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Bilbo Baggins stood at the bridge leading to the Last Homely House and appreciated its grandeur. “Quite beautiful. However,” he murmured under his breath to his Guide, Thorin,“I wouldn’t call it homely by any stretch.”
Behind them stretched the other twelve members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Plus a wizard, Gandalf the Grey. After defeating a pack of trolls which Bilbo had heard while they were on the road by making holes in their daytime shelter when the sun was high overhead, Thorin had finally agreed to go to the elves at Rivendell so his father’s map could be read. It didn’t hurt that Bilbo had letters from the Thain of the Shire for Lord Elrond and would need to stop there himself. And no matter how much Thorin hated elves due to King Thranduil of the Greenwood’s actions, or lack thereof, when Smaug attacked Erebor, the dwarven king would never wish his newly found Sentinel to be among them alone.
Gandalf had led them to the main thoroughfare into the woodland home of Lord Elrond, and they waited at the bridge for someone to greet them. Thorin could feel his Sentinel relaxing as the peace of the valley and the magic of the elves soothed him as its similarities to the magic of the Shire fed his soul. The dwarf could also feel good-natured amusement from the surrounding woods. which he knew was filled with watching elves. It was very different from what he recalled feeling in previous interactions with elves. The bitter rage and overarching superiority was entirely missing here, where it permeated Eryn Galen and those elves who visited Erebor before it’s fall. Thorin hadn’t been online then, but he still had the readings his gift took, he just couldn’t feel them or process them until after the attack by the dragon when he did come online.
Thorin realized that he had allowed those memories to influence him greatly, essentially allowing Thranduil to hold sway over his heart. Those days were tragic and Thranduil’s actions were more than cowardly, but Thorin had held his bitterness too tightly to himself and it had begun - or to be honest, more than begun - to poison his soul. Waiting so long to find his One, his Sentinel to fill the evidently hobbit-shaped-hole inside him, it had cloaked his heart in darkness, only his sister-sons having a chance to breakthrough it. Now those feelings were bubbling consciously through him, and he was able to see them for what they were, and he was understanding that just as all dwarrow were not the same. so too were elves different. Like the difference between those dwarf lords at the meeting who had refused him aid, even his cousin Dain only sending a representative rather than coming himself versus the members of his company, who brimmed with loyalty, honor, and willing hearts as he had told Balin.
Bilbo Baggins had changed him in so many profound ways in such a short time. Thorin cherished him and his shining soul.
Elrond himself appeared at the end of the bridge and approached the Company. Gandalf was near the front of the group and the elf lord nodded to the wizard. “Mithrandir, it has been some time. What brings you to my home and in such varied company?”
Gandalf smiled and leaned on his staff, speaking in Sindarin. “Just out for some trading, visiting, this and that.”
Bilbo rolled his eyes and spoke in the same language. “Gandalf, must you be so much yourself. The man deserves a straight answer, and I will give him one if you won’t. How am I supposed to pass on the messages if you dance around the party tree rather than being straightforward. Honestly, I think you derive amusement too much from causing misunderstandings between peoples. Confounded wizard.”
Thorin cocked an eyebrow and spoke fluently in the Elven language. “Indeed, Tharkun, one would think you wanted the elves to be on edge and not trust us. This isn’t time for your foolishness.”
Elrond smiled honestly and spoke in Westron. “King Thorin, I have not seen Gandalf so called out on his shenanigans in centuries.”
Thorin bowed his head. “He is an old meddler and he knows it. I do not believe we have met?”
Elrond inclined his head in return, “No, but you have much the look of your grandfather and your forefather. The one who likes to pop back up now and again? I’ve known all of his incarnations and you resemble him greatly. Be welcome to my lands and home, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror.”
“I thank you for your kindness. May I introduce my Company, first my bonded Sentinel, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”
Bilbo smiled and waved. Elrond inclined his head and waved back with a smile as Thorin continued, “My sister-sons Fili, my heir and Kili. My advisors Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. We are on a quest to reclaim our lost home if possible.”
Elrond’s brow furrowed minutely but his smile remained. “Welcome to Rivendell.”
Bilbo stepped forward, “It is a pleasure to meet an old friend of my mother's, Lord Elrond. She spoke often of you with great fondness.”
“Indeed. You are Belladonna Took’s son, then?”
“Yes, and she told many tales of her adventures here in your home.”
Elrond smiled broadly. “She was a wonderful friend. I had heard from our patrols of her loss. You have my sympathy.”
“Thank you. It was that event, her fall to the wolves during Fell Winter that brought me online.”
“Pardon me, I had thought King Thorin had called you his Sentinel, but I was under the impression that hobbit Sentinels could not leave the Shire without going mad and into a fatal zone.”
Bilbo grimaced. “Yes, well, that has historically been true since the settling of the Shire but well, hobbit Sentinels did also not historically bond with a singular Guide, but here we are. I am Thorin’s One and he is mine. And seemingly that is changing. I recently discovered some things about ancient hobbit history that were kept very close to the Thain’s direct line. I had known some of it such as why we don’t have a king due to our oaths to Arthedain. But there was much more I didn’t know, but we can discuss it later, I think. I have letters from the Thain for you and Thorin needs your assistance with an ancient language. May we all stay for a while, Lord Elrond.”
Elrond blinked and then nodded, “Yes, be welcome to the Last Homely House.” As Bilbo passed him across the bridge, he murmured, “Letters? He needed more than one?”
Bilbo chuckled. “He gave me one long one before we left the Shire and several more have arrived via raven since then with updates, I believe. The letters for me were telling me of events I was missing due to my travels. He didn’t send yours directly to you because the whole thing is something that needs to be explained in person first and then once you understand and your major questions which wouldn’t work well via letter are out of the way, you can send him letters via raven or Ranger, and he can do the same directly to you as things proceed. But this is really something that needs good comfort to be discussed, a full belly, pleasant company, and lots of alcohol wouldn’t likely hurt, or at least not until the next morning, it wouldn’t hurt.”
Elrond gaped as the Company and their ponies crossed over the bridge into Rivendell.
Elrond stood on a balcony overlooking the waterfalls and spoke to Gandalf. “I am not entirely sure how to deal with this Gandalf. How much to believe of the tale they have brought? The hobbits are leaving the Shire en masse due to two prophecies given to their people before the fall of Arnor? Sentinels of old are appearing in large numbers in the Shire due to their upcoming need during this migration? Belladonna’s son is a Sentinel, the harbinger of this change among hobbits, bonded to Thorin Oakenshield, who is a Guide? There is a strain of madness in his line, Gandalf. You know this. Durin has fallen to it several times. And Thror certainly was deeply fallen into gold madness before the dragon came. Sauron’s taint is strong in their race, their rings twisted them entire. The Nine were fearsome but it was only the nine kings. The seven dwarf lords spread corruption through their rings to their entire peoples. Gold madness impacts them all, easily. Even if Thorin Oakenshield is a Guide, how can you know he will not fall to the curse of his line?
“A mountain range like the Misty Mountains is as nothing to a dragon the age of Smaug. He is currently asleep or at least content with the hoard of Erebor. Waking the dragon impacts more of us then the dwarves, Gandalf, it is folly to allow it. We must summon the White Council and determine the best way forward.”
Gandalf sighed. “Old friend, it is not our place. The Valar gave those prophecies to the hobbits near an age ago. Their will is clear.”
“Yes, if you trust that they are true prophecies and not distorted over the many years. I have never heard them or of them, nor any elf.”
“Elves are not the only ones with a relationship to the Valar, Elrond. Do not prove the dwarrow correct in their distrust through arrogance as Thranduil displays.
“Darkness is spreading across the lands as hasn’t been seen in an age, the Company took out a group of trolls that were by the Great East Road. Orc parties raid further from their mountains, goblins breed in much higher numbers than they have in many centuries. There are rumors of sickness in the Greenwood. Smaug himself and his attack is a sign of the spreading darkness. You know that only a few decades ago, the Shire experienced such a fell winter that the River froze solid and wolves weren’t the only creatures take advantage of it. Orcs attacked some of the northern farthings.”
