Chapter Text
It was late the next morning when Bard’s runner returned to the camp bearing the news that Thorin had agreed to another meeting – but on the condition that those who came would be few in number and weaponless.
‘It is not an unreasonable request,’ Thranduil replied when Bard asked for his thoughts on the last stipulation. ‘And they would scarce attempt any violence towards us when a whole host stands ready to exact retribution should we come to any harm.’
On the subject of the size of the delegation to depart it was Gandalf who suggested twenty would be a sufficient number.
‘There are thirteen dwarves within Erebor,’ he said, ‘you would not wish to greatly outnumber them and have Thorin believe you sought to intimidate him during the meeting with a show of strength.’
And so it was that when the sun was at its zenith a small company set forth towards the entrance of the Mountain. The banners of the Elvenking and the Lake were borne proudly at the head of the group, which was comprised of nearly an equal mix of Elves and Men. Gandalf and Bard were mounted on horses, whilst Thranduil rode upon Horthien, a great elk of Voronwë’s bloodline.
There was little conversation as the company made their way towards the narrow path that led to the Gate, and Thranduil was content for the long periods of silence to remain unbroken. He had a feeling there would be more than enough words spoken at the end of their journey when they reached Thorin.
As he rode slightly apart from his companions (their horses having protested being nudged by Horthien’s great antlers) the Elvenking’s mind turned to the issue of Legolas’ absence. Not a word had been received from his son since he had ridden North with Tauriel, and Thranduil hoped the winged messengers he had sent out would soon return with news from him.
‘My King, here is where we must lay aside our weapons.’
The voice of his standard-bearer drew Thranduil’s attention back to the present, and upon observing the narrow way to the Gate, he dismounted and placed not only his swords and concealed dagger on a large stone, but also his oaken staff.
‘O King, the dwarves would surely not object to your keeping hold of your staff,’ Bard said, as he too laid aside his weapons. Then, as Gandalf also put down his staff, he added, ‘Thorin cannot be so unreasonable as to deprive an old man of his walking stick.’
‘The condition is we are to be weaponless,’ Thranduil said calmly. ‘Should the occasion demand it both Mithrandir and I can wield these staffs with deadly force, so to approach the Gate whilst holding them would be a violation of the terms of this meeting.’ And turning to his standard-bearer he ordered him to remain and keep watch over the pile of weapons. ‘Guard them well, Tirithon, and let no hand touch them, save those that belong to their rightful owners.’ Then both he and Bard stood aside to permit Gandalf to walk ahead of them. The wizard, whose identity was hidden beneath a dark hood and cloak, carried a strong casket of iron-bound wood, inside of which the Arkenstone lay concealed.
Approaching the wall of squared stones that lay across the entrance to the Mountain, the company moved slowly until they were within a short distance of it. Then they all halted, with the exception of Bard and Gandalf who continued on until they stood a few paces in front of the others.
‘Hail Thorin!’ cried Bard. ‘Are you still of the same mind?’
Gazing up at the wall, Thranduil’s sharp eyes saw Thorin peering out through one of its holes as the dwarf answered curtly, ‘my mind does not change with the rising and setting of a few suns. Did you come to ask me idle questions? Still the elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with me.’
‘Is there nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?’
‘Nothing that you or your friends have to offer,’ came the dwarf’s arrogant reply.
‘What of the Arkenstone of Thráin?’
With his eyes still focused on what he could see of Thorin through the hole in the wall, Thranduil knew the exact moment Gandalf opened the casket and showed the shining jewel to the dwarves, for Thorin’s eyes widened in astonishment, and his mouth fell open in disbelief.
A long pause then fell with not a single voice to break the silence, and only the sharp ears of the elves could hear the harsh breathing of Thorin as his emotions overwhelmed him. Finally, his voice thick with wrath, Thorin said hotly, ‘that stone was my father’s, and is mine! Why should I purchase my own? But how came you by the heirloom of my house – if there is need to ask such a question of thieves?’
To Thranduil’s eyes the bowman seemed to gather into himself all the pride inherent in one of the line of Girion, Lord of Dale, and declared with great dignity, ‘we are not thieves. Your own we will give back in return for our own.’
