Calm The Fire

01

The dwarf-King sat with his son to the left, and his grandson to the right, three pairs of eyes looked towards the tall, slender figures who seemed to shine within the low light. The six figures eventually came to a stop in their finery. Regardless of them being clothes to travel in, they were still created with such skill that how could there be a difference between these and the others they bought with them? The air was silent, it wasn't like the elves had even made a footfall, it was as if they had merely glided along to come to stand before the King under the Mountain.

Not encountering many elves, Thorin couldn't be the more curious of the three. He leaned to the side slightly to come to rest beside his grandfather more. "This is most unexpected." He said quietly, and guardedly, mainly because he did not know how well the small group could hear him, even though he was basically whispering.

Believing his grandson was mainly hinting at the fact that the Elvenking was present within the group, Thrór flicked his eyes briefly to Thorin. "Interesting choice of words. Care to explain?" He was interested in the answer that would be given.

The fact that the elves seemed to give off this unearthly radiant glow, Thorin couldn't help but find himself frowning a little. He shrugged, "They're different to us." He stated, earning a raised eyebrow from Thrór. Thorin kept his voice low, he didn't want to offend anyone. "Our walls are made of stone, from mountains. It is cold, it is confined. They live in open woodlands." Thrór gave a low, slow nod at that. "I never believed any elf would wish or want to come here. It's the opposite to what they know."

Reaching up and placing a hand gently against his grandson's shoulder, Thrór nodded again. "To find yourself within an unknown place, within surroundings completely opposite to what is your norm is a small price to pay, is it not?" He sounded thoughtful as Thorin looked confused. "To pay respects, from one monarch to another." Thorin still looked a little confused, yet more edging on thoughtful now as he stood there watching his grandfather sigh. "Thorin, there will come a time where you will understand what it is I am saying. You still have so much to learn."

Deciding it best not to say anything more, Thorin nodded. He would concede to agree with his grandfather, his King. Slowly his blue eyes flicked back to the group, four appeared to be guards who were at the rear of the group. Their armour caught the light within the cavernous room, glinting lowly within the torchlight as their faces remained impassive. The head of the group was lead by a tall figure, clothed in silver robes with a calm expression etched onto his face as he looked at the dwarves before him. His long blonde hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. His pale blue eyes looked them all over before flicking upwards.

The Arkenstone caused his head to tilt a little, in curiosity perhaps? The pointed branches of his crown remained unmoving upon his head as he set his head straight again. There was no way to confuse this figure as anyone else but Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm. It seemed like an equal assessment as the two sets looked back at each other. Thorin especially seemed to intently stop staring to get distracted by a smaller cloaked figure to Thranduil's side.

Slightly smaller, shorter rather, than the rest it was a mystery. The hood of the cloak had remained up too, which added to the air of mystery really. Thorin's eyes lingered on that figure longer than perhaps it should've, because when he finally moved his eyes away, they caught those of Thranduil. The icy stare did nothing but cause Thorin to straighten his back and stare back. The slightest twitches of the Elvenking's eyebrow showed that he was perhaps a little amused by the small act of defiance, after all, there wasn't many who withstood his stare without reacting somehow.

"I welcome you all to Erebor," Thrór's voice was kind in greeting, echoing slightly in the stone room as he lifted his hands in an action of welcoming. "We are honoured to have you and your company here, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood." Thrór said, deciding to opt for the other name in which the elf's kingdom was known as, due to whisperings of something foul slowly starting to grow within the trees.