“I cared deeply for Belladonna Took. She did me a great service once, and I am sorry that she faced such a horrific end. However, you have too fond of a relationship with the hobbits to be trusted to be impartial. We need to summon more level heads.”
Elrond turned from Gandalf and laid his hands on the balustrade. In that instant, he fell hard into a trance. Never had the elf lord been so gripped, his visions being much gentler than his late wife’s mother Galadriel’s were. But the Valar were not gentle to him now. As he stood as still as the statue that overlooked the valley, Elrond’s mind-eye saw the Company fall afoul of goblins, even though they avoided a trapped cave, witnessed Bilbo fall into an underground cavern, then the dwarves running from the goblin horde and reuniting with the hobbit, before then running from an orc party summoned by the goblins, viewed a confrontation between the bonded pair and Bolg, saw the Company lost in a dark, evil wood, captured by spiders, imprisoned by Thranduil, confronting a dragon and causing him to flee the mountain and attack a nearby town, he saw them besieged by men and elves, then a battle with orcs, goblins, and other fell creatures, he saw Thorin fall to Bolg, his nephews fall in battle overwhelmed, a feral Bilbo killing the orc leader before a broken hobbit bid his love farewell. The elf Lord saw the hobbit return to the Shire and then briefer flashes, the hobbit aged prematurely and Fading within a year, the Shire afire, cities of men burning, great battles, and the Nine re-embodied and hunting, darkness spreading from Mordor across the world, Rivendell and Lorien in ruins, a golden ring on the finger of a towering figure once more.
Elrond gasped and his hands tightened on the rail as the Valar shifted their hold on him, gentling, though not releasing. Now Elrond viewed him and his people planning with the dwarrow, bypassing problem areas, working together to slay the dragon without loss of life, destroying the fell army without a battle, Mordor falling into itself, Mount Doom gone.
The Valar released their grasp and Elrond returned to find himself surrounded by worried faces. He uncharacteristically allowed himself to slump against the railing, drained and horrified. Gandalf laid his hand on Elrond’s arm and Erestor hurried to his side with a chair which Elrond gladly took advantage of, while Glorfindel held out a goblet of water.
Breathing hard, Elrond turned to Gandalf. “Arrogance, you said? Did I say something about false prophecies, Gandalf?” The elf laughed. “I was shown how very true they are. Arrogance, pride, old prejudices, I set them aside, no I throw them away entirely. Even someone as old as I can learn, though my head is hard enough to require quite the hit to change its direction. I have been shown my folly, worse than even he who I have cursed repeatedly over the years. My actions and lack thereof would have led to the fall of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth and the return to power and a body of the Dark Lord.”
The elves and wizard gaped at him. “The hobbits hold prophecies granted to them before the founding of the Shire, and they are true, and they begin to occur now. We will translate King Thorin’s map and assist however we can. I will not summon the White Council here, though I have received word that Radagast is on his way.”
A voice echoed in his mind and the minds of those nearest to him, “ You won’t be leaving me out, Elrond. You were not the only one gifted tonight. I saw what you saw and more. We have much planning to do and relationships to mend. I am coming and will arrive sooner than I would for a normal visit. Expect me the day after next. Prepare your guests for a Council, do NOT let them sneak away due to distrust.”
Bilbo, Thorin and the Company gathered in a courtyard in Rivendell, seating for all of them and others laid out in a large oval shape. Gandalf and Elrond were already seated as were Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elrond’s twin sons Elladan and Elrohir. A few minutes later Radagast the Brown arrived, escorting Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. Introductions and diplomatic pleasantries took some time but eventually Elrond stood and faced the gathering.
“King Thorin and his Company are in the midst of a great quest. A quest to slay a dragon and reclaim their home. But more is at stake than such a singular thing. The Valar are concerned by the actions and prevailing attitudes, most particularly of my race. I was granted a vision - this description sounds much too tame for the event - a vision of how the quest would progress with the races being at odds. It led to the end of all of us and the rise of the Dark Lord. I was then shown flashes of what could be if the animosity between us was laid to rest and it was awe-inspiring. I have vowed to set my prejudices aside and greet this future with open-heart. I will not be the one cursed in future centuries, even as Isildur is now for his lack of action. I will see your quest succeed King Thorin and assist however I can.”
Thorin looked at Bilbo and nodded before speaking. “You are being very open and honest with us, Lord Elrond, so I will return the favor. We knew much of this. When the Valar reached out to you and granted you the powerful visions, I felt the ripples in the spiritual plane. They felt threatening in a way, and I was able to eventually trace their focal point to you and Bilbo used his senses to listen for the danger I perceived. He heard what was said after you were released from the Valar’s strong hold. He relayed it to the Company and I.
“I do not blame you for your previous lack of trust in us. I know it comes from a place of concern and worry for your people and the world, not because you feel we are beneath you. I have held my own prejudices and hatred for your race for a very long time. I held the inactions of one elf and those he commanded against all elves in their entirety. My own race has long held onto grudges against yours from generation to generation for slights leading back to the very dawn of time and our creation. As I am sure your own people do.
“The distrust between races is profound and the Dark has used it in the past to sow further divisions. Our people have set such aside for the good of the entire world before and I welcome the chance to do so now, once more. I had no idea of the scope of the quest to Middle Earth as a whole but I understand the workings of the Valar are not for mortal dwarrow or hobbits or even immortal elves or wizards to truly know. I can feel the true good intentions from everyone here and I pledge to fight evil in any form I find it, to protect not just my Sentinel and Company, not just my people, not just my race, but all the peoples and races of Middle Earth, I claim them as mine, my Tribe.”
Bilbo stood and a solemn look laid over his normally cheerful face. “I, too, claim all the people of Middle Earth as my Tribe, mine to protect. The Valar have been foreseeing and planning for these days since before Isildur’s failing. The hobbits are leaving the Shire, fully half of them guided by several dozen hobbit Sentinels, something that hasn’t been seen among hobbits since the Wandering Days. We will work together to take back the mountain from Smaug and then strengthen the region against the encroaching darkness.”
As Bilbo sat once more, Galadriel rose to her feet. “When the Valar reached out to Lord Elrond, they drew me into the vision as well. However, I saw more than he, being more accustomed to such harsh visions. I arranged for my people to be ready with assistance for your Company once you have cleared the Misty Mountains. Once you have done so, Gandalf will part from you for a while, and he, Elrond, and I along with some few of my people, will take another route to see to a problem the Valar wish us to deal with. I do not wish to be cryptic or hide things from you but sometimes speaking a thing aloud allows it to be heard, even by one who is not present. The Dark has many tricks.”
Radagast stood and smoothed his unusually clean robes. “The Valar were very busy and intrusive the other night. I, too, received a - more of a visitation in a way then a vision. They took my soul, for lack of a better term, to them. And I needed that refresher, that reminder of who I am, who I was, what I was made to be. I have spent too long in isolation here on Middle Earth. Too long in the costume of the dotty wizard Radagast the Brown. I was becoming that costume. Falling. In a different way than Melkor fell, but a fall nonetheless. That facade has been stripped from me, not the powers but the mask. I am Radagast but I am more Aiwendil.
“When Gandalf parts from you to attend to his mission with Elrond and Galadriel, I will accompany you to the mountain. I will provide magical protection and spies. Nature is my area of strength and the very birds and insects and animals will assist me. My power may be less than Saruman or even Gandalf, but that is only for a given factor of less.
“Saruman has allowed his status as the White, the most powerful of us sent to Middle Earth, to go to his head and feed his ego. He, too, was in the midst of falling, in a much closer manner to Melkor’s fall. I bring tidings from the Valar that they were not going to repeat past mistakes. When they reached out two nights ago, they removed Saruman from his body much as they did me, but he they did not return. He is once more in Valinor and can meddle no more here.”
Gandalf bowed his head in sorrow, tears streaking his face. “I grieve for my brother. It is hard to know what free will can bring even a Maia to.”
There were several moments of silence as the assembled thought on that profound statement before Elrond once more rose to his feet. “I know the route I saw you taking across the mountains and it is a grave mistake. Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir will take you through a different pass, a safer one. The one you planned would have led to your capture by goblins and much hardship flowed from that encounter, including the loss of many of your supplies. If you will allow it, King Thorin, they will then accompany you on your quest. The wilds hold many dangers and the Dark is treacherous for us all.”