‘How came you by it?’ Thorin shouted in a terrible rage.
‘I gave it to them.’
The small, frightened voice sharply drew Thranduil’s attention back to the wall where he could see the pale face of Bilbo Baggins as he peered over the edge.
‘You! You!’ Thorin’s furious outburst was swiftly followed by him seizing the self-confessed thief and shaking him violently. ‘You miserable hobbit! You undersized – burglar! By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!’
And in horrified alarm Thranduil saw he fully intended to carry out his threat. He went to move forward to protest, only to find his intervention was not necessary as Gandalf’s voice boomed out: ‘Stay! Your wish is granted!’ And casting aside his cloak the wizard looked sternly up at Thorin, saying, ‘here is Gandalf! And none too soon it seems. If you don’t like my burglar, please don’t damage him. Put him down, and listen first to what he has to say!’
‘You all seem in league!’ Thorin cried, but to Thranduil’s relief he dropped the honest little hobbit onto the top of the wall. ‘Never again will I have dealings with any wizard or his friends. What have you to say, you descendant of rats?’
In the face of such insult Thranduil could only admire the hobbit’s quiet composure as he retained a civil tone as he said, ‘Dear me! Dear me! I am sure this is all very uncomfortable. You may remember saying that I might choose my own fourteenth share? Perhaps I took it too literally – I have been told that dwarves are sometimes politer in word than in deed. The time was, all the same, when you seemed to think that I had been of some service. Descendant of rats, indeed!’ A spark of indignation now appeared in the hobbit’s voice, although his tone still was quite polite as he asked, ‘is this all the service of you and your family that I was promised, Thorin? Take it that I have disposed of my share as I wished, and let it go at that!’
‘I will, and I will let you go at that – and may we never meet again!’ Thorin announced grimly. Then glaring over the wall at Bard he said resentfully, ‘I am betrayed. It was rightly guessed that I could not forbear to redeem the Arkenstone, the treasure of my house. For it I will give one fourteenth share of the hoard in silver and gold, setting aside the gems; but that shall be accounted the promised share of this traitor, and with that reward he shall depart, and you can divide it as you will. He will get little enough, I doubt not. Take him, if you wish him to live; and no friendship of mine goes with him.’ And turning his fiery eyes back towards Bilbo he commanded, ‘get down now to your friends, or I will throw you down.’
To Thranduil’s surprise he heard the hobbit daringly ask, ‘what about the gold and silver?’
‘That shall follow after, as can be arranged,’ Thorin retorted. ‘Get down!’
‘Until then we keep the stone,’ Bard called out, showing that he placed little trust in the dwarf to honour his word if they relinquished the jewel to him now.
‘You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain,’ Gandalf said as he looked up at Thorin’s dark expression. Closing the lid of the casket he added, ‘but things may change yet.’
‘They may indeed,’ Thorin declared ominously, before casting a scathing glance at Bilbo who was busily scrambling over the wall and calling out his farewells to the other dwarves – even suggesting that they may meet again as friends!
‘Get out of my sight, you faithless wretch! Be off!’ Thorin shouted. ‘You have mail upon you, which was made by my folk, and is too good for you. It cannot be pierced by arrows; but if you do not hasten, I will sting your miserable feet. So be swift!’
‘Not so hasty!’ Bard called out to Thorin, while the hobbit quickly said a last goodbye and scrambled down the rope that had been cast over the wall. ‘We will give you until tomorrow. At noon we will return, and see if you have brought from the hoard the portion that is to be set against the stone. If that is done without deceit, then we will depart, and the elf-host will go back to the Forest. In the meanwhile farewell!’
To this Thorin made no further answer, and Thranduil watched as Bilbo nimbly made his way along the narrow ledge from the mountain-wall to where he and the others were gathered. Gandalf greeted the former companion of Thorin with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, while Bard nodded in a friendly fashion and uttered a few words of praise for his actions. When Bilbo reached Thranduil, the Elvenking smiled warmly, and having observed the shadow of sadness in the hobbit’s eyes, said quite kindly, ‘you possess a good and noble heart, Bilbo Baggins, and once Thorin’s anger has been appeased by the return of the Arkenstone he may yet come to regret his harsh words to you. Now come, I am sure a good meal and a comfortable bed can be found for you within our camp, although it is a poor return for the great service you have performed for us.’
