Miranda's POV
I awoke to the sound of a horse galloping into camp and men yelling as they jumped out of the way. I got up out of the cot and made my way into the main tent just in time to hear Gandalf's voice say, "You are all in mortal danger." I listened outside, although I already knew what they were talking about.
"What are you talking about?" Bard's voice filtered into my ears.
"I can see you know nothing of wizards." Thranduil said, it sounded as if he had poured some liquid into a cup. "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."
"Not this time," Gandalf spoke, his voice ruff. "Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters, they have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength."
I walked into the tent and three pairs of eyes rested on me. "The orcs of Dol Guldur are coming, yes?" I asked. The three of them stared at me. "What?"
"You have not been standing there long enough to know that," Bard said, looking at me suspiciously.
"I have known it since long before I ever arrived in Laketown or Mirkwood," I said looking at Bard and Thranduil in turn. "Or even before the quest even started," I looked pointedly at Gandalf.
"Like mother like daughter," Gandalf said, looking as though he could not decide if he was pleased or cross.
"Why would he show his hand now?" Thranduil asked, looking me over with curiosity.
"Because we forced him." Gandalf said. "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 gold, but for its strategic position."
"This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar," I said looking carefully at Thranduil's stoic expression.
Gandalf looked slightly annoyed that I interrupted him, and he continued, "If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall."
Thranduil fixed him with a hard stare, "These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir, where are they?"
I looked between the two, how much would the future change if I were to tell them? I began to chew on my lower lip, Bard noticed my reaction. He furrowed his brows and spoke, "You know."
My brows knitted with worry, and I bit my lip so hard it split. The metallic taste entered my mouth and filled my nose. Thranduil and Gandalf both turned to look at me. "Where are they?" Thranduil asked.
I wrung my hands as I looked across their faces. "Do you remember what is under the mountain?" I asked.
"Under the mountain?" Bard asked, confusion written all over his face.
A look of realization flashed across Gandalf's face. "Earth-eaters."
"Even if what you say is true, Earth-eaters, or as they are also known, were-worms are so hard to control," Thranduil said. "I doubt they will make it here." Thranduil fixed me with a hard stare. "After all, sometimes a storm is just a storm and a dream is just a dream."
That answered my earlier question at least, I had yet to change the future at all.