Thorin nodded. “I welcome the assistance of the sons of Elrond, mighty orc slayers than even I have heard tell of, and Glorfindel, the Balrog slayer himself, is a companion I would gladly have on our quest.”
Elrond smiled. “The moon you need to read your map will shine in just under two weeks. We shall spend those weeks planning and preparing, and have your group be ready to leave the morning after you have the answers you need.”
Galadriel spoke softly, “One thing that several of you must spend this time on is the forging of a dozen or more black arrows. I have brought material with me from Lothlorien to make them even more deadly than in the past. It is a metal that fell to earth during a Starlight Festival that occurred the very night of Smaug’s attack on Erebor. News of the attack did not even reach us for over a week after the festival. None of us connected the two events, not even I, until the Valar showed me the connection two nights ago. I was on my way here on the back of an eagle sent by Manwe himself within an hour of the vision’s end. Great events are in motion and our choices made now will shape the future of everyone for ages to come.”
The Company, now consisting of thirteen dwarrow, one hobbit, two wizards, and three elves, made their way to a pass through the Misty Mountains. It was well hidden and fairly narrow. The ponies and horses barely fit between the towering rock walls at times. Bilbo spent his time extending his sense of hearing for approaching danger, anchored by Thorin’s presence in his soul.
The night before they left the pass, Bilbo heard a great crashing in the distance and cast his sight along the route his hearing took. “The route we had planned is under bombardment. There are great stone giants throwing boulders at one another. Parts of it will likely be gone by morning.”
Balin brow furrowed and after two minutes, he spoke, “If my calculations are correct, this is the night we most likely would have been on that pass. If we had left at near the same time after the map was read, and proceeded at our normal pace, taking into account how much further that pass was from this and how much longer it would have taken to get to its start, we would be somewhere on that pass right now.”
Bilbo sighed, “And we certainly wouldn’t have had our elvish friends and likely would not have had either of our wizard companions with us as Lord Elrond would have called a meeting of that White Council, and they would have attended that if the Valar had not intervened.”
Fili grabbed his brother's arm. “You mean, we’d have been on a mountain pass in the middle of a thunder battle?”
Balin nodded. “It is likely, yes.”
The original Company exchanged looks. “Well then, thanks be to the Valar even more than before,” said Bofur. “At best, we’d have had injured, at worst, well.”
They all nodded and every mortal member of the party made a sign of thanks. Elladan followed Bilbo’s path and extended his own hearing, followed by his sight. “They are quite lively tonight. Something riled them up. And the giants are but one reason we created this pass. The one they are damaging goes over parts of the mountains that teem with goblins. They don’t like to come out there, the giants quite dislike them but I can smell their stench all over parts of the path and within several caves next to it.”
“Oh, are you a Sentinel, Prince Elladan?” Asked Ori, his thirst for knowledge overcoming his normal reticence.
Elladan nodded. “Just Elladan, Master Ori. And yes, I am. Elrohir is my Guide. Frankly there are few elven Sentinels or Guides. There were many more in the First Age and even the Second Age but as our people fade and our birth rates fall and so many sail West, few come online. There are many theories as to the reason, ranging from the withdrawing of the elves, to our eternal nature combined with the lack of population growth. Many feel the Valar felt it would be too difficult for a Sentinel or Guide to live for untold centuries without hope of a match on Middle Earth. There are only five bonded pairs and of unbonded there are seven Sentinels and two Guides, as far as is generally known.
“It was a great shock for everyone when my twin and I came online at the exact same moment when our mother was taken by orcs. The trauma, most believe, Awakened our Gifts.”
Ori blushed. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Elrohir shook his head. “We were able to recover her but not soon enough. The torture that they put her through was too much for her to cope with. She tried, and I tried to help her with my Gifts, but she couldn’t stay. She sailed West to the peace of Valinor.”
Thorin bowed his head. “That is still a loss for you. You have our sympathies.”
The twins nodded and spoke in unison, “Thank you.”
Gandalf huffed. “It is still amazing to see such amity between you. But we need to turn in. It will be an early morning to get out of the pass and down into the forest. We’ll see the River Ninglor’s tributary exit the mountains, and we’ll follow it to the Gladden Fields, after which we will have to hike along the River Anduin to the Old Forest Road.”
Radagast, or rather Aiwendil, as he now wished to once again be known, interrupted his fellow wizard. “There is no ‘we’ that includes you, old friend. Once we reach the Anduin, I do believe you have an appointment to keep.”
“Ah, yes, yes. I do at that. Well, then, we will reach the River Anduin and I will leave you while you continue north to the Old Forest Road and then through the Greenwood.”
Aiwendil sighed, “Do give up the dotty old man act, Gandalf. Believe me, it is not a pleasant experience to be yanked from your body and returned. And the Greenwood is a thing of the past. It is tainted beyond measure and Thranduil does nearly nothing to fix it. The men call it Mirkwood and it is an appropriate appellation.”
Gandalf glared balefully at the Brown Wizard. “Fine but if you meet with Thranduil or any of the elves from his kingdom, I suggest you use the old name.”
“Hmmm. Maybe, we’ll see. To refer to it as it truly is rather than as they want it to be while doing nothing to make it so may shake them enough to actually get off their asses and work against the Dark rather than fall to it. I can’t understand how elves can stand to live within such corruption. Particularly sylvan elves. Thranduil is filled with enough pride to deliberately not see how much his lack of action is harming him, how the corruption is tainting him and all of those within his lands. He has never truly recovered from the loss of Oropher, and between that - which he blames Elrond for -and his injuries by dragon fire as a young elf during the War of Wrath, followed by the capture, torture and death of his wife in Gundabad, he locked his heart away, and with it his brains.”
Gandalf grunted. “Other than those on watch, we should get some sleep. Early morning and long days ahead.”
Gradually the path opened from stone into trees and then a river, a small one but a river nonetheless appeared on their right from within the rock face. At that point the Company was officially passed the Misty Mountains. They followed the river as it widened slowly and within a few hours they stared at the fork ahead of them. The river on their left was joined with a tributary on their right and where the two met was a beach made of stones and a temporary dock. Moored to this dock was a ship that could only be of eleven design. The sweeping lines and curves, the sails, the decoration, it all screamed of the elves.
“Hello, the ship,” called Glorfindel as he strode forward.
A blond head cleared the side and a lithe form followed as it leapt over the side. “Greetings, Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower. I am Maethion of Lorien. The Lady sent myself and my companions to ease the journey of yourself and your companions. We shall sail you where you need to go, as far as we can.”
Glorfindel inclined his head. “Our thanks. May I introduce my companions, King Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror and his bonded Sentinel Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. King Thorin’s sister-sons and heirs, Fili and Kili.”
As Glorfindel introduced the entire party, the ship ramp was lowered to the dock and four more elves stood beside Maethion. When the Company's introductions were complete, Maethion introduced his companions, elves of Lorien, Aglaron, Êchon, Grachanar, and Harnon. He then turned to the grey wizard.
“I bear a message for you, Mithrandir. My lady requests that you leave the Company now as the timing of errand is critical. They will meet you in Caras Galadhon in four days.”
Gandalf nodded and made his goodbyes to his companions as they all boarded the ship. Harnon showed the wizard to a smaller boat though sturdy which would enable him and his horse to cross to the southern side of the river without having to ford it, a dangerous idea with the two rivers merging.
Once Gandalf was safely on his way, Maethion turned to Thorin. “While there is room for your mounts on the ship, it may be best if we think to send them to Lorien once we reach the Anduin. The path through the forest is not suitable for neither ponies nor horses any longer. It is barely suitable for elves. Aglaron returned from a visit there but three months ago and reported that the forest was ill.”
Thorin nodded. “We have heard of this illness that has changed the forest so much that the men now call it the Mirkwood.”
Aglaron nodded. “That is a name that fits. There is a miasma in the forest and giant spiders, offspring of Ungoliant, roam the woods and the patrols seem to not even dent their numbers. Horses and ponies would slow you down and make you a tempting meal to them.”
“Well, let us make the decision when the time comes for it to be made.”