‘Not at all, O King,’ Bilbo said gratefully, ‘I shall be glad of eating something other than cram. I was grateful for it, but after consuming it daily for many days I am heartily sick of the sight of it.’
As he gestured for the hobbit to walk ahead of him Thranduil said, ‘we certainly will not be offering such poor fare to an honoured guest. I believe a form of stew will be the offering this evening.’
Pausing briefly, Bilbo glanced over his shoulder with a hopeful expression. ‘A stew?’ he repeated. ‘A proper hot stew with vegetables and seasoning?’
A glint of humour appeared in Thranduil’s eyes as he said, ‘I have been told that will be our supper; however, I shall have to let you judge the merits of the dish for yourself.’
‘O King, if the food is edible and hot my tongue will declare it the finest of meals this day,’ Bilbo admitted frankly. ‘I will own after this adventure I will never again complain should my fish be slightly dry, or my eggs overcooked.’
To the dwarves listening at the Gate the Elvenking’s merry laugh must have sounded quite odd given what had just transpired.
‘Good Master Hobbit, may you ever be spared having to consume such unappetising morsels,’ Thranduil declared as they reached the location where Tirithon stood guard over the collection of weapons.
It did not take long for each member of the company to rearm themselves, and Thranduil had swiftly mounted his great elk with fluid grace before he turned to see Gandalf and Bard still standing beside their mounts. Bilbo, who looked extremely uncomfortable, stood a short distance away from them. A quick enquiry soon elicited the information from Gandalf that neither horse appeared willing to bear the hobbit on their back – it appeared they found his strange scent rather unsettling.
‘Master Baggins, if the height of Horthien does not bother you, he and I are at your disposal,’ Thranduil offered. ‘He is quite well-mannered, and is not easily disturbed.’
Gazing up at the intimidating sight of the great elk as he towered above him, Bilbo’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. ‘You are very kind,’ he began, casting a quick look towards the camp, ‘but it is not too far a walk –’
‘Stuff and nonsense, Bilbo!’ Gandalf exclaimed. ‘Do not talk such fustian, there’s a good chap. Up with you now, and let us hear no more objections.’
And without much further ado the wizard quickly walked the hobbit over to where Thranduil sat upon his elk and handed him up.
Observing the tense set of Biblo’s shoulders as he sat before him, Thranduil said reassuringly, ‘be at ease, Master Baggins, I often had my son up in front of me when he was of a similar height to yourself, and not once did he ever come to grief.’
‘I do not doubt the care you will take, O King,’ Bilbo answered nervously, ‘it is just that hobbits are generally more accustomed to being closer to the ground.’
‘Then it may aid you to close your eyes for the duration of the journey. I shall tell you when we have reached the camp.’
Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Bilbo gently gripped a handful of the elk’s mane and shut his eyes – and in consequence was completely unaware of the astonishment that greeted their arrival at the camp when the Elves beheld him sitting in front of their king, who had only ever before granted such an honour to his wife and son. Thranduil, who could not avoid observing the surprise in his peoples’ expressions, was not discomposed in the slightest by the looks he received, and called for his aides to attend upon him.
‘Master Baggins, you may reopen your eyes. We are arrived at our destination,’ he said.
With relief evident in his voice Bilbo politely offered his thanks before eagerly making a move to dismount.
‘Why such haste, little one?’ one of the aides cried with a laugh as he stepped forward to assist the hobbit in his endeavour. ‘There are few who have had the privilege of being borne on Horthien’s back, and here you are making with all speed to end the experience.’
