Sorry, random title, and sorry I haven't been on for a few days! My brain couldn't come up with anything to write about. So, today is just an off-the-wall, whatever comes to my mind day.
Started Deuteronomy yesterday and so far, it's just recapping over their journey. But so far I am enjoying it. I love Joshua, so I really can't wait to get to him!
Saw Spider-man 2 for the first time yesterday. Very interesting, and now I must see the third one. I wish Harry didn't go bad though. Or Peter. Humph.
Wrote a lot of Elvish today, just random words. I hope to begin learning it in earnest soon!
Home alone tonight, because my sis has dance recital pictures and my dad's still at work.
And finally, 16 days and counting until Prince Caspian!
Just a thought (or five),
Flinn
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
New Trailer Pics
I know you guys are probably SO sick of my Prince Caspianess, but I CAN'T HELP IT!!! Here are a few more shots from the latest trailer... and some others.
Just a thought,
Flinn
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Today in Flinn's World
Hello my friends!
Thanks for your comments. You guys rock!
The Door Within Forum is back online! WHOOT!!! Another whoot, I just finished reading the book of Numbers! I have been trying the read the whole Bible because I realized there are some books I've never looked into. So I will be starting on Deuteronomy tomorrow.
At this moment, I am reading on my spare time The Ranger's Apprentice: The Battle for Skandia, and Halt (for those of you who haven't read it, he's the teacher/master dude for Will, the apprentice) is in a very sticky situation right now. I hope he gets out of it soon and unharmed!
I saw the movie 10,000 B.C. last night. My opinion: don't waste your time or money. It's just OK, and there is a lot of ancestry/ indian spirit worship stuff in it. Ick.
I hope you all have a good day!
Just a thought,
Flinn
Thanks for your comments. You guys rock!
The Door Within Forum is back online! WHOOT!!! Another whoot, I just finished reading the book of Numbers! I have been trying the read the whole Bible because I realized there are some books I've never looked into. So I will be starting on Deuteronomy tomorrow.
At this moment, I am reading on my spare time The Ranger's Apprentice: The Battle for Skandia, and Halt (for those of you who haven't read it, he's the teacher/master dude for Will, the apprentice) is in a very sticky situation right now. I hope he gets out of it soon and unharmed!
I saw the movie 10,000 B.C. last night. My opinion: don't waste your time or money. It's just OK, and there is a lot of ancestry/ indian spirit worship stuff in it. Ick.
I hope you all have a good day!
Just a thought,
Flinn
Monday, April 21, 2008
My Grandfather
First off, I want to thank you guys for your prayers. It's good to have people lifting you up. I really appreciate you guys!
Second of all, I am semi-sad, semi-proud to say that he passed away this morning. It was rather sudden, but I'm not all that sad about it, because I am absolutely sure that at this moment he is in heaven right now. And, I'm almost positive that the first thing he did was rush into the arms of his Lord. But the second thing was run straight to my grandmother's arms and swing her around in a giant bear hug.
Last night, I was kind of thinking about my grandmother, and thinking over the last day with her. The last thing I told her was that I loved her. I believe that's the last thing I told him too, besides perhaps a short phone call wondering if my mom was home. Yesterday my mom went to visit him at the hospital and when she left, my grandfather said,
"Tell them girls I love them." My mom replied, "Ok, I will, Dad."
"Don't you forget," he pressed.
"I will, Dad!" And then my mom left.
So, since I know that he's in heaven right now, it's not that hard to let him go. I feel, once again, thrown into Aidan's shoes, and now I mirror his thoughts...
"It's ok Mom," said Aidan. It's ok.
Flinn
Second of all, I am semi-sad, semi-proud to say that he passed away this morning. It was rather sudden, but I'm not all that sad about it, because I am absolutely sure that at this moment he is in heaven right now. And, I'm almost positive that the first thing he did was rush into the arms of his Lord. But the second thing was run straight to my grandmother's arms and swing her around in a giant bear hug.
