Not Quite As Expected
Chapter 4: Laketown
Thranduil felt the Dwarf's hands loosen on his belt as the weight of Glóin's head sagged into his back between his shoulder blades, and he caught at the sleeping Dwarf's hands before they could slip any further. He hadn't expected Glóin to sit up the entire night; he'd expected the exhaustion from the ride to have carried him off to sleep long before then, or to be awakened at some point before dawn to take his turn at watch. But no, his stubborn travel companion had been bleary-eyed and downright grouchy from the moment he'd roused from his dreams, so Thranduil had taken charge of getting them both bread and fruit to start the day, as well as readying the horses.
There had been no luring the Dwarf into conversation either. The few questions he'd asked, Glóin had grunted monosyllabic answers that sounded distinctly bored. So he'd nudged Aduial into a smooth lope and kept track that the hands at his waist remained well tangled in his belt. Knowing Legolas, and knowing that it was probably his son's idea that he travel with this particular companion, it wouldn't do for Glóin to simply drop off by the wayside – although a perverse voice in the back of his head questioned whether a being that compact and short wouldn't just bounce when it hit the ground.
Already, the trees were thinning; if memory served, an hour, maybe less, would see them on the outskirts of Laketown. There would be plenty of signs of habitation long before that, however, and Thranduil didn't quite smirk at the thought of how he would bring the Dwarf out of his sleep. Glóin snored, he was discovering; perhaps it was best that he caught up his sleep during the journey, rather than keeping them both awake through the night.
His estimation of how close they were to the beginnings of civilization was off – already he had sped past the first holding – and the moment he had passed the next one, he slowed Aduial down to a trot. Just as he had expected, Aduial had taken less than two or three jolting steps before he could hear the Dwarf snorting himself awake again.
"Wha's happening? Where are we?"
"Just outside Laketown, my sleepy friend. I thought that you would rather not present a first impression of yourself as dozing carelessly snuggled against an Elf's back." It was hard to not snicker. An Elf lord – much less the Elvenking – should not snicker, but it was so very tempting. As it was, Thranduil's lips twitched with the effort of keeping them closed and preventing sound from escaping.
"Good idea." Glóin grumbled and seemed to struggle to not lean into Thranduil's spine anymore. Thranduil's smirk died with the lack of at least a small expression of gratitude. See if he protected the Dwarf's reputation again, at this rate! Hands took a more desperate hold on the belt. "Must we endure having our innards scrambled with this bouncing merely because we near a city of Men?"
Reluctantly Thranduil brought Aduial back to a gentler walk. "Is that better?"
Glóin merely grunted again.
No, he definitely wouldn't be protecting the Dwarf's reputation after this.
It had been years since last he'd been in Laketown, not since being given a tour of the newly-rebuilt structures two years after the place had been reduced to ash by the dragon Smaug. In the time since, evidently, many more Men had come to live in that place, for the construction of buildings extended onto dry land much further than he remembered, and a scorched wall of upright timbers protected the bulk of the city. How long had it been now since he had visited? Half a yen already? He found himself trying to remember the names of the Mortals who had last made the trek to his Halls to renew trade agreements.
"King Thranduil? As I live and breathe!"
Oh, dear! What was this man's name again? Beren? Boron? He'd met so many of them since he'd taken his father's throne. Thranduil pasted on a wide smile. "My good man! It is good to see you again!" He pulled Aduial to a halt and threw his leg over his neck to dismount with a spryness that hid the aches. "I see your people thrive."
"That we do, that we do… Wait!" The Man peered up at the Dwarf still perched on the rump of the war stallion. "Glóin? Glóin Gróin's son? Is it really you?"
To his credit, Glóin managed to focus on the Man and then smile widely. "Bellas! By Mahal's beard!" He turned and glared at Thranduil. "Do you think you could…"
Oh, the temptation! "Of course." Thranduil put up a hand and yanked none too gently, but steadied the Dwarf upon landing so as not to shake him up too badly.
It earned him a glower and a less than sincere-sounding "Thank you."
"What are you doing so far from your mountain, old friend?" the Man continued, now pumping Glóin's arm up and down so vigorously that Thranduil feared for Glóin's balance this soon after dismounting.