‘I believe our new guest is hungry,’ Thranduil said diplomatically, alighting from his mount with greater ease than had Horthien’s other rider. ‘As the hour is not yet come for our evening meal let something be prepared for him, and pray have accommodation made ready so that he may rest.’ And turning towards Bilbo he gave him a small smile, inclined his head in a respectful bow, and took his leave. ‘Your company would be welcome at the gathering that will occur outside my tent once the sun has set,’ he added before departing with Bilbo’s sincere assurances that he would not miss it for all the mushrooms in the Shire. The last comment rather puzzled the Elvenking until Gandalf later explained the deep partiality that hobbits have when it comes to mushrooms.
‘I can honestly say that I have never known another race to have a greater liking for anything,’ Gandalf chuckled. ‘You ought to be extremely honoured, my friend – to have been placed above their highly prized mushrooms is quite a feat indeed.’
While owning that the thought of being held in such regard by the hobbit was quite flattering, Thranduil could not help but be grateful that his son was not there to hear him being told he was more highly thought of than edible fungus; Legolas would certainly never have let that particular compliment pass forgotten into the mists of time!
O * O
The gathering at the Elvenking’s tent that evening was a rather pleasant affair. The Elves and Men who attended, while conscious of the troubles the morrow could bring should Thorin decide not to honour his word, were determined to speak only of more joyous matters – the rebuilding of Dale being the chief topic, and what this could mean for the traffic of goods along the river and through Mirkwood.
For his part, Thranduil found most of his attention given to Gandalf and Bilbo. The hobbit had surprised the king by asking some questions in hesitant Sindarin, and being quite willing to help improve his guest’s knowledge of his beloved language, Thranduil patiently listened to each query, then answered them all in his own elf-tongue – though offering a translation if Bilbo began to look slightly bewildered.
The hour was growing late when the party finally dispersed, and Thranduil watched as all his guests left to seek their beds before seating himself beside the fire outside his tent. Looking up at the stars that twinkled across the black length of the sky, he frowned as a particular constellation made up of seven mighty stars shone with more than its usual brilliance.
Valacirca, he thought, only in times fraught with great trial do you shine so brightly, giving hope to those of the Firstborn of Ilúvatar who gaze upon you in the midst of danger. For what calamity do you now seek to prepare us? Whatever it may be, may your radiance, which Elbereth Gilthoniel wrought out of the silver dews from the vats of Telperion and set in the heavens, ease our minds so that we may greet it with indefatigable strength and clear judgement.
And for the remainder of the night he stayed seated upon his chair outside his tent and stared up at the night sky; his mind finding rest and peace in the pure white light of the stars.
O * O
It was quite early the following morning when a sudden shift brought a strong wind in from the east, and the air was turned dark and gloomy. Thranduil greeted this change with deep misgiving; and when runners came hurriedly to report that a large host of dwarves had appeared round the eastern spur of the Mountain and was now hastening towards Dale, the news found him fully armed and in conference with his aides.
As trumpets called both Men and Elves to arms Thranduil exited his tent, and turning to the south he could see the vanguard of the dwarves as they marched up the valley. Each of the dwarves was clad in a hauberk of steel mail that hung to his knees, and around their legs they wore a hose of fine metal. They were armed with heavy mattocks, which they bore in their hands, and at their side there hung a short broad sword. Across their back was slung a roundshield. Their long beards had been plaited and thrust into their belts; and upon their heads each dwarf wore a cap of iron. Looking at the grim faces of the dwarves Thranduil knew that should a battle commence it would be a long and bloody one, with many losses sustained by all the races involved.
‘They have arrived much sooner than expected,’ Bard exclaimed as he hurriedly ran from his tent to join Thranduil. Gazing to where the dwarves were moving quickly towards the river as it flowed between them and the ruins of Dale, he added, ‘shall they seek to do battle with us immediately do you think?’
‘Let us see what they do when they reach the river,’ Thranduil answered. ‘They may send an envoy to offer a treaty, or they may attempt to continue onward up the eastern bank. Or they may make their own camp and wait a while before deciding on a course of action.’
‘Should they decide to go up the eastern bank they will find it is not as unguarded as they may believe it to be,’ Bard said, and Thranduil knew he referred to the archers and spearmen who had been positioned there on the morning after their arrival.