Last night, I was kind of thinking about my grandmother, and thinking over the last day with her. The last thing I told her was that I loved her. I believe that's the last thing I told him too, besides perhaps a short phone call wondering if my mom was home. Yesterday my mom went to visit him at the hospital and when she left, my grandfather said,
"Tell them girls I love them." My mom replied, "Ok, I will, Dad."
"Don't you forget," he pressed.
"I will, Dad!" And then my mom left.
So, since I know that he's in heaven right now, it's not that hard to let him go. I feel, once again, thrown into Aidan's shoes, and now I mirror his thoughts...
"It's ok Mom," said Aidan. It's ok.
Flinn
Friday, April 18, 2008
Prayer, Please
My grandfather is not doing very well tonight. In the space of two days, his breathing, thought function, and just spirits have gone down. Please pray for healing, but if it is his time to go, please pray that my family and I would be prepared for the worst. Thanks.
Flinn
Flinn
Thursday, April 17, 2008
OH!!!
I found this the other day, and to all you Will Turner fans, this should make you happy about Pirates 3. This is an actual post from one of the writers of the films, talking about what becomes of him and Elizabeth....
Pretty close ...
Posted by Terry on Wednesday, 23 May 2007, at 12:31 p.m., in response to Re: Ah, that Davy Jones curse thing ..., posted by curious mate on Wednesday, 23 May 2007, at 8:55 a.m.
I don't know that I would say, "forbidden." There might be some story to be told where Elizabeth manages to make a trip to the land of the dead, with the help of someone, etc., etc., to find Will, etc.
But the basic requirement is that Will agrees captain the Flying Dutchmen (in return for what the film reveals) and that he can step on land but once every ten years, and that at any time, if he finds a love that is true (this is part of the original Flying Dutchman opera by the way) then his attachment to the ship is broken.
Just a thought,
Flinn
Pretty close ...
Posted by Terry on Wednesday, 23 May 2007, at 12:31 p.m., in response to Re: Ah, that Davy Jones curse thing ..., posted by curious mate on Wednesday, 23 May 2007, at 8:55 a.m.
I don't know that I would say, "forbidden." There might be some story to be told where Elizabeth manages to make a trip to the land of the dead, with the help of someone, etc., etc., to find Will, etc.
But the basic requirement is that Will agrees captain the Flying Dutchmen (in return for what the film reveals) and that he can step on land but once every ten years, and that at any time, if he finds a love that is true (this is part of the original Flying Dutchman opera by the way) then his attachment to the ship is broken.
Just a thought,
Flinn
A New Poll!
Choices, choices, choices! The Hobbit, The Door Within, or Prince Caspian first? Only one answer! It was hard for me to choose...really hard. What's your vote? Let me know!
Just a thought,
Flinn
Just a thought,
Flinn
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
More story...almost done!
Hang on! The story's almost done.
King Thranduil, Bard, Mithrandir, Dain, and Bilbo all sat at a long table in the Elvenking’s tent. The Battle had been won, but barely. The Eagles had left their home in pursuit of the Goblin horde and had swept down upon them like a sudden storm. If not for their exploits, the fight would have surely been lost. Thorin too, with the rest of his group, had left the Mountain and joined in the battle, but he himself had been slain, along with a few from his company. Gandalf’s arm had been badly gouged, but could easily be mended. Keirdron’s body had been found among the dead, shot through with a poisoned Goblin arrow. But there had been no sight nor sound of Legolas since the first onslaught, and the King was beginning to worry.
A few serving Elves brought in some bread and wine, which was downed with little enthusiasm. None spoke, and if they did it was in hushed tones. Thranduil was wondering what could have happened to his only son. Bard pondered the sudden resolve of the held-up Dwarves in the Mountain. The mind of a wizard is one that cannot be breached. Dain was tallying off the dead of his army, and little Bilbo was envisioning his feather mattress back at home, and a warm fire, and a full plate of eggs and bacon, with a side of toast.
