13. | I WILL NEVER BE SATISFIED
Bard rides towards Erebor, his lone statue a strange sight on the wasteland.
"You know it is futile," Thranduil says, watching Bard. "Thorin will not part with a single penny."
I shake my head, determined that he would be wrong. "To save the other dwarves, he would. He has. He will."
Thranduil smiles slightly, as my own horse steps forward, to stand inline with his own. "I'm glad you came to your senses, and left that ridiculous company."
I gape, shocked. "What do you mean?"
He gives me a look, perhaps searching to see whether I am mocking him, or just stupid. "You don't belong with the dwarves, or the men," he says, seriously. "You belong with the elves."
I shake my head. "I belong with the men, with my mother."
Thranduil almost looks amused as he glances at me, his eyes alight. "The elves are your kin, not the men."
I am confused. What does he mean by that? Are all elves this cryptic? "My mother was a woman. That makes me part man." I stress - surely he knows this already? What is his point?
"Was she?"
I splutter, shocked. Of course she was, who else would she be? Unless.. "No," I declare, certain. "I remember her clearly, she was my mother!"
Thranduil eyes me, perhaps taking note of all my features. "You're more elf than human, anyone can see it. If there was any human blood in you, it's tiny."
Now he is being ridiculous, trying to turn me against the men. I won't fall for it this time, I know he is only trying to change my loyalty. If it worked with the dwarves, it won't now.
Bard rides forward, looking crestfallen, anxious, furious and confused, all at once, somehow. "He will give us nothing."
I gape, heartbroken. Has Thorin truly succumbed to his madness then? For this is insane. Why is he committing mass suicide for a handful of gems?
"Such a pity," Thranduil sighs, pleased. "Still, you tried."
"I don't understand," Says Bard, mirroring my thoughts. "Why? Why would he risk war?"
I would not call it war, honestly. Fourteen dwarves against an army of elves, they would be killed instantly. Unless Thorin had an army of his own, this could not be called a war. Unless... I wonder. Everyone would know that Thorin had reclaimed the mountain, and that Smaug was dead. Would that be enough for the other dwarves to come here? Even without the Arkenstone?
"We attack at dawn! Are you with us?" Thranduil asks, drawing his sword. I eye Bard, for it is his decision.
Bard agrees quickly, perhaps knowing that his people will not survive without aid. It does not matter who it comes from, the elves, the dwarves.
And so the people of Laketown begin to prepare for war, sharpening their swords and learning how to fight and to shoot. Part of me wishes to train with them, but I am lucky enough to be included in Thranduil and Bard's own war council.
Thranduil and I both stay in the tent for the majority of our time, drinking the wine. If I am to live through the next few days, I will need much more alcohol. Thranduil seems to agree, so together we drink our problems away, without so much as a word to each other. The other elves are probably laughing at us secretly.
Suddenly Bard strides in, with Gandalf, who looks filthy and damaged, from wherever he's been. I stand to greet him, and almost fall over , slightly drunk. "Gandalf!"
He smiles slightly, if not pityingly. "You look well, Raelyn."
I try to think of a witty comment, but my tipsy brain is unable to think of a reply, so i just sit back down, drinking some more wine.
"You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You're ALL in mortal danger!" Says Gandalf immediately, without even a greeting to Thranduil. It effectively sobers me up, as I listen, wide eyed.
"What are you talking about?" Asks Bard, still confused. I'm glad he asks these questions, because otherwise I would have to.
"I can see you know nothing of wizards. They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm." Replies Thranduil, pouring an entire bottle of wine into a glass. I should try that.
"Let him speak," I snap, listening to Gandalf. He is the only one who may have answers, and the only person I trust, here.
"Thank you. Not this time. Armies of orcs are on the move. And these are fighters! They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength."
"Our enemy?" I frown. "Who's that again?"
Thranduil seems to know whom he speaks of, and Bard doesn't care. "Why show his hand now?"
"Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor; Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, its strategic position."
Gandalf leads us out of the tent, as we stand, watching the mountain. How can one mountain be worth so much? Is it really worth all this trouble?
"This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall!"
Angmar? Didn't Legolas say that the orcs hunting Thorin were bearing that mark? "Is that where Gundabad is?" I ask, tentative.
All three men turn to me, one suspicious, one confused, and one concerned. "You know of this?" Says Gandalf, peering at me.
I nod. "Legolas said that the orcs hunting Thorin bore the mark of Gundabad."
Thranduil shakes his head dismissing his own son so easily. "Coincidence. These orc armies, Mirthrandir- where are they?"
It's a fair question, but Gandalf looks abashed, and confused, and unable to answer. We head back to the tent, and Thranduil drinks even more wine. Elvish tolerance is truly amazing. "Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I'm trying to do?!"
"I think you're trying to save your dwarvish friends. And I admire your loyalty to them, but it does not dissuade me from my course. You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it."
Thranduil exits the tent, barking orders to his soldiers, as Gandalf states after him, hopelessly. "Is there truly an army of orcs?" I whisper, terrified. "Gandalf?"
Gandalf takes a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid there is, my dear."
I take a step closer to Gandalf, nervous. "Gandalf...something happened when the dragon attacked us."
Gandalf snaps back into the present, suddenly alert. "What happened?"
I twitch, uncomfortable. "I don't know...something impossible."
"Tell me exactly what happened," he orders, stern.
"I was falling from the roof of a tower," I whisper, I'm case an elf should hear me. "I should've died. It was so far."