The elves nodded and finished loading the ship, Êchon dismantling the dock and placing the wood in the hold of the ship. As they made their way down the river, the distant forest grew clearer and larger. The ship was a tight fit for them all but not so much as to make them feel trapped.
Maethion took Thorin to the hold of the ship and showed him a somewhat hastily though incredibly well-made gift from the Lord of Lorien. “When Lady Galadriel left for Rivendell, she left behind instructions. Lord Celeborn and several of our craftsmen crafted these portable Wind Lances. They are not as powerful as the ones that dwarves make, but you can move them. And the Lady said that the composition of the new Black Arrows would make up for the lack of power compared to the stationary wind lances.”
“Our deepest thanks to you, and your Lord and Lady, Maethion. I feared we would need to use scraps to build a single wind lance. And you come bearing six. It is a great weight from my mind.”
The elf and the dwarf shared a smile. “Dragons, spiders, orcs, goblins, whether we are elves or dwarves or hobbits or wizards, we all fight the fell creatures of the Enemy whenever they appear. And working together, we can make more miracles happen than when we are alone,” said Maethion.
Thorin nodded. “I have realized this truth in the past few months. Our peoples have been so divided since the Last Alliance, it is actually good for the Dark when it is so. Suspiciously divided.”
Maethion nodded, “But now we realize it and once more come together. The light of Eru and the Valar overcoming the Corruption.”
As they traveled down the current, Bilbo stayed as far from the sides of the ship as he could manage. Thorin felt his fear and came to him, wrapping him tightly in his arms. “What frightens you, ghivashel?”
Bilbo huddled in, increasing his sense of touch and smell, reveling in his Guide. “Hobbits for the most part have a very bad time with water. Most of us are unable to swim and the smallest current can sweep us away. I won’t let my fear paralyze me and I know this ship is the best way forward but still, the sight of all of that fast moving water, it summons racial memories. Going back to our Wandering Days, so many were lost to rivers that had to be forded. Even now, there are very few bridges in the wilds, and there were certainly less then. And in modern times, some hobbits every year drown in the Brandywine, having fallen in one way or another. Even those who are able to swim a bit can get overcome by a river’s current. And I am not one of those who are able to swim, I don’t even float, I sink.”
Thorin tightened his hold. “We will not let you be swept away, Bilbo. If there is a need to ford a river or swim or some such, I will lash you to myself. I am a strong swimmer and will keep you safe, my bonded.”
Bilbo smiled and gave Thorin an innocent though lingering kiss, only pulling away when the ship began to make a wide turning sweep onto the River Anduin. They would continue northward towards the Old Forest Road where there was the entrance to the Mirkwood and a flat and large enough area to dock the ship.
It took the ship three days to make its way upstream to the Great Forest Road. There was much debate over the next step in the journey as they headed north.At the outset, many of the Company, especially Balin and Gloin were strictly for taking the most direct route to the Lonely Mountain, as they were on a definite timetable. Bilbo, Fili, Kili, and the elves all argued for avoiding the forest and especially a potential run-in with King Thranduil. The others pointed out pros and cons from both sides. However, as the boat passed by the increasingly closer forest, those who wished to traverse it began to have second thoughts. Even from near a mile between the river and the woods, it appeared ominous and foreboding. And the more that distance shrank, the worse those on the boat felt.
Upon arrival at the ford, they set up the dock and unloaded the horses and ponies as they needed the freedom and regardless on the decision about the route, the horses would not be with them. Mirkwood was not appropriate for them and a month more on a ship would be bad for both the horses and the Company in their proximity. Êchon and Harnon would be herding them back down river and on to Lorien.
The brown wizard disembarked the ship and turned to the others. “No matter which way is decided, we need to do some hunting on the west side of the river and south of the road. North of here there lives the last of the shape changers, Beorn. His people were captured by orcs and used as entertainment in fighting rings. He eventually escaped but the others all were killed over time. He does not allow hunting on his lands as the animals are under his protection, and he is fierce in his duties. He does not care for dwarrow, nor men, nor elves, truly. He tolerates me as I share his love of nature and animals. You do not wish to challenge him.”
Thorin nodded. “We shall not offend him. Fili, Kili, Elladan, Elrohir, Bofur, Bifur, and Nori, you are the hunters tonight. Catch what you can of small game, rabbits, game birds, squirrels, what have you. You have three hours. We will camp here tonight on the flat ground and on the morrow we will approach the Mirkwood and make our decision. Bombur, Oin, Glorfindel, Bilbo and I will search out plants that are edible for our stores.”
“Keep a look-out for mushrooms, berries, and check the trees for fruits,” added Bilbo.
Maethion stepped forward, “I have fishing gear for several people. We can attempt to catch some of those swift moving ones we saw yesterday.”
“Everyone who is not hunting or gathering or fishing, set up the camp here. Make sure it is well back from the water in case of flooding. It is the wet season in the northern mountains and the temperatures are rising as well, which could cause snow melt from the higher peaks.”
The Company split to do their jobs as directed, and Thorin and Bilbo made their way into the trees in their hunt. It wasn’t as dense a tree cover as to be called a proper forest but it was definitely what Bilbo considered a wood. He used his senses, especially smell, to lead them to a large grouping of mushrooms near a large batch of red berry bushes. After gathering their forage, Thorin pulled his Sentinel into his arms. I have missed being alone with you, âzyungâl. Holding you at night is not enough.”
Bilbo sighed. “I miss it too, Thorin, love. But the ship has no privacy and even if we go through Mirkwood, I don’t feel it would be a good idea to wander off for some private time, not from everything we’ve been told about its dangers.”
Thorin tightened his hold, nuzzling Bilbo’s hair. “I know. But, we’ve found quite a lot already, and we are alone here. The dangers are known and fairly normal. There has been no sign of orcs or wargs, not even howls in the distance at night.”
Bilbo smiled. “True. True, and I can use my senses to find more edible plants easily enough. And this is private. No dwarrow around, no elves, no wizards, not even a pony. And if I turn up my hearing, we will have plenty of warning of any company.”
Bilbo leaped up and wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist. Thorin grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, leaning his head down to kiss his smaller Sentinel. Their lips met, the kiss far from innocent or chaste, and Bilbo grabbed Thorin's braids, rutting his hips against his Guide.
Bilbo ran one hand down from his mate’s hair and began tugging at his fur coat, pushing at the shoulder trying to get it off.
Thorin let Bilbo slide down until his feet were once more on the ground and shrugged out of his coat, his lips trailing across the face and downward. He lay his coat on the ground and swept his hobbit into his arms before laying them both down on the soft fur. Bilbo pulled his own coat off and kicked his trousers down.
Thorin slid his pants off and lay on top of his Sentinel, his mind reaching out as he sank down, his cock sliding along Bilbo’s. The two bonded lovers tuned out the rest of the world as they renewed their bond in the peace of the woods.
An hour later, Bilbo curled his exhausted and sticky body against his Guide and breathed deeply. “I don’t know how things normally go on between Sentinels and Guides as hobbits haven’t had singular bonds since settling in the Shire, but being with you is so amazing. I thank the Valar that Gandalf thought to bring you and your Company to me. My life would have been so much poorer without all of you in it, Thorin.”
Thorin ran his hand down Bilbo’s back and up again. “I know how bonded couples are and for so long have I waited in my life for you. Mahal made you for me, to be my other half, and the Maker knew exactly what I needed. I didn’t want to come to the Shire, I didn’t want an outsider on my quest to retake my home land, and look at where we are now. My Company has expanded, and we are thirteen dwarrow, a hobbit, a wizard - and not the one who began us on our journey, and six elves! Elves! Never would I have imagined it, sanâzyung. And yet, it is right. This is what fate wants of us and our path would have been fraught with peril and darkness without everyone being exactly who they are. I love you, Bilbo Baggins, and never will we part.”
Bilbo snuggled into Thorin’s side and buried his nose in his pulse point, giving it a kiss. “Your love is returned full heartedly, Thorin, my Guide, my King.”
The next morning Thorin and the Company crossed the river and made their way along the crumbling remains of the Old Forest Road to the beginning of the looming trees. Bilbo used his senses for a brief moment before cooling against his Guide. “No, this is, just, no.”