Suddenly there was a great murmuring outside the tent. The voices of many surprised men and woeful Elves were heard. Mithrandir looked up slowly. King Thranduil followed his gaze. What could it mean? thought the Elvenking. There was an unspoken agreement that they all wished to find out, so without a word the group got up and exited the tent. All except Bilbo, who was rather exhausted and had fallen asleep at the table, a slice of cheese in his hand. The sky was still dark, and the stars were gone, but the moon shone out palely behind the clouds. A figure was staggering up the path towards them. He was cloaked, but his hood had fallen back, revealing a youthful face and shining brown eyes. He seemed to be carrying a heavy load, for another shape was in his arms, and his steps were slow and deliberate. The figure stumbled once, but kept on. As the stranger drew closer, Thranduil cried out, and ran to the approaching person. Mithrandir, studying him with narrow eyes, called to him.
"Aragorn! Of all the unlooked for guests, you I must say, are one of the most pleasant."
Elessar stood before them, with the Elvenking close at his side. Gandalf had been smiling, a rare gift from a wizard, but the grin vanished as quickly as it had come. For in the arms of the Ranger was the body of an Elf. His clothes were slashed and soaked with blood and some of the crimson liquid stained the side of his face. Around his neck was a golden chain dripping with red, holding a Greenleaf charm. And in the center, the image of the Evenstar shone brightly in the darkness around them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warmth. There was something hot nearby. The smell of burning wood and a pronounced popping sound every so often. Pain. A burning sensation and a deep throbbing. Breathing was hazardous, for it sent out a new wave of soreness. Light. A yellowish-golden light that grew brighter as he opened his eyes. For a moment he stared at nothing, but soon his eyes began to focus. He was in a royal tent by the look of the furniture, and a fire blazed in a small hearth nearby. It danced in the way flames do, twisting and lapping at the air around it. Suddenly that same deep throbbing pain erupted in his chest. He breathed out sharply and took in a shuddering breath. A firm hand was placed on his shoulder. The darkness blocked his vision again and his head began to swim. Then the pain dulled, and slowly, the black was turned to grey, and then that yellow-gold. A shadow passed above him and his glanced drifted slowly upward. Elessar stood over him, examining his face. The grim Ranger mouthed some words but no sound followed. Then gradually, as if somewhere within him something turned up the volume in his head, he made out the voice.
"Can you hear me, Legolas?"
The Elf swallowed and his throat felt thick. He tried to speak, but the words caught inside him. Instead, he nodded painfully. Elessar knelt next to him and placed a stained rag to his head. Another wave of throbbing. Why was it that healing sometimes hurt worse than the wound itself? Legolas struggled to regain his voice. All that came out were two words.
"...my father."
"Your father is safe," said a deep voice from the corner. Mithrandir stepped forward into the light. "He left with Bard to settle the matter of the gold owed to Esgaroth. You, on the other hand did not come out so lucky as he."Legolas looked quizzically around him.
"You are in your father’s tent," said Gandalf as if reading his thoughts. "You were brought back here by Aragorn last night, and here it is night again. You’ve slept the whole day away!"
"Do you have any memory of the battle?" asked Elessar.
"Yes," he replied quietly. "At least...I think so." Aragorn replaced the bandage on his chest. Legolas sucked in air through gritted teeth.
"What does one expect when they meet up with the business end of a Goblin axe?" asked Elessar, fastening the bandage. "That demon was about to add you to the list of casualties."
"I owe you my life," said Legolas. "Arwen is truly blessed to have your affection." Aragorn’s grim expression softened a little at the thought of the Elven maiden.
"I do not deserve it," he said quietly. "She is far more than I could ever hope for." Legolas smiled weakly. Arwen had chosen well. The darkness was beginning to dim his vision again, but this time it was inviting and warm. He was safe, with friends around him, and he fell into a deep, refreshing sleep, his mind’s slumbering eye wandering beneath the trees of his homeland and to the stars above them.