"But you didn't," Gandalf says.
I shake my head. "No. It was strange. I felt nothing. Nothing at all."
Gandalf shifts in his chair, sheepish. "There's something you need to know-"
A few elves march in, holding Bilbo, as Thranduil and Bard follow. My mouth drops. "Bilbo!"
Gandalf begins to smile, our conversation forgotten already.
We stand around the table, watching Bilbo curiously.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards." Says Thranduil, drinking more wine.
Bilbo shifts, looking at the ground and twiching his nose. "...yes. Sorry about that."
Bard looks vaguely impressed, and Gandalf smiles. It feels like so long ago.
We stare at each other for a while, before Bilbo reaches into his pocket. "I came to give you this." He unwraps the package, and there is a flowing white stone, as if it's made of pure light, it sparkles and flows. The whole room seems brighter, as if it is equal to only the moon.
"The heart of the mountain. The kings jewel."
"And worth a king's ransom. How is this yours to give?"
"I took it as my fifteenth share of the treasure." Thorin will kill him for this, I think. He has to run, but I know that Bilbo will never agree to that.
"Why would you do that? You owe us no loyalty."
"I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive...with the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they also brave and kind...and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can. Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war!"
It's a good plan, and very selfless. The only problem is how angry Thorin will be, and with whom. Bilbo needs to hide.
Gandalf seems to agree with my idea, as he takes Bilbo by the arm, leading him out into the snow. Hopefully, he will talk some sense into the hobbit. As much as I want to finish my conversation with Gandalf, it's late, and k have no chance of surviving tomorrow if I am half drunk or hungover, so I take myself to bed, sleeping instantly.
Armies of elves are not to be messed with, I muse, as I watch the elves line up in perfect formation. They scare me, honestly.
Bard, Thranduil and I sit upon horseback. I have no idea why I was offered a horse, as I don't lead either of the people here, but I was grateful to take it, though if it does come to war, I will have to abandon it somewhere. I can't fight on horseback.
Gandalf has warned me the Bilbo is safely back asleep, and I don't know what Gandalf is doing. Sometimes I prefer not to know. Bearing in mind his warning, I grabbed as many elvish blades as I could. I don't know how many more knives or swords I could take, honestly.
The Lonely Mountain is an imposing figure, but less so from up close. The most intimidating thing about it is the dwarf who stands above the blockade, dressed in the most ridiculous kings Ribes, staring at us in disgust. He doesn't even acknowledge me, and I'm not sure what hurts more: being ignored or being hated.
Suddenly an arrow sprouts itself in front of Thranduil's stag, as the deer backs up a little, nervous. "I will put the next one between your eyes!"
The dwarves cheer heartedly, as I roll my eyes. This is ridiculous, does he think Thranduil will respond to his baiting?
Well, Thranduil does respond, as his heat tilts slightly, a movement so small I wouldn't notice without watching. The elves behind us draw and load this bows in one fluid motion, as all the dwarves but Thorin duck behind the wall. Thorin keeps his bow drawn as he stares at Thranduil, before the elves put away their bows again.
"We've come to tell you: payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted."
"What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!" He truly had gone mad then. I had believed that he could be returned to sanity, but this is insane. Why is he acting like this? It's nothing like Thorin. Was my initial assumption correct? Has he called for aid?
"We have this." Bard says, pulling out the Arkenstone.
Thorin gapes, horrified.
"They have the Arkenstone? Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!" Kili shouts.
"And the king my have it- with our goodwill. But first he must honour his word."
"The Arkenstone is in this mountain! It is a trick!" Thorin shouts, suddenly. Even the dwarves beside him look surprised, and confused. This madness- he will get himself killed by tomorrow. Someone needs to helps him, or do something!
"It's not trick. The stone is real. I have not to them." A familiar voice says, very far from where he's supposed to be.
"Bilbo?" I gasp, shocked and worried. He'll be killed!
"I took it as my fifteenth share."
I wince.
"You would steal from me?"
"Steal from you? No. No. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one. I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."
"Against your claim?! Your claim! You have no claim over me you miserable rat!"
"Thorin," I say, my voice barely enough to be heard. "That's enough. Please stop, this is madness." He turns, having heard me, as he glares, and spits, before turning back to Bilbo. I blink back tears as a few of the dwarves send me concerned glances.
"You are changed, Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"
"Do not speak to me of loyalty! Throw him from the rampart!"
My horse surges forward at my command, as I yell, horrified. "No!"
The other dwarves refuse, stepping away from Bilbo. Thorin only looks angrier. As he grabs Bilbo's arm, pulling him harshly towards the edge. "I will do it myself!"
"Stop it!" I cry, futilely. This isn't fault,no should have stayed with Bilbo to make sure he didn't do...anything.
"If you don't like my burgalar-" Gandalf appears, striding through the elvish armies. He looks just as worried as I do. "Then please don't damage him. Return him to me! You're not making a very splendid figure as king under the mountain, are you? Thorin son of Thrain!"
Thorin allows the other dwarves to pry Bilbo from his hands, as he turns to Gandalf. "Never again will I have dealings with wizards, or shire rats! Or elves!"
Bilbo begins to climbs down, looking a little unsteady. The dwarves watch him, concerned.
"Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised."
Thorin seems to stare into the distance as he breathes heavily. "What's he looking for?" I whisper, terrified. Is he in league with the orcs?
"Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?"
Thorin smiles slightly, yelling. "I will have war!"
And then another army descends.