Thorin gazed into the gloom under the trees and could barely make out the remains of the path even this close to the edge of the woods. He nodded his agreement. “Even with the Sentinels among us, we would lose the path, I can barely see it paces from the edge. We will avoid this cursed place and take the ship northward until the Anduin meets with the Forest River. It will take us a month or more depending on the winds, yes, but if we lose the path within the Mirkwood we could be wandering until Durin’s Day or beyond, assuming we didn’t fall afoul of the spiders or Thranduil's elven patrols. We will spend one more night camped and gather more food, and salt any we can’t eat within the next few days. We will fish from the ship daily and stop once a week to forage and hunt, assuming we can find mooring.”
The Company all looked into the once Greenwood and all could understand the new title of Mirkwood. Even Balin agreed with his king and made it clear, wanting to avoid any chance of infighting or hard feelings.
“You are my chief advisor, Balin, I count on you to not simply tell me yes or what you think I want to hear. There are enough dwarrow who do that. I appreciate that you give me your true opinions and would never want you to stop.”
The trip northward to the meeting of the Rivers Anduin and Forest took three and a half weeks, stopping every five to six days to find fresh food. The Company became closer and had many merry times before the ship turned onto the Forest River. A week headed southward brought them to a tributary to the west, which Aglaron told them led to Thranduil's city. As they approached, Grachanar on lookout, told of a boat at the mouth the tributary. His keen eyesight from nearly a mile up the river saw that it was a tall man, with a beard, who was hauling barrels out of the river and onto his boat.
On Thorin's orders, the ship pulled up alongside the smaller boat. By the time they were within hailing distance the man had become aware of their presence as he had stopped collecting barrels though several still bobbed next to his boat. Maethion threw out the anchor, and they came to a stop perfectly next to the boat.
Thorin took the lead, standing at the railing of the ship nearest the man and called out, “Greetings, boatman, would you be willing to trade us information on the region?”
The man nodded. “For a price, I will. We do not see many traders at this time of year. Nor at any time, to be frank.”
Thorin nodded. “We are not here to trade though we may re-supply in your town.”
“May I come aboard. Talking would be easier.”
Bilbo handed Thorin a rope, and he threw the end over the side. “Can you make your way up the rope, Man? Or do we need to haul you?”
The man snorted. “I can climb it. And my name,” he said as he cleared the rail, “is Bard.”
“Well met, Bard.”
Bard looked around at the occupants of the ship and his brows raised. “This is a motley collection of companions. Dwarves, elves, a man, and a child?”
Bilbo sighed. “I am no child, Bard. I am a hobbit of the Shire which lies on the other side of the Misty Mountains. I am also a Sentinel and can hear your rapid heartbeat. We truly mean you no harm. We travel the river to avoid the Mirkwood. And we simply seek knowledge of the lake ahead and the inhabitants of the region. And as you were told, we will pay a reasonable amount for the knowledge we seek.”
Bard breathed out visibly. “A Sentinel? Truly? My people have not had a Sentinel among us since my great-grandfather. He died when the dragon came and destroyed Dale and took over the mountain.”
Thorin tilted his head and his eyes narrowed. “Your great-grandfather was Lord Girion? King of the Dale?”
Bard frowned. “How did you know who I spoke of?”
“I met Lord Girion a handful of times before the dragon came. He was the only active Sentinel within the Dale at that time. Also, you have the look of him, around the eyes, and the shape of your face.”
Bard’s eyes widened. “You knew my great-grandfather? How? I -“
“A dwarf lives significantly longer than a man, Bard, descendant of Girion. I was here when Smaug came and witnessed his attacks personally. As did several members of my Company.”
Bard leaned against the rail behind him. “You are here to wake the dragon.”
Thorin nodded. “If he still lives, which we have reason to believe, we are here to kill him and retake the mountain.”
“You cannot kill the dragon. Even with ten times the number you have on this ship, it would not be enough.”
Thorin motioned behind him and Maethion handed him a Black Arrow. He showed it to Bard who gaped. “I thought I had the last Black Arrow in existence.”
“These were forged in Rivendell by myself and other members of my Company with an even denser metal than the original used by my grandfather. It was provided by Lady Galadriel of Lorien.”
“Your grandfather? King Thror is said to have forged the Black Arrows.”
Thorin nodded. “He did.”
Bilbo nudged Thorin in the side. “Forgive his manners. Introductions all around later, there are so many of us, but for etiquette’s sake, this is my Guide and the leader of our Company and Quest, Thorin, called Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. And just to put it out there, you weren’t quite truthful earlier. When you said there hasn’t been a Sentinel among your people since Girion.”
Bard spluttered. “I didn’t lie.”
“Then you lie to yourself. It isn’t totally clear but I see the thrush that sits on your shoulder by your head and yet it doesn’t displace your hair or wrinkle your clothes.”
Bard titled his head. “Are you saying you think I am a Sentinel?”
Bilbo nodded. “Yes. Your eyes are keener than others, yes? The smell of the fish in your boat make you want to be sick until you deliberately push it away? You prefer your food lightly or barely spiced? You get rashes and overhear things others don’t?”
Bard nodded slowly, “Yes. I suppose that is accurate.”
“You are a Sentinel. You and your people have forgotten the signs and made Sentinels some heroic amazing thing, tales of old.”
Bard agreed. ”I would say that is correct. We have tales of great deeds by Sentinels and their Guides, the one most told that of my grandfather on the day he fell. The dragon flew fast and his arrow true but the creature twisted just before it hit and rather than killing the beast, it knocked a scale from his breast, over his heart.”
Thorin smiled. “Well, that is a tale worth the price we will pay. Are we welcome in your settlement, Lord Bard?”
Bard snorted. “I’m not a lord, King Thorin. I live in Laketown and it is ruled by the Master, a greedy man who squeezes us for high taxes while we barely are able to feed our families. I am a member of the City Guard, as well as a fisherman and bargeman, retrieving empty wine barrels from King Thranduil's city. And I barely make enough to bring home bread to my children. The Master takes a large portion catch as his due, as he does from everyone. He lives in luxury with his toadies while the rest of the town scrambles to live at all.”
“But you don’t revolt against him?”
“No, we have nowhere to go. Esgaroth is our home. It is a mean home but there is no guarantee anywhere else would be better. We do see traders occasionally from Gondor and Rohan, and we trade with the elves.”
Bilbo smiled. “It is your territory and the people are your Tribe. It is the Sentinel imperative within you.”
Thorin nodded. “And when we retake Erebor, I will welcome King Bard of Dale as my ally.”
Bard scowled, “And if your plan to kill the dragon fails? He will turn on Laketown, believing us to have colluded, even if we don’t assist you.”
“We will not fail. The Valar have shown in visions what we must do. They are guiding us most directly in this quest.”
Bard’s brows raised in incredulity. “The Valar? Visions .”
Maethion stepped forward. “It is well-known even amongst Men that my lady of Lorien has visions and communicated mind to mind.”
Bard nodded slowly. “Yes, I have heard tales of the Witch of the Woods.” Maethion scowled. “Uh, no offenses meant. That was what the tales called her.”
“Hmmph. She is not a witch. She is Gifted by Eru and the Valar. As is Lord Elrond of Rivendell though not as strongly as my lady.”
Thorin nodded. “It is true. They both had vivid visions of our quest. And our companion, the Brown Wizard, called Radagast amongst men, has been instructed by Them as well.”
“Wizard? Well, why not? Very well, it isn’t like I could truly stop you at any rate. I am but one man, your Company is numerous. And well-armed. I advise you to avoid Laketown. Shortly before the last turn in the river, there is an offshoot that skirts around the town. It is a tricky route but if you are cautious and pay attention to the currents, you will make it. It is visible from town during the day, however, and your ship isn’t inconspicuous.”
“We shall traverse this way by night,” said Thorin. “The Sentinels of the Company will be able to guide the ship safely.”
Thorin pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Bard. “You said you were in the city guard? What is your position?”
“I was a co-captain until the Master found me in that position too much of a threat. It brought my lineage to people's minds, a threat to him. But he didn’t want to lose my keen eye and steady hand with a bow, so he shunted me sideways and demoted me more or less.”