It was not long before Dáin and his host of dwarves reached the river. But, although the main force halted at its bank, a few of their number held on their way, crossing the body of water where it flowed at its shallowest, and marched towards the camp. Observing them closely, Thranduil watched as the dwarves laid down their weapons before they reached the first sentries and held up their hands in a sign of peace.
‘It would appear they seek a peaceful meeting,’ he informed Bard, and hearing a slight commotion to the right he turned and saw Bilbo dashing towards them. The hobbit was struggling to insert his arm into the empty sleeve of his coat, and panting out apologies for his tardy response to the trumpets call.
‘I know not how I came to sleep through all the noise!’ Bilbo exclaimed. ‘Had Gandalf not come to check on me I would still be slumbering away! What is happening now?’
‘Thorin’s kinfolk have arrived,’ Bard answered, and gestured to where the dwarves stood under the close watch of several men and elves.
The hobbit followed the direction Bard had indicated and Thranduil saw his eyes widen as he beheld the impressive visage of the armed group. ‘Jumping toadstools!’ he cried worriedly. ‘They do look quite fierce. What will we do?’
‘Well, I shall go and meet with them,’ Bard declared. ‘You are welcome to accompany me, Master Hobbit.’
Bilbo hesitated and glanced up at Thranduil. ‘Do you go too, O King?’
Thranduil shook his head. ‘Nay, for my presence shall not be necessary. Dáin’s folk have laid aside their arms, thus announcing they have no violent intent in approaching us at this time. Should both Bard and myself confront them it may only serve to inflame the meeting.’
Bilbo was silent for a moment and then sighed. ‘I will go,’ he said. ‘After all I share responsibility for these events, and I doubt if any of these dwarves will find me a cause for concern.’
Thranduil smiled. ‘If they judge you only by your outer appearance then they will not.’ Then he watched as Bard and Bilbo walked through the camp to go and meet with the dwarves.
The meeting appeared to go well – at first.
Thranduil observed the proceedings closely and heard the exchange of words quite clearly, for a hush had fallen over the camp that allowed all the Elves to hear what was said by both the dwarf-messengers and Bard. The dwarves politely stated they were journeying to join with their kinsmen in the Mountain now that the old kingdom was restored, and questioned the presence of the armed force in the valley. To this Bard announced his cause was just and informed them of it; adding also that he could not permit so heavily an armed force of dwarves to continue onward to the Mountain until the gold and silver promised by Thorin was delivered. At these words the dwarves lost some of their civility and accused the heir of Girion of seeking to fill his own treasure stores by force of arms. It was then that Bard revealed he had in his possession the Arkenstone, and of the terms agreed upon by Thorin for its return.
The revelation that the jewel of Thráin was held by Bard proved to be too much for the dwarves and they turned away furiously to march back to their kin, muttering all the while into their beards.
Bard swiftly returned with Bilbo and ordered his messengers to go at once to the Gate to see if the share of the treasure promised by Thorin was there.
‘I am certain Thorin will make good on his word,’ Bilbo said quietly as he sat with the Elvenking and Bard inside Thranduil’s tent waiting for news. ‘He is most anxious to have the Arkenstone restored to him, and he surely would not do anything that might result in you keeping it.’
‘In their desire to obtain what they long to possess I have found dwarves are capable of being quite unreasonable and rash in their actions,’ Thranduil observed. ‘They also seem to forget with ease any agreement they have made if they deem it not to be advantageous to themselves.’
And sadly when the messengers returned it appeared Thorin had determined he could now rely on his kinfolk to aid him in regaining the Arkenstone without handing over a single piece of the treasure.
The messengers reported they had found no gold or payment at the Gate. Instead they had been greeted with arrows as they approached, with one shaft narrowly missing the ear of the eldest among them.
His anger at Thorin’s actions drew Bard to his feet, but his furious words were forestalled as a great stir arose within the camp outside. Concern quickly replaced Bard’s fury and he hastily exited the tent.
Following after the bowman with Bilbo at his side, Thranduil saw at once what had caused the furore among his people and the Men of the Lake: the dwarves of Dáin were now advancing along the eastern bank up towards the entrance.