King Thranduil, Bard, Mithrandir, Dain, and Bilbo all sat at a long table in the Elvenking’s tent. The Battle had been won, but barely. The Eagles had left their home in pursuit of the Goblin horde and had swept down upon them like a sudden storm. If not for their exploits, the fight would have surely been lost. Thorin too, with the rest of his group, had left the Mountain and joined in the battle, but he himself had been slain, along with a few from his company. Gandalf’s arm had been badly gouged, but could easily be mended. Keirdron’s body had been found among the dead, shot through with a poisoned Goblin arrow. But there had been no sight nor sound of Legolas since the first onslaught, and the King was beginning to worry.
A few serving Elves brought in some bread and wine, which was downed with little enthusiasm. None spoke, and if they did it was in hushed tones. Thranduil was wondering what could have happened to his only son. Bard pondered the sudden resolve of the held-up Dwarves in the Mountain. The mind of a wizard is one that cannot be breached. Dain was tallying off the dead of his army, and little Bilbo was envisioning his feather mattress back at home, and a warm fire, and a full plate of eggs and bacon, with a side of toast.
Suddenly there was a great murmuring outside the tent. The voices of many surprised men and woeful Elves were heard. Mithrandir looked up slowly. King Thranduil followed his gaze. What could it mean? thought the Elvenking. There was an unspoken agreement that they all wished to find out, so without a word the group got up and exited the tent. All except Bilbo, who was rather exhausted and had fallen asleep at the table, a slice of cheese in his hand. The sky was still dark, and the stars were gone, but the moon shone out palely behind the clouds. A figure was staggering up the path towards them. He was cloaked, but his hood had fallen back, revealing a youthful face and shining brown eyes. He seemed to be carrying a heavy load, for another shape was in his arms, and his steps were slow and deliberate. The figure stumbled once, but kept on. As the stranger drew closer, Thranduil cried out, and ran to the approaching person. Mithrandir, studying him with narrow eyes, called to him.
"Aragorn! Of all the unlooked for guests, you I must say, are one of the most pleasant."
Elessar stood before them, with the Elvenking close at his side. Gandalf had been smiling, a rare gift from a wizard, but the grin vanished as quickly as it had come. For in the arms of the Ranger was the body of an Elf. His clothes were slashed and soaked with blood and some of the crimson liquid stained the side of his face. Around his neck was a golden chain dripping with red, holding a Greenleaf charm. And in the center, the image of the Evenstar shone brightly in the darkness around them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warmth. There was something hot nearby. The smell of burning wood and a pronounced popping sound every so often. Pain. A burning sensation and a deep throbbing. Breathing was hazardous, for it sent out a new wave of soreness. Light. A yellowish-golden light that grew brighter as he opened his eyes. For a moment he stared at nothing, but soon his eyes began to focus. He was in a royal tent by the look of the furniture, and a fire blazed in a small hearth nearby. It danced in the way flames do, twisting and lapping at the air around it. Suddenly that same deep throbbing pain erupted in his chest. He breathed out sharply and took in a shuddering breath. A firm hand was placed on his shoulder. The darkness blocked his vision again and his head began to swim. Then the pain dulled, and slowly, the black was turned to grey, and then that yellow-gold. A shadow passed above him and his glanced drifted slowly upward. Elessar stood over him, examining his face. The grim Ranger mouthed some words but no sound followed. Then gradually, as if somewhere within him something turned up the volume in his head, he made out the voice.
"Can you hear me, Legolas?"
The Elf swallowed and his throat felt thick. He tried to speak, but the words caught inside him. Instead, he nodded painfully. Elessar knelt next to him and placed a stained rag to his head. Another wave of throbbing. Why was it that healing sometimes hurt worse than the wound itself? Legolas struggled to regain his voice. All that came out were two words.
"...my father."
"Your father is safe," said a deep voice from the corner. Mithrandir stepped forward into the light. "He left with Bard to settle the matter of the gold owed to Esgaroth. You, on the other hand did not come out so lucky as he."Legolas looked quizzically around him.
