It came to pass that in the middle of the Third Age Durin was again its king, being the sixth of that name. The power of Sauron, servant of Morgoth, was then again growing in the world, though the Shadow in the Forest that looked towards Moria was not yet known for what it was. All evil things were stirring. The Dwarves delved deep at that time, seeking beneath Barazinbar for mithril, the metal beyond price that was becoming yearly ever harder to win. Thus they roused from sleep a thing of terror that, flying from Thangorodrim, had lain hidden at the foundations of the earth since the coming of the Host of the West: a Balrog of Morgoth. Durin was slain by it, and the year after Náin I, his son; and then the glory of Moria passed, and its people were destroyed or fled far away. Appendix A

Chapter 2: All Evil Things Were Stirring

Galithil laid his hands flat over the shoulder blades of his horse and carefully lifted himself up just enough to ease the soreness of his backside. Riding all day for three straight days was not something he was accustomed to, so he was very glad to be nearing Dolgailon's village.

"Galithil? Galithil, is that you?" a voice called from the trees.

Galithil turned towards it, frowning. He knew no one this far south. Except for those few days surrounding his father's death--and Galithil had been largely secluded in a talan at that time--it had been 35 years since Galithil had been in the south. Even then he lived here less than a year. He could not imagine who could possibly be calling him by name.

A pair of warriors--or perhaps they were village guards--jumped down from a tree and onto the path. The warrior that had called to them walked right up to Galithil's horse. "It is you! What in all of Arda are you doing here, Galithil?" he exclaimed.

Galithil studied him a moment before recognizing him. "Galasserch?" he answered, his face brightening with a broad smile. He slid from his horse and grasped the outstretched hand of the warrior. "Legolas, this is Galasserch. Remember, I told you about him--he was the only other elfling I had to play with when I lived here with Adar." Galithil was looking his old friend up and down. "You are a warrior now!" he said, with obvious surprise, as Legolas also dismounted and moved to greet Galasserch.

"And already in the Southern Patrol? Surely that cannot be. You are not that much older than Legolas and I. You are too young to already be assigned to the south. And I never even saw you training. But," and he paused a moment as he studied the sword his friend and the other warrior were wearing--they were not the sort of sword that village guards carried. They were nearly as fine quality as the swords that Uncle Thranduil had allowed he and Legolas to carry south. They had definitely been issued by the King and the King struggled to arm all the warriors with swords. Arming the guards of hundreds of villages was not something he even attempted to do.

Galasserch straightened and his chest puffed out more than just a little. "I am one of the village's guards. I have been for almost ten years now," he replied, not waiting for Galithil to finish his question.

Galithil's eyebrows went up and his gaze turned again to his friend's sword. "An incredibly fortunate guard to have such a fine sword," he commented.

Galasserch grinned and pulled his sword from its scabbard, displaying it proudly. "It is wonderful. Moralfien, our village leader, gave us all swords soon after she became the village leader. It is truly an honor to have such a sword."

Galithil glanced at Legolas in response to the claim that the village leader supplied the guards with swords. There was a great deal wrong with that statement, not the least of which was the fact that the King did not allow the villages to trade with foreigners, and those swords had certainly not been made in Eryn Galen. Even if such trade was allowed, Galithil knew very well what was involved in the defense of his Adar's village-- the second largest village in the forest and one that lay on the southern-most border. The village was defended by several dozen guards. How could the village leader have paid for enough swords for all of them? And however she managed it, Galithil could not deny he felt a little insulted by the fact that Galasserch was referring to Moralfien as the village leader. Dolgailon was the village leader. Moralfien only acted in that capacity when Dolgailon was not present in the village. To be fair, Dolgailon almost never traveled to visit the village and he certainly did not live here. But still....

Those thoughts were interrupted by the older of the two village guards. "May I ask what brings you here, my lords," he asked. His tone was polite, but his gaze, which moved from Galithil, to Legolas and finally settled on Amglaur, seemed less so. It was sharp, perhaps a bit annoyed, or even resentful. Galithil could not fathom why.

"We are here to speak with the dwarves from Hadhodrond and the elves from Lothlorien that the Southern Patrol reported are present in this village," Galithil answered before Amglaur could speak. "And, since my brother is not available, I am carrying a letter from the King for Moralfien."