‘Fools!’ Bard cried with a laugh, ‘to come thus beneath the Mountain’s arm! They do not understand war above ground, whatever they may know of battle in the mines.’ And turning to Thranduil who now stood beside him, he said, ‘there are many of our archers and spearmen now hidden in the rocks upon their right flank. Dwarf-mail may be good, but they will soon be hard put to it. Let us set on them now from both sides, before they are fully rested!’
His eyes shadowed with the memory of fierce battles fought against another race of dwarves, and which had cost the lives of so many of his dearest friends, Thranduil’s voice was firm as he declared: ‘Long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold. The dwarves cannot pass us, unless we will, or do anything that we cannot mark. Let us hope still for something that will bring reconciliation.’ Turning to look back at the dwarves as they moved grimly ahead, he sighed as he added, ‘our advantage in numbers will be enough, if in the end it must come to unhappy blows.’
‘But surely it is best to attack them now before they gain too secure a position near the Mountain,’ Bard protested. ‘As you say, we have the advantage with our greater numbers, and we could swiftly defeat them.’
‘Do not be so eager to engage these dwarves in battle,’ Thranduil cautioned. ‘You would still suffer the loss of many men, and I will not –’
The twang of numerous bows, followed by the harsh whistle of arrows flying through the air, had Thranduil abruptly falling silent; and turning sharply towards the direction of the dwarves he saw they had changed course, and were now following the path taken by their arrows across the river to engage the host of men and elves in battle.
‘SPEARMEN TO THE FORE!’
At their king’s shouted command the Elves leapt to obey and ran swiftly to form a strong defensive line against the marching dwarves.
Gazing down at the hobbit beside him, Thranduil bade him to make for the watch-post on Ravenhill. ‘A battlefield is no place for you, Master Baggins,’ he said urgently, and he called his great elk to him. ‘Horthien shall bear you, for you must make haste.’
A shadowy darkness suddenly fell over the land, blocking out the golden light of the sun. Looking up, Thranduil saw a large black cloud moving with dreadful swiftness across the sky. The menacing rumble of thunder growled loudly as a wild wind blew fiercely through the valley. Lightning lit the peak of the Mountain, and then in the midst of all the noise a voice rang out with commanding authority.
‘Halt!’
‘That was Gandalf!’ Bilbo gasped, and attempted to peer through the great crowd that had gathered about him.
Thranduil, whose tall height permitted him to easily see over the heads of both the men and elves, glanced to where the wizard now stood alone with his arms uplifted, between the two opposing forces.
‘HALT!’
The thundering command came again, and was followed with a blazing flash of light from the wizard’s staff.
‘Dread has come upon you all! Alas, it has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dáin, whose father you slew in Moria. Behold, the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves, and Wargs are in their train!’
At these words from Gandalf a chill went through Thranduil’s heart, and a sudden dread came upon him.
Legolas went to the north!
The thought repeated itself inside his mind, and he was deaf to the cries of dismay from his own people, and the deep-throated yells from the dwarves as they halted and gazed up at the sky.
It was only when he felt a small hand tug on his right bracer that he was drawn out of the horrifying images swirling inside his head, and he glanced down to look at the hobbit who was frowning at him in concern.
‘O King, Gandalf has called for a council,’ Bilbo said. ‘The dwarves have laid aside their arms and Dáin is coming to join with us.’
A brief look informed Thranduil the hobbit spoke truly, and in a tightly controlled voice he said, ‘I thank you for your timely words, Bilbo Baggins. Let us go at once.’
The council was conducted swiftly, and all prior disagreements were laid aside as Gandalf, Bard, Dáin and Thranduil carefully made their plans.
‘The ravens knew not of the enemy’s coming until they came out in the broken lands which divide the Mountain from the hills in the North,’ Gandalf said. ‘The goblins must have travelled through underground tunnels, and under the cover of darkness to conceal so great a force from our winged friends. We have not much time before they will come upon us.’
‘How large is their company?’ Dáin asked grimly.
‘It is a vast host and comprises many from their various strongholds,’ Gandalf informed him, and turning to Thranduil he said, ‘even your numbers will not be sufficient to withstand them for long in open battle. They need to be contained within the valley.’
