my path will not cross Bard's as I quietly press into the shadows of Dale.

All around the city, the men are preparing for battle. There is the steady murmur of voices at the center of the buildings, Bard's familiar baritone rising above the others as he calls out commands. Most of the Lake-town villagers are gathered around him, and I find my path through Dale empty and quiet as I leave its streets.

In the dark of the night beyond Dale, without the light of the flickering torches reaching me, the shadows are plentiful. It's easy to go undetected in the moonless expanse as I use the terrain to my advantage. I flit from rock pile to rock pile, blending into the earth as I avoid the open areas of the plain. The thick clouds are working to my advantage this night, hiding the wan moon and bringing the taste of snow to my senses.

I pause at the broken bridge before the great wall of Erebor, glancing back at the flickering lights of Dale. I hear nothing from the city at this distance, even if I strain my ears. I wonder if Bard has been hailed of my absence yet. I wonder what his reaction will be. Will he be angry? Will he know that Thranduil sent me?

I look down into the murky water below the bridge. The dark current sits stagnant against the rocks, stilled as the stones were felled by the Dwarves. Perhaps it moved once, but in this frigid air the water is sluggish as it starts to freeze. I do my best to nimbly cross the stream without the water splashing up around me before I crane my neck and assess the massive wall of Erebor.

Scalable, but I have never been a skilled climber. It will be tricky. Carefully, I start to work my way up the wall. My fingers and toes find groove after groove, slowly ascending until I reach a ledge I can rest my entire weight on without fear. From this elevated height, I can see Dale better. It glows warm and inviting, alive once more with inhabitants. The thought of the comforting fires that burn steadily in the hearths of the town makes me sigh longingly. The cold winter wind lashes my face as I press against the wall, bringing the beginnings of a snow flurry with it. My exposed fingers are numb from the frigid air. A fire would certainly be welcome at this moment.

I begin the rest of my climb with shivering limbs, fighting the chill that seeps into my bones. I reach the top of the ramparts, falling over the top and resting on the ground for a long moment. I relish as I escape the wind, relaxing against the stone before rising.

No one is on watch, but I can hear voices echoing through the deep and magnificent halls of this Mountain Realm. My eyes take in the giant caverns. The hewn rock, carved with such detail and care. I hadn't known this kind of work was possible on such a massive scale. My fingers drag across carved columns, down smooth railings. Deep into Erebor I travel, following the echoes. Torches flicker in sconces, guiding my way. When I reach a set of hallways where the voices are the loudest, I pause.

The Dwarves cry out, hoisting weapons as I appear in the passage. All except Thorin, who stares at my hooded figure. He tenses, but does not react. I lift a hand and push the cowl away from my face. The torchlight dances across my vision, bathing everything I see in a warm orange cast. He relaxes at the sight of me.