The older guard snorted and Galasserch shifted from foot to foot in response to that. "In that case, you should have an interesting visit, my lord," the older guard replied. Then he turned to Galasserch. "Since you seem to know Lord Galithil, perhaps you can see him and the rest of the King's family into the village," he said. "Call for someone to open Lord Dolgailon's talan for them, then come straight back to duty. Do not dally about," he ordered, already making to climb back into the trees himself.

"I am sure we can find our own way to Adar's talan," Galithil replied. "There is no need for either of you to leave your duty if there are no other guards in this area." Then he grinned at his friend. "But come visit me when you are off duty."

Galasserch nodded, grinning back at him.

The older guard glanced at Galithil. Then he looked back up into the trees, not quite succeeding in hiding a scowl. "Your adar's talan," he repeated, muttering under his breath. "Would that it were still Lord Aradunnon's talan, and that Lord Aradunnon were still here to occupy it." He pulled himself up onto a low branch.

Galithil's eyebrows rose and he exchanged an inquisitive look with Legolas as the guard disappeared in the tree.

Tulus was also looking after the guard with a concerned expression, even as he addressed himself to Legolas. "I need to speak to the captain of the village guard and look into a few other security issues. If it suits you, I will go see to that now."

"You do not need me, do you Tulus?" Galuauth asked. "I will escort both Legolas and Galithil into the village and you can brief me later on anything you learn from the village guards."

"That seems to be a good idea," Tulus replied. He turned back to Legolas and Galithil. "By your leave then, my lords."

Amglaur waved his hand to dismiss Tulus, already striding past him swiftly, anxious to get into the village and speak to the Lothlorien elves.

To Legolas's amusement Tulus did not seem to accept Amglaur's dismissal. He was still looking at Legolas. "Of course, Tulus," Legolas replied, trying to stifle a smile.

Tulus sketched a bow and followed the older warrior and Galasserch into the trees. Legolas hurried after his grandfather into the village.




*~*~* 

Legolas seated himself next to his grandfather at one of the long tables in the village's public hall. Galithil sat on Amglaur's other side. Amglaur gestured for Maenil and Pauron, the elves from Lothlorien that they had traveled to speak with, to seat themselves on the other side of the table. Without any preamble, he asked them to relate what had happened in Lothlorien to drive them to flee that realm.

As they began to speak, Legolas glanced around the hall. He had visited a few villages near the stronghold with his mother, but the buildings in those villages were all very simple. He had spent a few days in this village after Aradunnon had been killed, but he had been wounded himself, and mourning his uncle's death. He did not explore the village. He was impressed with what he had seen here so far. This hall was large--clearly designed for holding court--and nearly as elaborately decorated as the Great Hall in the stronghold. Legolas recognized some of the tapestries in it as his mother and grandmother's artisanry. The carvings on the woodwork were clearly Crithad's handiwork. Somehow, he had never thought of his mother or friend's father as having ever lived anywhere but in the village around the stronghold, though he knew both had moved to the stronghold after Thranduil ordered it built. Seeing evidence of their past lives in the southern part of the realm, when it was green and bright, seemed odd and a little sad.

"At first our kin from the northern forest streamed into Caras Galadhon with nothing more than frightening tales," Maenil was saying in a hushed voice. Her husband, Pauron, sat next to her, grim-faced, holding her hand.  

Legolas brought his attention to the task at hand. A glance at his grandfather made him pause. Amglaur's posture was stiff and his jaw clenched as he leaned forward, toward the Lothlorien elves, as if he could will them to tell their story more quickly. He looked exactly as Thranduil did while listening to a warrior report damage that orcs had done to the forest. This was not a side of his grandfather that Legolas had ever seen.

"For the first few weeks," Maenil continued, "there were not that many of them. Then, over a month or so, there were more. And after the largest groups of them had moved through, the wounded began to appear."

Pauron nodded. "Orcs," he whispered and looked from side to side as if one might jump out from behind one of the pillars in the hall. "Orcs attacked them. Some of them...many of them...were mortally wounded."

Maenil covered her mouth with her hand and bowed her head at the memory.