‘Then a trap is our only option,’ Thranduil observed. ‘If we lure them into the valley between the arms of the Mountain, and have our archers target them with numerous volleys, we may decrease their numbers substantially. Fortunately, the arrows of my archers rarely miss their target.’
‘But what if they come also from above?’ Bard said worriedly. ‘They may scale up the other side of the Mountain and descend upon us unawares.’
‘That is a risk we shall have to take,’ Gandalf declared. ‘There is not time to make any other plan, or to summon more help. Now, your positions. Thranduil –’
‘I and the main body of my host shall take the Southern spur,’ the Elvenking said firmly. ‘The path to the valley is more treacherous from there, which my people can cover with greater skill than either man or dwarf. After the enemy appears in the valley, and the archers have performed their task, we shall also take the first charge.’
Thranduil’s last words were said so coldly, and with such deadly intent that Dáin did not even raise an objection.
‘Then Bard, you and Dáin shall have your people position themselves on the Eastern spur,’ Gandalf ordered. ‘Now let us go.’ But suddenly he paused and glanced at Bilbo who stood silently off to the side. ‘My dear Bilbo, what am I to do with you? There is no time to send you away, and there is no place nearby where you would be safe. Do you wish to join Bard and the dwarves?’
As all attention shifted towards him the hobbit stepped forward and said bravely, ‘I am prepared to help fight against the goblins, but with no offence to the good men of the Lake, or the stalwart dwarves from the Iron Hills, I would rather do so in defence of the Elvenking.’ And turning to Thranduil he bowed, and drawing the small blade at his side, he announced, ‘I have a sword, O King, which is yours to command. Please, accept my service, if you will.’
His heart touched by the gesture, Thranduil said, ‘you will make a fine and noble addition to my ranks, Master Baggins. Come, I will take your offer, and you shall join me on Ravenhill.’ Lightly touching the hobbit’s curly hair in blessing, he tactfully did not point out that the blade being offered was in fact a knife. ‘Mithrandir, shall you accompany us?’
The wizard nodded.
‘Now that is sorted, let us seek our places,’ Bard said, and calling out to his men he instructed them to make for the Eastern Spur of the Mountain. Dáin’s deep voice followed shortly afterwards, urging his folk to quickly do the same.
As Horthien came up beside him and nudged his arm with his great nostrils, Thranduil swiftly gave the orders for the elf-host to retreat to the lower slopes and rocks at the feet of the Southern spur.
‘All are to hold until I give the order to attack,’ he told Eraisuithan as he leapt up on the elk’s back. Relinquishing his staff to the aide, he said, ‘have one of the standard-bearers take charge of this. I shall need both of my swords for this fight.’ Then turning his eyes towards Bilbo who was slightly pale and seated in front of Gandalf on the wizard’s fidgeting horse, he said, ‘take heart, young hobbit, our friend Mithrandir will ensure you are safely positioned within our ranks. May Elbereth watch over you, and may any enemy you encounter feel the sting of your blade.’
Unaware of which of his words had put a slight glint of humour in the hobbit’s eyes, Thranduil could only be grateful the greenish tinge to the small one’s skin had faded. He gave Bilbo a brief warm smile before he turned away and urged his mount to make with all speed towards the feet of the Southern spur.
As Horthien galloped farther and farther across the dry and barren land Thranduil’s gaze was drawn to the northwest where the border of his realm lay in the far distance, and his expression grew sombre.
Legolas, my son, where are you? he thought desperately. Did you encounter the vile creatures that now descend upon us? Do you lie wounded, or perhaps even – No! You cannot be lost to me, my son. My spirit would surely know if such a fate befell you, wouldn’t it? My heart aches for news of you, and gladly would I suffer any injury in this coming battle if it meant I would be assured your safe return to me. Please, Legolas, I lost your mother to these foul beasts – do not make me face the loss of you at their hands as well!
The last anguished thought coincided with Thranduil’s arrival in the lower slopes of the Southern spur, and he quickly turned his focus to organising his army, concealing his internal distress from his people as he gave his orders in clear, authoritative tones.