“Bard the Bowman. Bard the Sentinel. We could use another keen eye with such skills. We have a number of Black Arrows and Wind Lances, but not as many with any type of experience in the art.”
“I wish to help. It is a hellish existence to live in the shadow of the dragon. But I fear for my children if the plan does fail, divinely blessed or not. I am their sole remaining parent, my wife took sick and died several years ago.”
Bilbo bit his lip. “Does anyone live in the Dale now?”
Bard shook his head emphatically. “Not even the most greedy of treasure hunters even approach the old city. There were too many in the years after Smaug took the mountain who perished in their attempts at looting the city. It is considered cursed and dangerous.”
“Hmm, it was mostly made of stone, yes?”
Thorin nodded. “Some thatched or shingled roofs or wood decorations and such but the buildings were nearly all good, honest stone, mined from Erebor.”
“Well then, can you hide your children in your boat and get them out on the lake, to the shore near where the path upwards would be? We cannot enter the mountain itself for several more weeks, it is a magic door that only opens once a year with the right key. We don’t want to camp on the plain in front of the mountain, that is just asking for trouble. And you suggest we avoid Laketown. But if we enter the Dale, we can likely find buildings with intact cellars to camp in and plan in.”
“But won’t that summon Smaug? The treasure hunters-“
Bilbo shook his head. “You said yourself, those people were from shortly after the calamity. Smaug was awake and paranoid then. It has been well over a century since then and decades since he was even seen outside the mountain. It is fairly sure he lives but so long without leaving for food suggests he is hibernating, as some animals do in winter. He feels safe. As long as we stay on the side of the Dale furthest from the mountain and spend most of our time in the cellar and are careful with our fire’s smoke and such, it should be fine. And when the time comes, your children can shelter there from the possibility of our failure. As you said, no one has approached the Dale in a very long time, he would have no reason to attack an empty city.”
Bard closed his eyes, obviously deep in thought. Finally, he opened them and nodded. “I feel a bit like doing that is abandoning the people of Laketown, but if we can kill the dragon and rebuild the Dale? It is for them and for my children that I do this. I will meet you at the stretch of beach near the path to the mountain in four days time. I suggest you make sure you are well provisioned by hunting on the far side of the river for now. The branch of the river is only an hour down current from here, the town just under two. And sundown won’t occur for six or more hours from now. We shouldn’t take the chance of hunting once we are near the mountain.”
“Agreed, Bard of Laketown, of Esgaroth, soon to be of Dale. Four days time and we meet once more.”
Weeks passed as the Company - once more enlarged, this time with a Man, a boy, and two young girls - followed the plan and camped out in the cellar area of one of surprisingly many mostly intact buildings in the Dale. They spent the time refining their plans, so many differing minds seeing the problems in different ways. And the day had finally come, Durin’s Day.
Nori, Elladan, and Elrohir had discovered steps leading to the spot on the map and Bilbo, Thorin, Balin, Bofur, Bifur and Nori would be climbing up to the ledge once the afternoon began. All of the elves, Bard, the wizard, Fili, Kili, Ori, Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori would be on the plain before the gates, preparing the Wind Lances once the sun rose the next day. Oin and Bombur would remain in the cellar with Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain.
As the group prepared for their hike up the statue, Tilda, Bard’s youngest daughter asked a question, a most profound, important question, “I know the door only opens on today, but why are you going so late? Why didn’t you go just at dawn?”
Thorin smiled at the young girl. “The door is magic and the instructions on the map tell us not just what day, but exactly what time the keyhole will be visible. ‘At the last light on Durin’s Day’. We don’t want to spend all day on the ledge if we can avoid it, lass.”
Tilda tilted her head. “But you want to climb while there’s still sunshine to see by, huh?”
“And we must get there before the sun sets.”
Tilda shook her head. “Not really. I mean, it makes it easier to climb all of them steps, I guess. But the map said ‘the last light’, not the last sun light. The final light of any day is moonlight or maybe starlight, if the moon isn’t out.”
Balin gaped. “Out of the mouths of babes flows the greatest wisdom.”
Bilbo chuckled. “And the instructions on the map are written in moon runes, aren’t they? Moonlight. Durin’s Day doesn’t end at sundown. The last light of Durin’s Day would be the light at night, the moon. It makes so much sense.”
Thorin turned to Tilda. “Thank you for your realization of the riddle, Tilda. I admit, if you had not brought this to our attention, I likely would have felt that we had failed when the sun set without the keyhole appearing. I would not have taken it well.”
Tilda smiled. “You’re welcome. I didn’t mean to be so smart. It just made sense to me. I love watching the stars and moon on the lake at night. And sometimes the moon is so bright shining off the water that the house is lit almost as bright as the daytime.”
Thorin nodded. “Well, I am thankful for your admiration for the night sky, then. And since we have some extra time, we will check the harness once more. I trust your skills, but it is the materials that I hesitate over.”
Fili smiled as he began testing a length of the metal harness they had created. “We know, uncle. It is an important part of the plan that Bard thought of and it was made from scrounged materials from the Dale.”
“Yes.”
Nearly an hour later, the harness had been checked fully and repacked for Nori, Bifur, and Bofur to carry. Thorin stood at the bottom of the cellar steps and faced his Company. “Bilbo and I go to wake the dragon and taunt him to leave the mountain. Tomorrow, we will time it to be coming out of the hole in the gates, planned by Bifur and Bofur yesterday, near midday. I trust in you all that everything will be prepared and the dragon will meet his end. Good luck to us all and may the Valar bless our purpose.”
Thorin and his group turned and left the cellar, headed to the secret door. Bard turned to the others, “Tomorrow is a big day and an early one. We should dine before the sun sets this evening so that all but the watch can get a full night’s sleep.”
Oin and Bombur step forward. “We will take the night watch. We won’t be on the plains tomorrow, so we don’t need to be as rested.”
“Your job is very important to me, Master Bombur. You protect the very heart of my soul, my future, my children.”
“But we won’t face battle, in all luck.”
Bain stepped forward. “Neither will I. I can help with the night watch, Da. I know you won’t let me face the dragon, but I can keep the ones who will safe, so they can sleep sound and be best for their duties.”
Sigrid nodded. “We want to be of help, Da. Tilda did her part, being so smart. Let Bain and I do ours.”
Bard sighed. “Very well, my stubborn children, so fast you are growing up. Each of you stay with either Master Bombur or Master Oin and split the watch between the two groups.”
The four exchanged looks and Sigrid stood next to Bombur and Bain with Oin and nodded at the Man, who would soon be a king.
The morning almost dawned, the sunrise but an hour off and Sigrid and Bombur woke the others and prepared a hearty meal for the Company. They ate well and gathered the tools they would each need. Bard’s children gave each departing member a hug and kiss for luck, and the plains contingent left the shelter of the Dale.
Once upon the vast plain between the once city of men and the towering mountain, the party split more.
Dwalin, Gloin and Dori headed for the massive gates, closed tight but not intact after Smaug’s attack. They spent the morning carefully and quietly prying at a corner of the great doors where the miners Bofur and Bifur had felt an opening. It was too small and the three enlarged it for Thorin and Bilbo to use as an escape.
The others broke into small groups and set up each of the Wind Lances to have a different angle on the gates for when Smaug broke through them. Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Maethion, Aglaron, Grachanar, Bard, Kili, Ori, and Fili would be manning each Wind Lance. It had been decided that the dragon would be unlikely to give anyone time to re-arm with a second arrow, so everyone would have one shot at the beast, aiming for the missing scale shot off by Lord Girion of Dale in the initial attack on the city of Men.
As the day progressed and it was easier to see, the Company on the plain observed Nori, Balin, Bifur, and Bofur performing their task. Bard had commented more than once during their time in the Dale about the speed and dexterity of Smaug in the air. This had led to the making of a harness from the metal they could scrounge from the old city, that Nori and Balin anchored to the statue on the secret door side of the gates using the stairs carved into it. Bifur and Bofur with their mining packs and experience climbed across the mountain face to stretch the harness across the gates and anchor it to the statue on that side. They hoped that it was large enough and strong enough to hold the great wyrm for just a few moments at least, to give them the advantage to shoot their Black Arrows.