Legolas kept his expression carefully neutral, as he was required to do in his father's court, but his mind raced with questions. The primary one he wanted to ask -- of his grandfather, not of Maenil or Pauron -- was: how is it that these Lothlorien elves were so overwhelmed by an orc attack? It was terrible that 'many' elves had been killed. That was certain. But, warriors and even villagers were regularly killed by orcs in Eryn Galen and, while people grieved, they did not run away as these elves apparently had. Their reaction made no sense to Legolas.

Amglaur sat silently, waiting with visibly decreasing patience for Maenil or Pauron to continue. When they did not, he leaned forward even more to draw their attention. "The warriors drove the orcs out of the forest, surely?"

Maenil looked up at him. "The warriors kept the orcs out of Caras Galadhon," she confirmed. "Mostly. But in the open forest, especially nearer the borders..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

Amglaur's eyes widened. "There are so many orcs that Amroth cannot keep them out of the forest?" he asked, voice rising. "And what do the dwarves have to do with it? Have the orcs attacked Hadhodrond as well? That would be absurd. All the dwarves have to do is close their gates and stay underground, just as they did throughout the wars in Eregion and Mordor."

Legolas frowned slightly in response to that. The way he had learned it, some dwarves had fought in both those wars.

Both Maenil and Pauron were again shaking their heads. "The dwarves have to get out of Hadhodrond. They cannot shelter there with the evil creature that has arisen inside the mines. That is where the orcs are going, we think--to join the evil thing that has taken over Hadhodrond."

Amglaur's jaw fell open and he did nothing to try to hide it. "What evil creature?" he exclaimed. "And are you saying that the dwarves--all of them--have been driven out of Hadhodrond?"

Maenil and Pauron both nodded. "They made a stand after Durin was killed...."

Legolas and Galithil both audibly gasped in response to that.

".... Their next King--I do not remember what I heard his name was--he fought the evil creature for almost a year now. But he must have fallen as well because for the last moon the dwarves have absolutely poured out of the mountain, my lord," Maenil replied, "From both the Hollin and Dimrill Gates, we heard."

"And orcs are swarming in," Pauron added gravely. "Unchecked by either the dwarves' armies or by our warriors."

Amglaur stared at them for a long moment. "Do you believe that I should go to Lord Thranduil and ask him for aid on Lothlorien's behalf? Has it come to the point where Lord Amroth would welcome such aid?"

Maenil looked away from Amglaur in response. Pauron only managed to meet his lord's gaze for a moment longer before he also looked down. "Many people have fled Lothlorien," he said softly. "The terror there is great, between the orcs' attacks and the rumors we hear of an even more powerful evil so nearby in Hadhodrond." He drifted off and bit his lip. Then he looked back at Amglaur. "Amroth was among those that fled, my lord. He went looking for Nimrodel earlier this summer. They went together, with a few others, to the havens, we heard."

Legolas froze in place in an effort not to react to that statement. Beside him, he heard Galithil draw a sharp breath before quickly stifling the sound. Amglaur blinked and a choking noise escaped his open mouth before he pressed his lips shut. Then he blinked again and shook his head slightly, reduced to stunned silence.

"You are surely mistaken," he finally said. "Lord Amroth would not abandon Lothlorien. Certainly not at such a time of need."

Maenil and Pauron looked at their hands. "Many of us abandoned Lothlorien, my lord," Pauron replied. "Amroth included."

"But not everyone left?" Amglaur asked. "Some of the people are still in the forest?"

Pauron nodded. "Many are loath to leave, but...well, for us at least, it is too terrible. We preferred to come here."

"And that is your privilege, but staying here is not a privilege I share. Thank you for speaking with me about this," he said stiffly. Then he stood and turned away from them without another word.

Legolas and Galithil nodded a quick thank you and goodbye to them and hurried after him.

"I need to find the swiftest way to get a message to Thranduil," Amglaur said to Galithil when he and Legolas caught up with him. "Do you know if this village has birds to carry messages to the stronghold?"

Galithil nodded. "It does," he said.

"Get me one," Amglaur ordered.

*~*~*

"Here are the last of the medicines,"  Galuauth said, dropping a large sack filled with smaller sacks of herbs onto a table in the village healer's cottage, where she was housing and treating the injured dwarves. Two dwarves occupied pallets against the wall; another sat on the floor next to the pallets.  The injured dwarves were immobile and a large portion of their bodies bore open, bloody wounds covered by loose bandages.