Glóin finally managed to retrieve his hand. "We, that is… Thranduil and I… are on our way to Ithilien. Big formal ceremonies going on there that neither of us wanted to miss, you see."
Bellas looked around Aduial and down the road that they had just traveled. "Alone?" he asked incredulously, and then gazed at Thranduil. "Where is your escort?"
Thranduil shrugged. "My warriors have enough to do that I need not drag them from their tasks."
Thick, dark eyebrows rose on the man's face. "From the tales told of your visits here from long ago, I thought you never went anywhere without a nicely armed escort."
"Considering the distance I intend to travel, and the fact that the land is at peace for a change, I did not see the need." He would definitely make certain that any trade negotiations from now on happened in his Halls and not in Laketown. The last thing he needed was to have his Battle Master – who ever insisted on being part of any foray outside the woods, except this one – hear of this Bellas speak of this incident in future. It would be bad enough when he got home to live down the lectures and worries.
Thranduil watched and managed somehow not to squirm as the Man's lips twitched and were unsuccessful at repressing an amused smile. "Of course," Bellas replied, his eyes starting to twinkle. "It is good to see you… both."
"As a matter of fact, we could use your help," Thranduil ground out finally, deciding to move on past the source of the embarrassment. "We are hoping to catch a ride with one of your trading barges down the Celduin to the Old Forest Road. Is there anyone preparing to leave soon?"
"Funny you should ask that. As a matter of fact, there is a barge set to leave for points south anytime now, but we've been having trouble with some… shall we say, pirates. I'm not certain when – or if – the barge will actually head downriver, to be honest." Now it was Bellas' turn to look chagrinned.
"Pirates?" Glóin sounded incensed. "This isn't the Falas…"
Thranduil held up a hand. "Before we jump to conclusions, Master Bellas, perhaps we could find an inn, with comfortable seating…"
"Of course! Of course! Where are my manners? Come, follow me." With an exaggerated wave of his hand, the Man led the way into the tangle of streets and wooden boardwalks that made telling whether one was on dry land or over the lake difficult except for the slightly hollow sound beneath the horses' hooves. "Do you want Dorlan to see to your mounts?"
"It will not be necessary," Thranduil spoke up quickly. "They will wait for us outside."
Bellas' eyes showed his surprise and disbelief. "Suit yourself." With that, he led the way through a darkened doorway and into a large common room. "Morast! Three of your best ales!"
Thranduil could feel Glóin's eyes on him, and he looked down with a slight shrug. He didn't necessarily prefer ale, but he had been known to choke it down from time to time. He also was fairly certain this was not a good time to be finicky. He rounded the nearest empty table and sat down on the stool. "Now, tell us of these so-called 'pirates' of yours."
Bellas waited until the swarthy innkeeper had deposited three pewter tankards of foaming brew on the table and left before starting. "We think it's some of them Easterling fellows what visited us at the end of the War. We had our share of fighting hereabouts, just as I suppose you had. I saw the smoke in the West…"
It took effort not to flinch. Thranduil didn't like to remember those days of first fierce fighting against almost overwhelming numbers of yrch; and then, when suddenly all the heart went out of the Enemy and they had turned to flee, leaving yet another fierce battle for the Elves against the flames that threatened the entire forest. "It was a sore time for us all, Master Bellas," he said finally, finding it little comfort to note that Glóin was somber-faced and nodding all too tiredly as well. Had even the Dwarves in Lonely Mountain been assailed? He'd have to ask… "But about the pirates…"
"Yes." Bellas waved his hand vaguely, as if dismissing the topic that brought Man, Elf and Dwarf together in common ill memory. "Well, anyway, the moment we started to re-establish our trade routes down the River Running to the Sea of Rhûn, our barges started to be attacked from the banks. Archers take out the bargemen, and then…"
"And you know this how?" Glóin asked with a skeptical growl.
"Survivors make it to the opposite shore and then come back to tell the tale." Bellas drooped on his stool. "Once the bargemen are down, them Easterlings bring out their little rafts and just… well, by the time the barge makes the next landing, it's empty and just drifting on the current." He shrugged. "The barge waiting to sail today carries almost a whole year's worth of trade with our partners to the south because we haven't dared send it out as yet, nor have they attempted to send their own barge northward."