‘When they approach target those who are foremost among them. If you should identify one who appears to be a leader among the screeching rabble, kill them first upon receiving the order to attack. On no account is a single arrow to be released until I give the word. One mistake, one mistimed assault, and we will lose our advantage. The fight for Erebor is about to begin, and we must not lose it.’
Restrained and betraying no hint of emotion, Thranduil’s voice was eerily calm, but none of the Elves gathered on the slope at that moment could afterwards honestly say they did not shiver apprehensively at the sound of those quietly spoken words from their king. And when the swiftest of the wolf-riders swirled round the end of the Eastern spur and rushed into Dale, they knew with a dreadful certainty that a terrible battle was about to commence.
‘O Elbereth Gilthoniel, pray watch over us, and lead us to victory against our enemies,’ Thranduil said softly; and drawing his sword with cold resolution, he gazed at the rapidly increasing goblin horde in the valley with a steely light in his blue eyes and a grim determination in his heart.
End Note: From this point onwards the events of the battle take place in my first story The Revelation of Truth. Thank you so much to everyone who has been kind enough to continue reading this story to its conclusion, and an extra special thank you to those who have left a review, hit the kudos button, or have added this story to their bookmark list. Your support is greatly appreciated and means the world to me. ❤️ To any future readers, I hope you will let me know your thoughts. 😊
REFERENCES
At the Gate
All the details of the meeting at the Gate (i.e. Thranduil, Bard and Gandalf approaching unarmed; any recognisable dialogue, etc), along with the interactions with Dáin, and the events leadings up to the BOTFA are taken from Chapter 17 of The Hobbit.
Hobbits and Mushrooms
“Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest likings of Big People.” LOTR, Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 5 – A Conspiracy Unmasked. Given this passion I thought it would convey how much Bilbo wanted to spend time with the Elves if he said he was prepared to give up all the mushrooms in the Shire to do it. :)
Sindarin
“The Exiles, dwelling among the more numerous Grey-elves, had adapted the Sindarin for daily use; and hence it was the tongue of all those Elves and Elf-lords that appear in this history.” LOTR, Appendix F (I) The Languages & People of the Third Age – Of the Elves
Constellation of Valacirca
This is mentioned in The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 3 – Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor: “And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she [Varda, or in Sindarin Elbereth] set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom.” It is mentioned once more in Chapter 19 – Of Beren & Lúthien: “And in answer he [Beren] sang a song of challenge that he had made in praise of the Seven Stars, the Sickle of the Valar that Varda hung above the North as a sign of the fall of Morgoth.”
East Wind
In The Hobbit, Chapter 17 – The Clouds Burst, the morning of the battle the narrative says: “the wind shifted west, and the air was dark and gloomy.” This makes it an east wind (originates in the east and blows west), which in Tolkien’s world was viewed as a thing of evil by many – possibly because so many evil things came from the east. In LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 1 – The Departure of Boromir, after Aragorn and Legolas have sung a lament for Boromir invoking the other three winds, Gimli says: “You left the East Wind to me, but I will say naught of it.” Aragorn’s reply is: “That is as it should be. In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings.”
Bilbo & the Battle
Chapter 17 of The Hobbit says that during the battle Biblo had “taken his stand on Ravenhill among the Elves – partly because there was more chance of escape from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish part of his mind) because if he was going to be in a last desperate stand, he preferred on the whole to defend the Elvenking.” To understand the reference to the “Tookish part of his mind” I looked at what was said in Chapter 1 about Bilbo’s ancestors, the Tooks, that “it was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbitlike about them….” The term ‘fairy’ would refer to an elf, as in Chapter 8, Tolkien refers to the Wood-Elves as being “descended from the ancient tribes that never went to Faerie in the West. There the Light-elves and the Deep-elves and the Sea-elves went and lived for ages….” And in his other writing, The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, in the poem Errantry, Tolkien refers to the “elven-knights of Aerie and Faerie”. So, even if the legend of a Took marrying an elf is absurd, there was obviously enough “elvish” behaviour exhibited by members of the Took-clan to make the other hobbits believe such a story, and makes Bilbo’s preference to defend the Elvenking in the battle a bit more understandable.