redletalis
The Plot Bunnies are attacking!
Thranduil sat on the giant deer. He was in full armour, his two swords at his side. The company of Elves that were with him were also fully armoured, and they waited patiently behind him. The leaves were falling off their branches, the trunks of the trees of Greenwood were greying and darkening as winter came ever closer. And down below, in the valley stretching out from the edge of the trees and widening into a plain in the distance, was what had brought the Elves out in force.
A long line of small beings walked along. To a human they would hardly been noticeable, but to sharp-eyed Elves it was easy to identify them as Dwarves. Bedraggled, dirty, scruffy Dwarves. Thranduil could see every patch on their clothes, could see just how gaunt and tired they were, could see the lack of all those precious jewels and metals that the Dwarves loved to adorn themselves with.
“Do we attack?” Calenglin, the Cpatain of the Guards, asked as he stood next to the giant deer.
“No. These refugees are headed to the Iron Hills.” Thranduil shook his head, pale hair shining in the cold morning light. “Were we to attack it would bring us a war with the dwarves. Besides, look at them. They are already broken, they pose no danger to us.”
Calenglin frowned. “And we are certain that… that the thing they found in Khazad-dûm won’t follow them here?”
“I doubt it. If it has not followed them for the past twenty years, it will most likely not follow them at all.”
“I do not like it, my lord. It could create great trouble for us in the future.”
Thranduil thought for a moment, before shrugging. “That will be the problem of Lothlórien first of all. Imladris will not hesitate to get involved. The problem will likely never reach the borders of Greenwood. I doubt we have anything to worry about.
He gestured and the Elven company smoothly slid away from the edge of the trees. Their movements were swift, orderly and the Elves seemed to simply melt back into the woods naked though the trees were. Soon where was not a single trace left of them, and Thranduil urged the deer to turn and walk in between the tall trunks. The giant horns of the deer barely touched anything as the great animal walked silently.
Calenglin easily kept up with them. “I do not like this at all, my lord. I wish we knew what it was that drove the Dwarves out of Moria in the first place.”
“All accounts from Elrond and Galadriel report the Dwarves calling it Durin’s Bane. Apparently whatever it was also ended the life of their ruler. Quite violently by all accounts.”
“I am surprised that they are advanced enough as a society to actually have a ruler.” Calenglin cast one last look behind them at the line of Dwarven exiles. Then the trees grew too thick for even Elven eyes to pierce, and he turned back around. A few quick steps were all it took to bring him to Thranduil’s side.
Thranduil smirked slightly and continued riding. “Rulers or not, I want the guard to keep an eye on this situation just in case.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall see to it right away.” The Captain of the Guards nodded. “Though I shall have to instruct our scouts not to get too close. After twenty years in exile, those Dwarves are bound to reek. Valar know that they hardly bathe at all as it is.”
The King of Greenwood the Great laughed.
A long line of small beings walked along. To a human they would hardly been noticeable, but to sharp-eyed Elves it was easy to identify them as Dwarves. Bedraggled, dirty, scruffy Dwarves. Thranduil could see every patch on their clothes, could see just how gaunt and tired they were, could see the lack of all those precious jewels and metals that the Dwarves loved to adorn themselves with.
“Do we attack?” Calenglin, the Cpatain of the Guards, asked as he stood next to the giant deer.
“No. These refugees are headed to the Iron Hills.” Thranduil shook his head, pale hair shining in the cold morning light. “Were we to attack it would bring us a war with the dwarves. Besides, look at them. They are already broken, they pose no danger to us.”
Calenglin frowned. “And we are certain that… that the thing they found in Khazad-dûm won’t follow them here?”
“I doubt it. If it has not followed them for the past twenty years, it will most likely not follow them at all.”
“I do not like it, my lord. It could create great trouble for us in the future.”
Thranduil thought for a moment, before shrugging. “That will be the problem of Lothlórien first of all. Imladris will not hesitate to get involved. The problem will likely never reach the borders of Greenwood. I doubt we have anything to worry about.
He gestured and the Elven company smoothly slid away from the edge of the trees. Their movements were swift, orderly and the Elves seemed to simply melt back into the woods naked though the trees were. Soon where was not a single trace left of them, and Thranduil urged the deer to turn and walk in between the tall trunks. The giant horns of the deer barely touched anything as the great animal walked silently.
Calenglin easily kept up with them. “I do not like this at all, my lord. I wish we knew what it was that drove the Dwarves out of Moria in the first place.”
“All accounts from Elrond and Galadriel report the Dwarves calling it Durin’s Bane. Apparently whatever it was also ended the life of their ruler. Quite violently by all accounts.”
“I am surprised that they are advanced enough as a society to actually have a ruler.” Calenglin cast one last look behind them at the line of Dwarven exiles. Then the trees grew too thick for even Elven eyes to pierce, and he turned back around. A few quick steps were all it took to bring him to Thranduil’s side.
Thranduil smirked slightly and continued riding. “Rulers or not, I want the guard to keep an eye on this situation just in case.”
“Of course, my lord. I shall see to it right away.” The Captain of the Guards nodded. “Though I shall have to instruct our scouts not to get too close. After twenty years in exile, those Dwarves are bound to reek. Valar know that they hardly bathe at all as it is.”
The King of Greenwood the Great laughed.