The smell in the room was nauseating. Legolas had heard warriors complain that dwarves and men did not hold to the same standards of cleanliness that elves did. Indeed, Legolas remembered the one group of warrior men that he had met could indeed have profited from some time in the river. But these dwarves did not smell as if they needed a bath. The cottage smelled of burned and decaying flesh. It was all Legolas could do not to gag. He opened the sack Galuauth had carried into the cottage and began to unpack its contents, hoping the herbs Nestoreth had sent would smell fresh. He and Galithil pulled out the little sacks of medicine and lined them up along the edge of the table while the Salabeth and her assistant began taking stock of them.

One container--a jar wrapped inside a thick cloth--fell heavily from amongst the sacks of herbs. Legolas caught it before it rolled off the table and began to remove the cloth so it would be less wobbly.

"Argh!" he exclaimed, shoving the jar to arm's length and pulling his hands away quickly.

The cloth wrapper pulled even further off the jar, revealing a slithering, squirming mass of bugs.

"Whatever was in there has obviously gone bad," Legolas said, eyeing the jar with a disgusted expression.

Salabeth and her apprentice smiled at him. "No," she said, "Nestoreth intended to send us a jar of maggots. We will use them to treat the dwarves' burns. They eat the dead flesh and thus help to clean the wound."

As if the smell in the room was not bad enough! Legolas looked at the healer in horror. "You are going to do what?" he asked. "Put those on the dwarves? And you think they will let you do that?"

The healer's smile broadened. "They will if they want to survive those burns and avoid a great deal of pain. The alternative is that I can scrub off the dead flesh."

Legolas stared at her a long moment. Then he looked at the dwarves' wounds. Finally, he looked at Galithil. His cousin was swallowing. Hard. Legolas understood that. He picked up the cloth that had covered the jar and draped it over the top of it.

"Hopefully one of these herbs is something to make them sleep while you clean their wounds then, whichever method you use to do it," he said quietly. "We will help you mix the medicine, if you like."

The healer looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

"We are certainly not Nestoreth's apprentices," he explained, "but the King often has us help her, either by grinding up the herbs or mixing pastes or rolling bandages or even holding things for her while she treats someone. We have helped often enough in the infirmary that if you show us what you need done, we can do it properly," he said.

Next to him, Galithil nodded.

Salabeth picked up several sacks of herbs and began spilling their contents into bowls. "I do not think the King sent his sons to this village to play healer for our dwarves. Please feel free to go about whatever your true business might be here, my lords. We can manage the dwarves, especially now that we have more medicine. Thank you for delivering it and please give our thanks to Nestoreth and the King."

"Our business is to speak to the dwarves," Galithil replied.

Salabeth studied him skeptically a moment. Then she shrugged. "Suit yourself, my lord. They will need a good deal of care, so I am happy to have any assistance. Help if you will and try to speak to them as you wish. Perhaps you can explain the use of the maggots. I do not doubt that you are right they will resist that treatment if they do not understand it. But, fair warning: do not expect the dwarves to talk to you. None of them have spoken to us yet. Not a single word. I think they are in shock from whatever it was that caused their injuries and that is certainly understandable. It was obviously quite traumatic." She paused and picked up a pair of small cauldrons. "We will begin their treatment by grinding these marigold flowers as finely as possible and then scooping them into these sacks. We will make a tea out of them that will help heal the wounds once they are better cleaned. I will start water boiling." She curtsied and then turned to walk away, signaling her assistant to come with her. 

Legolas followed their movement with his eyes and, in doing so, he noticed the sitting dwarf was looking at him. Staring, in truth. The dwarf's hand covered the hand of one of the immobile dwarves. A family member, Legolas thought. A brother or father. The sitting dwarf's beard was short. Legolas wondered if it was singed and therefore shortened or if the dwarf was young and his beard was not fully come in yet. Unlike the other two dwarves, his clothes were blackened in places, but not burned through and his skin was unnaturally red, but not bloodied or charred. Probably a child, Legolas concluded. Less injured than his family because they had shielded him from harm as parents naturally do for their children. The dwarf never took his eyes off Legolas as he began to grind the herbs.