"You are in your father’s tent," said Gandalf as if reading his thoughts. "You were brought back here by Aragorn last night, and here it is night again. You’ve slept the whole day away!"
"Do you have any memory of the battle?" asked Elessar.
"Yes," he replied quietly. "At least...I think so." Aragorn replaced the bandage on his chest. Legolas sucked in air through gritted teeth.
"What does one expect when they meet up with the business end of a Goblin axe?" asked Elessar, fastening the bandage. "That demon was about to add you to the list of casualties."
"I owe you my life," said Legolas. "Arwen is truly blessed to have your affection." Aragorn’s grim expression softened a little at the thought of the Elven maiden.
"I do not deserve it," he said quietly. "She is far more than I could ever hope for." Legolas smiled weakly. Arwen had chosen well. The darkness was beginning to dim his vision again, but this time it was inviting and warm. He was safe, with friends around him, and he fell into a deep, refreshing sleep, his mind’s slumbering eye wandering beneath the trees of his homeland and to the stars above them.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Newer Prince Caspian Pics!
I am SO stoked about this upcoming movie! And it looks like they are keeping one thing that I really wanted them to pull from the book. Aslan getting bigger as the children get older. So without further ado...
Monday, April 7, 2008
More Story...sorry.
The next day dawned cold and grey. Legolas stepped out of his tent and gazed at the sky: a mass of clouds, no sun. He made his way through the maze of tents that spread out that way and this and headed towards the river. But before he got there the cry of a messenger was heard throughout the camp. An army of Dwarves was seen heading towards the mountain, and their leader appeared to be Dain. The force boasted of axes and iron caps, and they looked ready for battle. The call to arms was heard next, and the sound of it sent a sharp pang of thrilling excitement through his body. It was time. The battle for the mountain would begin soon. In his heart he had been longing for the day, and when it came, such a fire was lit within him that you could see the light of it shining in his eyes. The army lined up, and Legolas joined his father at the front line. Bard and Bilbo went out to meet the approaching branch of the large Dwarf army. Not much of what was said Legolas could hear, but the duo returned soon.
"Well, what did they say?"asked Thranduil.
"In a polite way," said Bilbo, "they basically told us ‘You have no business here; we are going on, so make way or we shall fight you!’"
"But for the moment their attack is stayed," said Bard. "I will send a messenger up the mountain to see if the payment in gold is there as promised. Then I will leave this desolate place and gladly!" So a scout was sent back up the Mountain. But when he returned, his arm was soaked with blood.
"What happened?" Thranduil called.
"There was no gold my lords," replied the Elf, somewhat through gritted teeth. "Only arrows."
Bard was furious.
"We attack, and attack swiftly! Before they can be rested from their march. Let us set upon them!" The fire of battle leaped up in Legolas’ heart.
"Long will I tarry, ere I begin a war for gold," replied Thranduil. "Let us wait while–"
Suddenly a great shout was heard from the east. While the Men and Elves had debated, the Dwarves had seized the opportunity. With a roaring battle cry they charged forward. Arrows began whizzing towards and around the armies of Mirkwood and Lake Town. It wouldn’t be long; Legolas drew his two knives, spinning them each twice in succession. Even more suddenly, a darkness suddenly covered the sky. In winter the cover overhead was dark, but something else hurried across it. Lightning flashed at the top of the Mountain. Whatever the darkness was, it was coming their way and coming fast.
"Halt!!!" came a voice from behind. Suddenly Gandalf rushed forward. He stood between the two armies and held his hands aloft. "Halt! Dread has come upon you all! Alas! it has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their train!"
Goblins? Bats? Wargs? How did those horrid creatures hear of this? The thoughts whirled in everyone’s head, but there was no time. Mithrandir called Dain to join the Men and Elves and fight off this new army that had arisen, and as there was no time to argue, he did so speedily. The Dwarves all formed ranks among the other two armies and prepared for the coming storm. The huge cloud of bats blotted out most of the remaining light from the sun, making things even more confusing.