Thranduil's brows were pulled together. "But, if you successfully defended your city against the Enemy, surely you have warriors…"
"We did, such as they were…" Bellas nodded. "But our forces had nice, strong walls to hide behind, and plenty of water to keep the wood from burning through. I'm certain you noted the scorch marks on them as you came into the city. We fought a defensive battle here, King Thranduil. We had few archers, and even fewer swordsmen. We simply held off a siege until the heart went out of them."
"Until the Enemy's Ring went into the Fire," Glóin clarified grimly.
Thranduil tapped his right forefinger against the rough-hewn table even as he sipped at his ale. "How many archers do you still have?"
Bellas gaped at him. "Maybe three in town now. Most of them have returned to their farms…"
"How many did you have for the siege?" Thranduil interrupted calmly.
"Twenty-five what survived, when all was said and done." Bellas looked grim. "We lost over a hundred…"
"How long to call them all together again?"
Glóin looked over at his traveling companion. "You've a plan. I can tell."
"I dunno," Bellas shrugged, not even noting the Dwarf's contribution. "Maybe a day – possibly two. Why?"
"What are you thinking?" Glóin demanded again.
"Tell me, Master Bellas, if my companion and I help you in defending this barge against your latest problem, we can call it a fair trade for transport to the Old Forest Road Landing?" Thranduil pressed, his eyes narrowed in thought.
"If you get this barge past those thrice-blasted Easterling thieves, I guarantee that your passage is without cost to you." Bellas tapped a determined finger into the table. "If you not only get the barge past the Easterlings, but help rid us of our problem with them altogether, I will personally see to it that your realm is given free space on our barges to facilitate trade up and down the Celduin for the next ten years."
Thranduil's brows rose sharply. "Have you the authority to make those kinds of promises, Master Bellas?"
The Man drew himself up proudly. "I am the head of the Merchant's Guild this term. That promise is very much within my authority." He put out his hand. "Have we an agreement, King Thranduil?"
Thranduil turned to the Dwarf. "What say you, Master Glóin? Do you feel up to matching wits with a few Easterlings with me?"
Glóin's smile was slow, but it was wide. "I have an axe that would very much like to be a part of whatever mischief you are thinking of committing on them, Elf. See if you can stop me."
"Very well then." Thranduil grasped the Man's hand firmly. "Call in your archers. The barge will leave early two mornings from now. Will that be enough time to bring in about half of them?"
"You'll have as many as I can get by dawn tomorrow," Bellas swore solemnly. "But you'll have to overnight. I can make arrangements with the innkeeper here for comfortable rooms, and I'll care for your horses in my own stable for the night, if that's agreeable to you."
"A bed?" Glóin nodded contentedly. "I like the sound of that! A bed is better than a bedroll on the ground."
Thranduil nodded too. "We await your pleasure, Master Bellas – although you will only have to care for one animal."
oOoOo
Thranduil could feel the Dwarf's outrage simmering behind him as he followed the innkeeper up the narrow stairs, and he had to admire the fact that Glóin managed to wait until they were at last alone in the small room they'd been given before the sputterings became audible. "You just turned him loose, and you think that he's going to make it all the way back to your Halls and…"
"Aduial knows the urgency of my request," he replied patiently, slinging his share of bundles onto one of the lumpy-looking beds. He'd probably be regretting not just camping on the edges of the city. "And the note tied to that borrowed headstall is fairly clear."
"You put too much faith in an animal!"
"And you put not nearly enough!" This was getting neither of them anywhere. "The fact is that, as much as I did not want an escort on this journey, we have need of a small company of Eryn Lasgalen's finest. What better way to send for them?"
Glóin threw his hands out to his side. "Oh. I don't know – maybe speak to one of the sparrows or crows in the forest and have them fly to…" His hands dropped and sharp brown eyes glared at him with an intensity that would have lit kindling, had it been close enough. "A better question is just what do you intend to do if your war-mule doesn't come back? Or is Saw… Sor…" He threw a frustrated wave at Thranduil. "You know… The other horse…"
"Saerôl."