*~*~*

"Did you see the message your daeradar sent to the stronghold?" Galithil asked after they had worked silently for quite some time. He spoke in a very soft voice, but even so, he spoke in Westron. The subject of that message was not for public discussion.

Legolas frowned and tied off the little sack full of dried marigold flowers in his hands. Then he dipped it in the steaming water that Salabeth had brought over from the hearth, jostling it until the entire sack submerged below the surface of the water. He had seen his daeradar's message. He just did not really want to talk about it. He plucked the spent sack of flowers out of the other pot on the table and cut it open without answering his cousin's question, scraping the mushy flower petals off the cloth and onto an ever-growing pile of spent herbs.

Galithil began dipping the fresh bandages that Salabeth had given them into the marigold 'tea.' "With Lord Amroth gone, Amglaur is not going to be returning to Lothlorien temporarily. You know that, right?" he pressed.

Legolas sighed and nodded without looking up from the task of dumping more flowers into the newly cleaned sack and tying it closed again.  "Obviously not," he replied, submitting to the inevitable. When Galithil wanted to discuss something, he would never be deterred. "Daeradar is the King of Lothlorien now. Kings tend to live in the lands they rule." Legolas hardly needed Galithil to remind him what happened when kings were lost. He knew his daeradar had to do his duty to his people, but even so, Legolas already missed Amglaur. Moreover, he worried about him traveling into unknown dangers in Lothlorien. To be fair, he knew Galithil did as well. Amglaur had become a second father to him. He was the playful side of Aradunnon's personality in contrast to Thranduil's role as the responsible parent. Amglaur's departure would be a loss for them both. Legolas knew he should not be sharp with his cousin. He just couldn't seem to help it.

Seeking distraction, Legolas turned his gaze to the dwarves on their cots. The two badly injured dwarves were perfectly still--the one only just beginning to stir a bit from the sleeping draught he had been given, the other still unconscious. The uninjured one was looking at Legolas again. No distraction there--only reminders.

"Daeradar is focused now on how he can most swiftly get to Lothlorien and what he will need to do immediately upon arriving there," Legolas said. "Which of Amroth's advisors and captains he must speak to, which ones he most hopes are still there, what information he wants from them to hold Lothlorien together and prevent more of his people from fleeing, whether he can ask for help from Eryn Galen and what good it might do. I imagine that is what is going through his mind right now. It is only a matter of time before he realizes that these dwarves know what he most needs to know--precisely what enemy he is facing. Once that thought occurs to him, he is going to charge in here and start demanding answers from them." He loosed a quiet, scoffing laugh. "Knowing how Daeradar feels about dwarves, that conversation will not go well."

"Your adar is going to be right behind your daeradar asking questions and demanding answers," Galithil responded. "Once he hears that Lothlorien's king and a good portion of her people have fled the forest...when he hears there are not just a few injured dwarves, but rather that the entire dwarven realm has been destroyed...." He lowered his voice to a bare whisper despite the unlikelihood that anyone in the village spoke Westron, "Khazad-dum is only a few days travel from where we are right now, Legolas. Whatever destroyed the mountain fortress of Khazad-dum could do the same to open forest very easily. Worse, if it destroyed a dwarven stronghold as deep as Khazad-dum...a stronghold built into a solid mountain range...it could easily destroy our stronghold here. This is no minor news. When your adar hears it...well, I think that to say he is going to react very badly would be a rampaging understatement."

Legolas looked over at his cousin sharply. How had he not thought of that himself! Adar would be in this village as fast as his horse could carry him, and Legolas knew exactly how fast that horse was. He also knew the horse was not kept in shape to be that fast and strong for racing, but rather to carry his father into war. Was a threat that destroyed two kingdoms one that Thranduil would challenge in open battle or was it one that would force him to lead the people of this forest further north? The only way to know that was to know exactly what the threat was. He turned his attention back to the dwarves and began to stand.

The young dwarf sat up a bit straighter and his expression tightened.

Legolas stopped without stepping away from the table. "The two injured dwarves need to be left to rest, Salabeth said. And the uninjured one...."

"Salabeth said he is traumatized, I know," Galithil said with obvious skepticism. "I have never heard of a traumatized dwarf. Rodonon taught us that dwarves were tougher and stouter than even elves in battle. But we were sent here for a reason: to find out what happened to those dwarves. We still need to do that, now more than ever. We have to speak to the uninjured one, traumatized or not."