As noon approached, all of the Company but those within the mountain or those in the cellar heard a great crashing coming from within the mountain. The archers armed the Lances and prepared, while Aiwendil prepared his magic to cast a shield, and the others readied their weapons, meager though they were against a dragon’s scales and fire.
Thorin squeezed through the tight opening made in the gates, Bilbo right on his heels, without the squeezing part. They ran full tilt and rounded the base of the left side statue just as Smaug burst through the gates, destroying them utterly this time. The dragon was shouting about being the King Under the Mountain and showing those mewling Men, as he ran into the harness, unable to see its fine cords in the glare of noon day sun. It bulged under his speed and mass but it held, amazingly, the harness made from scraps of old metal held.
Each archer took aim but one saw the flaw in the chest plate first, one of them who was in the exact right position to take advantage of that angle on the dragon. Bard the Bowman, Sentinel of Laketown, let loose his Black Arrow into the heart of the dragon Smaug and completed the job his great grandfather had begun so many years before. Smaug the Terrible, the Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of the Age, died and fell to land before the remains of the gates of Erebor.
The other archers never even loosed their Arrows. All of the dwarrow let loose loud bellows of joy, so loud that those sheltering in city heard them and joined the rest on the plain. Thorin turned to the Company, “All hail, Bard the Dragonslayer!”
“Hail! Bard! Bard! Bard!”
Bard blushed as his children danced around him in a circle chanting, “Our Da killed a dragon, our Da killed a dragon!”
It was ten minutes before the exuberant cheering finally died down and Bilbo spoke, “It is somewhat of a mess in there. We have a lot of work to do, starting with fixing the gates, or if not replacing them, at least blocking it off. My instincts are practically howling at me and Zirandas has been pecking at me since Smaug died. We are still vulnerable and Smaug wasn’t the only danger around.”
The others nodded. Thorin pointed to Dwalin, Bofur, and Bifur. “I want you three to-“
Before they found out Thorin’s orders, the ground began shaking and rolling beneath their feet. Stones fell for the top of the mountain and the Sentinels heard some of the more damaged buildings in the Dale collapse. No one was able to remain on their feet. The shaking lasted for over six minutes before subsiding and Bilbo looked out towards the south.
A large, enormous plume of smoke rose in the sky. “What is that?!?”
Bard pointed to the the west, “I don’t know but there’s another one there.”
Elladan pointed southwest, “And whatever it is, a smaller one is over there.”
To answer Bilbo’s question we must travel backward in our story a few months and follow one of the original members of Thorin's Company who parted from them after the Misty Mountains. Gandalf the Grey took his horse, whom he had magicked to increase its speed and endurance, to Caras Galadhon, the city of the elves of Lorien, ruled by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.
There in Council he met with Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, and shockingly to the old wizard, his brother Maiar, the blue wizards, Alatar and Pallando.
“We were in the far south, attempting to heal the land and break free some of the chains set on the people when the Rings of Power were gifted to their kings who became the Nine,” explained Pallando.
“We had a vision of the Valar summoning us here several weeks ago and were told that our transportation would arrive in three days. We took that time to say our goodbyes and prepare for a long journey,” said Alatar.
“On the morn of the third day, two Eagles of Manwe appeared before us. They communicated to us that their creator, Lord Manwe, had bid them to assist those who needed it during this quest,” continued Pallando.
Galadriel leaned forward, “Indeed, I arrived in Rivendell so swiftly after the vision that took hold of both Elrond and I due to their assistance. And they returned to fly Elrond and I here after the Company departed the valley. We have a large job with very precise timing required in front of us.
“Thorin Oakenshield and his Sentinel and their Company go forth to destroy the dragon Smaug and reclaim the dwarven city of Erebor. If everything proceeds as the Valar have planned, they will prevail. Unfortunately, the dragon is not the only danger to Erebor.
“The orc lord Bolg has brought together an army of fell creatures under his command. His father was the orc lord Azog who slew and beheaded King Thror - thus beginning the true war to reclaim Moria - and was in turn beheaded during the dwarven war for Moria by Lord Dain of the Iron Hills. He wishes to carry on his father’s quest to end the direct Line of Durin. And to avenge his father. And if he were to succeed this would be a great boon for the Enemy.
“Bolg brings a host of orcs, wargs, trolls, goblins, and war bats to attack Erebor and Thorin's Company. The host numbers in the thousands. Unprepared and unwarned, the Company would be slaughtered and the Lonely Mountain taken by the Enemy for all time.
“The Valar have shown me that it is our duty, the six of us, to stop the army from reaching Erebor. It must be timed to perfection for the plan to work. We will split into two groups, for Bolg plans to use a pincer maneuver to ensure his victory, in case Erebor had any reinforcements from the elves or men of the region. The main force will come from Moria and the Misty Mountains, attacking from the north and another from Gundabad attacking less than an hour later from the south.
“Mithrandir, Celeborn and I will fly on the eagles to cut off the main force in the north while Elrond, Alatar, and Pallando take out the southern force. I will use my powers to communicate with you all so that both of our attacks occur at the same time.”
Gandalf frowned, “My lady, I trust in your visions but how are the six of us to kill thousands of the Enemy’s forces?”
Galadriel smiled. “With magic, of course, my dear Istari. How else?”
Gandalf huffed. “I am a wizard in common parlance, Galadriel, as are my brothers, but we do not wield such power, even with our deaths, so as to succeed with this plan.”
“Oh, but we do, Mithrandir. We do. We are using Bolg’s own cleverness against him and it won’t cost a single one of us our lives. Just a great amount of power.”
Gandalf frowned, “Then shouldn’t the groups be different, my lady? And it is a shame that the Valar recalled Curomo, he was the most powerful of us and would highly useful now. As would Aiwendil who joined the Company to go fight the dragon.”
Galadriel sighed. “Mithrandir, sometimes I wonder if you are hoping the Valar will recall you. Curomo was in the midst of falling and this may have proved too strong a temptation for him. And Aiwendil is needed where he is. The groups do not need you to rearrange them to your liking. You and I bear two of the three elven rings of power, created to fight the Enemy but never actually touched directly by his power. We with the assistance of my husband will take the largest group. Elrond, the bearer of the third elven ring, will be with two wizards of high power to balance out the lack of a second ring, and facing the smaller force, besides. Kindly stop questioning the Valar. If you truly trust my visions as you say, old friend, then trust them!”
The group of six spent the next five weeks planning their attacks and rehearsing the magics needed. At the time when the Company was in a cellar in the Dale and readying to fight a dragon in two days time, Galadriel, Celeborn and the grey wizard who still had to consciously try not to meddle, climbed aboard eagles and flew far northward, while Elrond, Alatar, and Pallando flew north, though not as far, a day later as the Company spent the night guarded by Sigrid and Bain.
As Thorin and Bilbo taunted Smaug within the mountain and the Company set up the harness and the Wind Lances outside it, Gandalf watched in bemusement as Bolg ordered his entire force into a series of tunnels dug by huge Earth Wyrms. He boggled over the hubris of such a move and finally let go of his doubts.
As the final rank of orcs cleared the lip of the tunnels, Galadriel reached out mentally to Elrond, “ How fares your part of the army? ”
“ They are on the move, perhaps twenty minutes until the last is within the tunnel.”
“Very well.”
She turned to her companions. “Elrond reports that in about twenty minutes the army will be within the tunnels fully on both pieces of the pincer. Prepare yourselves. We attack in thirty.”
Elrond’s estimate proves fairly accurate and thirty minutes after Bolg’s northern army moved into the tunnels, Galadriel reached out to all five of her fellow magic users. “ Now! ”
The three rings bearers reached into the heart of their rings of power and the others into the magic that made them an elf Lord or an Istari, and pushed it deep under the earth beneath the tunnels. They forced the formation of fault lines into existence and pushed high tension into them. With the exact timing of the Valar-blessed, each of the six released their hold at the same moment and the fault lines slipped, creating the largest earthquake seen in Middle Earth since the Sundering. The tunnels with the fell armies collapsed, killing every orc, goblin, troll, warg, bat, and earth wyrm with the pressure.