"Yea. Is that mare able to be as good as…"
"Aduial will return. It was part of what I told him."
"But if he doesn't…"
"Master Dwarf, if Aduial does not return with a mounted squad of my best archers by this time tomorrow, I will…" Thranduil cast about for something that the Dwarf would consider adequate recompense in a wager. "I wager I will walk Saerôn all the way to Ithilien, regardless of how much longer it will take us to get there. But…" He raised a long forefinger. "…if Aduial is back with my archers, as I requested, you will cease to harangue me about the intelligence of my stallion, my abilities to speak to him or any other creature of the forest, and…"
"By this time tomorrow, you say?" Glóin's eyes were bright enough to indicate that the Dwarf was actually considering taking him up on the wager.
Thranduil turned and eyed the sky almost at the same moment Glóin did. What time of day was it, after all? "That is what I said…" he replied archly.
The Dwarf came towards him with his hand outstretched. "You have yourself a wager, King Thranduil. Shake on it."
"You think I will not honor the terms of our wager without this…" Thranduil gaped, his brows sliding together.
Glóin's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you are too good to seal a wager with a Dwarf in the traditional fashion?"
"Your tradition, perhaps…"
"You didn't have any qualms about shaking Bellas' hand a little while ago."
"That was different! That was an agreement."
"Same difference. No shake, no wager." Glóin's voice was challenging, just as was the outstretched hand. Drat the Dwarf! Did he have any idea how much Thranduil was going to enjoy not having his stallion, much less his empathy with the living creatures of Ennor, impugned all the time.
The larger hand nearly swallowed the smaller, but the grasp was just as tight, just as firm and just as determined as the other. "Very well, Master Glóin. We have, by the tradition of the Dwarves and the honor of the Elves, a wager."
"Good!" It seemed the wager had put the Dwarf in a much better mood than he'd been in for the morning. "So what do we do until this time tomorrow?"
Thranduil adjusted his sword at his belt and gestured vaguely at Glóin's axe. "I am thinking that we should take a look at this barge, and see how best to make use of both the mortal and Elven archers, when we have them."
Glóin reached out and hefted his battle axe. "Lead the way, then. I'm right behind you."
"As it should be."
"I heard that!"
oOoOo
Bellas paused outside his guild house as the afternoon began to wind down and stretched his arms out wide as he looked around his city. It didn't take long before his gaze was captured by the sight of the Elvenking and the Dwarf, deep in discussion not far from the wharf where the barge was tied up.
That, he had to admit, had to be the least likely pair of traveling companions he'd ever seen in his life. Coming upon them together on the back of that magnificent stallion had been quite the shock, only to be followed by deep surprise at the way in which the two interacted. The Elvenking had lost none of his regal airs from what he'd displayed when Bellas had been part of the negotiating team to visit the mountain halls Thranduil called home. Certainly he still felt more than entitled to take charge of the situation, even one as far from his normal sphere of influence as the one in question.
And yet, the Dwarf seemed to have no fear of the Elf whatsoever. In fact, in watching them interact, it was soon very obvious to Bellas that they were not so much deep in discussion as they were arguing. Toe to toe, and neither backing down, it was a comedy of contrasts. Tall and golden had squared off with short and grizzled brown and silver, and neither looked willing to give an inch. Thranduil was pointing to the barge, and Glóin was shaking his head vehemently and pointing elsewhere. Arms were flying with both of them, and neither was paying attention to anything else around them at the moment. And yet…
It was subtle, but they were listening to the other, Bellas suddenly realized. Whatever the topic under debate was, it had obviously been going for on quite a while; and while they still seemed to be doing more frowning than nodding agreement, from time to time one or the other of them would get a very thoughtful look on his face and respond quite calmly and evenly. Unfortunately, it would only take one or two more exchanges after that before they were at it again.
Well, if they were debating whatever it was King Thranduil had in mind, Bellas at least knew he'd done his part as requested. The word had gone out. What archers would be available would hopefully begin arriving sometime the next morning.
And were he not married, and expected home for his supper in fairly short order, Bellas would have dearly loved following them back into the inn and finding a quiet corner so he could listen in as those two no doubt continued arguing over their supper. Something told him that the experience would have been worth it.