"I think he is a child, Galithil," Legolas said. "Rodonon also said men do not get beards until they are adults. Look at that dwarf's beard. It is not nearly as long or full as the other two, and their beards are scorched. Maybe Dwarves are like Men and their beards are not full until they are adults. If he is a child...and maybe one of those injured dwarves is his father...and neither of them appears to be his mother...."

Galithil shook his head and practically flinched away from looking at the dwarves, obviously sharing the pain of the young dwarf that had likely lost one parent and might still lose the other. "You are right," he conceded quickly. "We cannot try to press the child. Perhaps one of the others. If one of them could talk to us, and answer the questions we were sent to ask, maybe Uncle and your daeradar would be satisfied and leave them alone."

"The other dwarves are too badly injured to focus on our questions," Legolas countered. "There has to be another way to find out what attacked Khazad-dum." He looked at Galithil as a thought occurred to him. "Maenil said that dwarves were pouring out of Khazad-dum, so these cannot be the only three dwarves to ask about what has happened there. We need to find other dwarves to ask."

Galithil laughed grimly at that. "There are obviously no other dwarves in this village, Legolas. They are all undoubtedly exactly where these dwarves and Maenil and Pauron came from--the plain between here and Lorien. I do not think Tulus will agree to escort us there and I think he might notice if you make another excursion on your own--not that it would matter to you if he did notice after you were killed by the same orcs that have been attacking Lorien and Khazad-dum."

Legolas made a sour face at his cousin and then glanced Galuauth, who was still with them, helping prepare the herbs to treat the dwarves. Tulus was indeed still angry with Legolas for slipping into the forest while they were hunting and Legolas did not appreciate Galithil making light of that here, in front of Galuauth.

In response to Legolas's expression, Galuauth raised an eyebrow. "I cannot speak for Tulus, but I think Galithil is probably correct," he confirmed, but his tone was more joking than forbidding.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Obviously I am not suggesting that we should go to the border looking for more dwarves ourselves. But the Patrol will surely see more of them. We should send a message for them to look out for Dwarves and approach them when they see some. We can question those dwarves, or they can be brought to the stronghold for Adar to speak to. We will eventually have to find more adult dwarves, anyway. The adult dwarves we have here are looking at a very long recovery, if they even survive, and they will not want to stay here through all of it, but they will need help traveling. And the child will need someone to escort him to where ever the dwarves intend to refuge. We do not have any idea where that might be and even if we did, the child needs one of his own people to take him there and look after him. We need to find more dwarves, and since we do, I think we should wait to question those. It is wrong to ask the child about battles and it is unlikely he understood what he saw well enough to provide useful answers anyway."

Galithil pressed his lips together, apparently finding no argument against that.

Galuauth scowled. "Unfortunately, Legolas is correct," he said. "And that is a very serious problem because Galithil's evaluation of the risks to this realm was also very accurate. The warriors need more information to prepare a better defense." He paused and studied the dwarves. "I still think you should try speaking to the younger one. He is almost the size of an adult dwarf, from what I have seen of dwarves. Maybe he is an adolescent. If he is, he might be able to handle speaking of what he has seen. You will not know until you try. And the King was wise to send you both to do this. Neither he nor Lord Amglaur will manage the conversation as gently as you will, much less now that they know how serious this situation is. If you can get any information, you would have a better chance of satisfying the King and protecting the child."

Legolas looked back at the sitting dwarf and considered that. Then he sagged a little. "You are probably right," he said softly. Then he looked at Galithil. "Do you want to try to speak to him or do you want me to do it?" he asked.

Galithil drew a deep breath and stood, taking a reluctant step towards the dwarves.

The uninjured dwarf stood and faced him squarely. "I will speak to you, sons of Thranduil," he said in Westron, his voice sounding raw, probably from breathing smoke. "If for no other reason than I know your Lord King well enough to know that he will not speak to me as kindly as you are speaking about me.  Besides that, you have both been generous to help the healers in their work, so I am inclined to speak to you in payment for that generosity. But mostly I will speak to you because you are correct that your Lord King has the right to know whatever I can tell him about the evil that threatens his realm. Thranduil is gruff, but he has treated us fairly in all our dealings. I owe him that."