But what the six hadn’t for seen, what the Valar had not shown to their mortal hands was what would happen next. The new fault lines had too much power pushed into them to simply collapse a few tunnels. The cracks under the earth grew larger and longer and deeper. One, created by Galadriel, ran all of the way to the Misty Mountains, and punched a hole under them to a molten river. The lava erupted up through the bottom of the mountain, boiling an underground lake and the twisted creature who called it home, melting its most precious treasure on its way, before engulfing Goblintown, killing the engorged Goblin King and all of his subjects who had not joined Bolg’s now dead army. It blew the top off the mountain and smoke billowed high into the sky.
Moments later, the shade of Sauron, lurking with the released shades of the Nine in Dol Goldur, and posing as a Necromancer, felt the destruction of his Ring and with it his tie to the mortal realm. The power he had built up released itself explosively as he dissipated and Dol Goldur exploded in a fireball that set the surrounding trees alight. As the Nine’s rings lost their tie to the One Ring and their master met his end, so too did they, the prophecy of the Witch King of Angmar came true as his final demise was ultimately at the hand of not a man but an elven queen.
The power in Mordor and Sauron’s strongholds there was released with his end as well, the entire land falling into a sinkhole as Mount Doom collapsed and the land followed, the Sea far to the East rushing in, meeting the molten river of lava that had laid within Mount Doom and causing a giant steam column to rise high above.
Galadriel, Gandalf, and Elrond immediately felt the reduction in power of the rings on their fingers and the Valar gifted Galadriel with a vision of the recent past and urged her and the others to Erebor.
It was midsummer’s day and the celebrations had been particularly fierce within and around the Lonely Mountain. Eight months had passed since the defeat of Smaug, the destruction of Bolg’s army, the melting of the One Ring and the final destruction of Sauron.
Thorin and his Company had secured the mountain while Bard had returned to Laketown to assess any damage from the earthquake. There was little damage, a handful of injuries, and only a few deaths, none of which were mourned by the inhabitants of Laketown.
From the evidence seen after the fact, it appeared that when the quake began, the Master and his guards and underlings had entered the treasury to secure it onto a boat, thinking the dragon was coming. But the quake brought down the stacks of gold and jewels onto their heads when the treasury shelves - shoddily made - collapsed in the shaking. All but one died close to instantly, the only survivor only one for a short while. Alfred Lickspittle had been quick and dodged being hit in the head. Unfortunately for him, instead his dodge put his neck in the line of falling treasure and several sacks of gold coins were found lying across the back of his lower neck which had broken under the increasing pressure. He lived for two hours after the quake, unable to move, surrounded by treasure and dead bodies. The townspeople found him a mere ten minutes before he breathed his last and listened to his whining over the unfairness of his fate, as he had only been following orders. No one found any sympathy for the cowardly boot-licker of a man.
Galadriel, Elrond, Celeborn, Gandalf, Alatar, and Pallando arrived on eagle back within three hours of the quake and over a meal within Erebor that night, they all shared their tales of what had happened to them. Celeborn pledged his assistance dealing with Thranduil or his representative when they inevitably arrived, as Galadriel and Elrond would be returning to their lands before Thranduil would possibly be able to complete the journey.
Thorin had sent for his cousin Dain from the Iron Hills, who arrived less than a week after the quake. He brought a host of dwarrow with him to help hold the mountain. With their help, the blocking of the hole where the gates had been, became actual gates once more.
Over the next month, before the winter set in, in earnest, the dwarrow and the men worked to clean and repair enough homes within Erebor to house them all for the winter. They also began breaking down much of Laketown as no one wanted to live there when a safer alternative - Erebor in the short term and Dale in the long term - was available.
Elrond sent word that the hobbits who had won the lottery had arrived in Rivendell during his absence. And as foretold, it was fully half the Shire, singles, old, young, families, Fallohides, Stoors, and Harfoots. They were led and kept safe by thirty hobbit Sentinels, sixteen of which were bonded to hobbit Guides, four of which bonded to Guides among the Dunedain Rangers who assisted in their migration, and one of which caused an elf to come online when they arrived in Rivendell.
Elrond pledged their safe harbor for the winter and assistance in preparing in spring for the travel through the Misty Mountains. Galadriel knew all of this as well and sent word that her people would meet the migration with ships to use to avoid the Mirkwood, which while no longer as poisoned would still take some great while to recover to its former state of the Greenwood.
Ravens carried messages from the victorious Company to Ered Luin and back, planning the migration of those who wished to return to Erebor by late spring. Multiple caravans would travel dwarven paths and elven paths before boarding Lorien ships, as the Company had and the hobbits would do.
By late May, there were hobbit smials dotting the hills around the mountain, the remaining hobbit Sentinels had bonded to dwarrow Guides, crops were growing in the desolation, Dale was mostly repaired and inhabited fully, Laketown was a series of docks for merchant ships which were arriving from the south and west, and the last dwarven caravan had arrived and settled into Erebor. Thranduil had come himself in early winter, believing that the dragon had left the mountain. Upon discovering a thriving group of dwarrow, men, and a handful of elves within and the dragon dead, he became haughty and tried to intimidate Thorin. Celeborn smacked him down.
This Thorin was a king with a kingdom and allies, not a dwarven child escaping a dragon with his people nor a wandering blacksmith working to provide for his people nor a king on a quest with a firm deadline. Thorin was in a position of strength and Thranduil was in no position to lie to him or manipulate him, especially given his Guide gifts which told him how off balance and near madness the elven king was. In the end, Thranduil sent his son Legolas to be an ambassador to the other races of the region and pouted his way back to his tree throne, cradling the White Gems of Lasgalen in his arms the whole way.
Once the final caravan had arrived, Thorin was officially crowned as King of Erebor and Bilbo as his Consort. Bard was crowned as King of Dale, both by right of blood and his feat in slaying the dragon. The original Company that journeyed to the Shire and Bag End were all given lordships, if they did not already have them, and positions within the mountain kingdom that were to their best taste, as well as a large portion of gold.
Things were well and settled, the kingdoms were on their way to prosperity once more, and the greatest evils were gone forever.
Bilbo and Thorin left the midsummer festivities as dusk settled over the land and returned to the royal suite. Bilbo removed his finery and flopped back on the bed. It had been a long day and he was tired.
Thorin smiled at his consort and lay next to him, gathering him close. “It was a nice festival.”
Bilbo nodded against Thorin's chest. “Yes, very nice mix of hobbit, dwarven and men traditions. No real trouble just minor squabbles and mischievous faults and children. I can’t remember a more lovely midsummer celebration. I rarely attended for long in the Shire, it was always too much for my senses but now, with you, I can more than just survive until my death, I can live my life.”
Thorin kissed his hobbit, the kiss turning quickly passionate and hands of both roaming over each other. Bilbo's exhaustion gave way to the rising passion for his beloved and soon the pair were naked and enjoying each other’s bodies and basking in their bond.
After some hours, their passion spent, Bilbo snuggled against his king and laid a kiss on his bare chest. “I would like to start a jardin, I think. Things are settled, alliances tight, I crave the fruits of the garden.”
“I look forward to it, amrâlimê. I am sure I will enjoy these fruits, as well.”
Bilbo propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Thorin incredulously. “I would hope you would enjoy them, but they will be much work as well, you know. For a great many years.”
Thorin frowned up at him. “I am a dwarf, Bilbo, I’m not really good at gardening. That is more of a hobbit thing.”
Bilbo's mouth dropped open and his brow furrowed. “Um, Thorin, I - I knew that dwarrow were not terribly good at it, your low population shows it, but still, you will try, won’t you?”
“Our low population? Bilbo, dwarrow can survive perfectly well on a diet of meat and fish and birds. Our low population is due to the difficulty our kind have with conceiving young.”
Bilbo nodded. “Exactly. What gardening has to due with eating meat, I don’t know - oh, maybe I do. Are dwarrow like men? You use bodies? I thought maybe because of the lack of room for jardins in a mountain, but that isn’t it, is it? I am not talking about raising tomatoes , Thorin. A jardin is where we will grow our children!”
“Children? You grow children in a garden?”
“Of course, how else would our families be so large?”
Thorin passed out and Bilbo sighed and chuckled. “Wait until I explain what we do to make the seed.”
THE END