Legolas and Galithil exchanged a surprised look in response to that announcement. Legolas was surprised by how strongly the dwarf spoke and by the fact that he apparently knew Thranduil and recognized Legolas and Galithil for who they were. But mostly Legolas was surprised by the dwarf's voice--though raspy, it sounded familiar to him. How could that be? He had only heard two dwarves speak in his entire life--the one the patrols captured almost twenty years ago and Durin's representative from Khazad-dum that had negotiated with his father on several occasions. Legolas's eyes widened and he looked back at the dwarf. He and his cousins never saw either of those dwarves very clearly, having spied on the King's meetings with them without permission. This could not possibly be....

The dwarf's grave expression lightened momentarily in amusement. "Nis, at your service," he said with a bow that allowed his short beard to touch the floor.

"Galithil and Legolas," Galithil pointed at himself and then at his cousin. "At yours and your family's," he responded automatically with the phrase Rodonon had long drilled into him. Both Legolas and Galithil returned the bow.

"Pardon me," Legolas added quickly. "Nis, of the House of Durin?"

"That is correct," the dwarf responded, bowing again. "Nis, daughter of Dalin, Durin's brother." Now the dwarf's expression appeared almost mischievous as she pointed to herself. "Daughter," she repeated, "and that explains why my beard is less impressive than my husband and brother's," she explained, gesturing at the two injured dwarves.

"I beg your pardon," Legolas replied solemnly. He could feel heat rising in his face. He had certainly insulted the dwarf--both by mistaking her gender and by insulting...her...beard. He decided from what he had learned about dwarves, the beard was the greater of the two evils. "It is a fine beard, certainly."

The dwarf's expression grew stern again. "Finer than any you are likely to manage. The only elf I have ever seen with a decent beard is Cirdan and his is not a full as mine," she concluded, stroking the length of her beard.

Legolas only nodded, completely at a loss for any acceptable response. How did one respond after insulting a dwarf's beard? A female dwarf, no less. With a beard!

Nis took pity on him and addressed the topic at hand. "I regret that I cannot tell you what creature it is that has driven us from Khazad-dum. I saw it. My husband and brother both fought it. But none of us had ever seen anything like it, so we cannot say what it was. But I will tell you how we have fought it, so that you may know the failed strategies that are not worth repeating should it venture out of the mountain." She raised her eyebrows. "Will your Lord King, who would not, in your words, press a child for details of a battle, be angry with me for sharing those details with his own children? You must be children still, after all. Unless the Elves now normally require their advisors to spy on meetings from under a tapestry hanging behind the throne."

Legolas grimaced and looked behind him at Galuauth. If the guard were to repeat that bit of information to Thranduil.... But Galuauth did not react at all to the dwarf's question. He only continued looking at her evenly, with no change in his expression at all.

Galithil shook his head. "The King sent us specifically to speak you and find out what had attacked your kingdom. He will only be angry if we manage to learn nothing," he answered.

"Very well," Nis said. She settled herself to sit on one of the cots. Legolas and Galithil came over to the cots as well, and sat in the chairs the healers had been using while treating the dwarves. "As I said, we do not know what manner of creature it is that attacked our home. It originally arose from the deepest shaft in the mithril mines. The workers there had struck a new vein of mithril...a very promising one...and they were cutting away large pieces of granite to determine the vein's full size. When none of those workers came to the dining hall at the end of the day almost a year ago, their wives and children went to look for them. When they also did not return, warriors were sent to investigate. The one that managed to return told us, before he also died, that he saw smoke and heat as if from a huge forge arise from cracks in the mine's floor. Then fire erupted all around him and all his comrades were set ablaze. He escaped only because he was in the rear of the search party."

"Surely it was a dragon?" Galithil asked quietly. "Breathing fire?"

Nis shrugged. "We thought that might be the case at first, though how one got into the mine shafts, we had no idea. So, despite the promising new vein of mithril, our miners began to work to seal the mine shaft where this creature was killing our people. Let it sit in there and rot. Let it see how long it might live on mithril and granite, we thought. Nothing molested the workers while they made the preliminary cuts at the entry to that shaft, but when they returned to make the final cuts and collapse the shaft entirely, the evil arose again and this time it did not stay in the mines. It came out, into the halls of Khazad-dum, burning everything in its path. Our King led his best warriors to drive it back. They were all killed. Their axes and armor--all steel--melted like wax in a forge, I was told. Nothing was recovered of them, so steel alone is no use against this evil."

 Legolas and Galithil stared at her with wide eyes.

"The Woodland Realm grieves the loss of Lord Durin, my lady," Legolas finally said softly.

"Indeed. And my cousin and I, personally, are sorry for the loss of your Uncle and King," Galithil added.

Nis nodded stoutly, without looking at them. "Durin's son, Nain, sent warriors after the creature--which we then named Durin's Bane. This time, they were clad in mithril armor."

Legolas and Galithil tried not to react to that. There was not enough mithril in the Woodland Realm to plate a shield, much less full armor. Much less full armor for an entire army.

"Mithril lasts longer--much longer--in the face of this enemy. In mithril armor and wielding our best swords, those protected with enchantments, we were able to drive Durin's Bane back into the mines. But swords do not seem to wound it badly. It is large--as tall as the flets you Elves live in are high in the trees. And it appears to be made of fire itself. Of molten rock and smoke. Its form is hard to discern and it is even harder to land a solid blow upon it. Eventually, even the best swords are made brittle by exposure to the creature's fire. And even protected by mithril armor, our warriors were burned badly attacking it. We held it in the mines at the cost of many warriors. We tried flooding the passage we held it in, to extinguish its fire. The water turned to steam and burned our warriors. We tried crushing it by collapsing passages, but it seemed to seep through the rocks, uninjured. And then the orcs began attacking from without, while we still had to fight Durin's Bane from within. When Nain was killed a little over a moon ago, his young son, Thrain, our new King, decided the mountain was lost. We fought our way past the orcs at our gates and fled. Fortunately, Durin's Bane did not seem interested in leaving Khazad-dum and so it did not pursue us. The orcs did, however, and some of us," she glanced back at her husband and brother, "were already wounded fighting Durin's Bane. Escape under those circumstance is very difficult. My sister, brother's wife and I were separated from the others during an orc attack. We managed to escape the orcs, but my sister and sister-in-law were killed. I was very lucky to have been found and helped by the Elves that brought me here, I do not deny it. Without their aid and willingness to share food and water, I could not have carried my husband and brother to safety. It is my intent, when I am able, to join our new King in the Grey Mountains, where he has decided to establish a new kingdom amongst our kin there."

Legolas and Galithil exchanged a surprised glance. The Grey Mountains!

"How could you have carried either of them, much less both, any distance by yourself? And how could you hope to travel alone all the way to the Grey Mountains?" Galithil asked before he could stop himself.

Nis stood, lifted her chin and pulled herself up to her full height. "I am Nis, Dalin's daughter, of the House of Durin. They are my husband and brother. How could I not? I pulled one on his litter a few paces and then went back for the other and so forth, making as much distance as I could each day. The Grey Mountains and the safety and protection of my kin will not move to me. I must move to them."

Legolas stared at her a long moment. "I am certain that once you and your husband and brother are ready to continue traveling, the King will provide you a safe escort, at least to the northern border of the forest. There, you will be close to the mountains. In the meantime, I will be sure that the King knows that members of Durin's household are here, in case there is anything else that either he or his healer think might aid in your family's recovery."

In response to that, Nis bowed again. "We are in your debt," she said.

*~*~*

"Legolas, my lady. And his cousin, Galithil, along with Lord Amglaur and at least three guards that we have seen," the villager said, speaking almost in a whisper.

Moralfien allowed her annoyance to show with a single raised eyebrow.

"One of the guards is Galuauth," Dannenion added swiftly, stepping closer to speak into her ear, while Dolwon lingered against the wall of the talan, wringing his hands. "Galuauth came into Thranduil's service long after Lindomiel joined the court. He will not know you." He paused. "But Amglaur will certainly remember you. And so will his guard, Hurion. Worst of all, the last guard is Tulus."

The brow climbed higher. Moralfien turned her gaze to Dannenion and regarded him silently.

*~*~*

Adar -- Father

Daeradar -- Grandfather

Hadhodrond -- the Sindarin name for Khazad-dum