"To the Mountain! To the Mountain while there is still time!" called Bard. With great haste, the armies moved all around the base, arrayed themselves accordingly, and readied their weapons. The Elves were on one side, the Dwarves on one, and the Men on another. The Goblin army came ever nearer. As soon as they were within range, a volley was released, but the darkness above them caused many shots to go astray. Legolas’ heart was pounding. The time was ripe, the enemy before them. With great ferocity, he twirled his knives faster and faster. Adrenalin surged through him, and he bounced slightly from foot to foot, awaiting the signal. Finally, the moment came. Keirdron came forward, and in a loud voice shouted out the call: "CARRIO*!!" With a great shout, the armies of Mirkwood charged forward. Legolas raced on like one of his own arrows released from the string. In a few more paces, the battle would begin. He was close enough to see the ugly face of the nearest Goblin, who shrieked loudly at him, his jagged sword raised. Then...clash!! The whole force surged into the ranks of the yrch*. Legolas slashed his knives before him, and the first creature fell, screaming. He ducked a blow to the head and came from behind, driving both tips deep into the back of another. Black blood spurted out and covered the Elf’s hands, but that mattered little to him. With one knife he sliced the throat of an opponent, and with the second he swiped the legs out from under another. After the initial onslaught of the Eldar began, a cry was heard from behind, and down charged Dain and Bard, their armies behind them. The combined forces pushed foward. The Goblins were beginning to route the field. A smile crossed Legolas’ face, but then disappeared. A shrill cry rang out from above. A vast majority of the cursed yrch* had scaled the sides of the mountain, and were firing down upon the armies below. Any who tried to climb up after them found an arrow in their chest and met a very unpleasant end by falling back down to the earth. Any thought of victory vanished. They had only stemmed the first tide.
A swirling, swarming mass of Elves, Men, Goblins, and Dwarves suddenly surged around Legolas. It was absolute organized chaos. Suddenly, a body slammed into the Elf’s back. He turned to find a dwarf, brandishing his axe at a Warg nearby. The short, stubby figure had obviously not even noticed that he had run into another. But then, it was hard to tell in all of the confusion. The young-looking Dwarf had a iron cap on his head and his face almost disappeared in the mass of his red, braided beard.
"Come on!" it was the gruff voice of the Dwarf. "Bring your pretty face to my axe!" Then, from somewhere nearby, another deep voice called:
"Gimli! Get your sorry hide over here. You’re axe is needed at the front!" Gimli growled.
"This isn’t the last you’ll hear of me," he called to the Warg. He turned around and once again smacked into Legolas.
"Watch where you're going, pointy ear!" he growled. Then he sauntered off.
Dwarves, Legolas said beneath his breath.
The Goblins reformed their lines and sent their Wargs out before them. They came fast and full of fury, and it was all Legolas could do to keep them at bay with his arrows. Soon, the armies were overrun. The Elf spotted Bard a little ways away. Through the blur of bodies in motion, it was hard to tell what exactly the state of their combined armies were. Legolas spied Gandalf, and although his arm bled, he seemed none the worse for ware. Dain was putting up a fair struggle with a giant of a Warg, but he was too far off for Legolas’ shafts to be of any help.
Keirdron had been killed in the second assault. That left...
Legolas searched this way and that for his father, but could not find him. A sword swung down at him, but he blocked it with crossed knives and sent the foul creature into eternity. He fought his way to a high point at the very feet of the mountain and sought for a better look. The bats swarmed the heights now, and an strange darkness covered the sun, making it even more difficult to see. But with his keen Elven eyes, Legolas spotted at the far end of the field his father, surrounded by the last of the Elf lords, who were bound to protect their king at all costs. But one by one, they were being picked off, and soon the Goblins would reach Thranduil. A new fear shot through the Elf prince. And a new anger and hatred. With a great cry he charged once more into the fray of battle. His onslaught was fierce and terrible. It looked as though the fire in his soul was carried to his knives, for they seemed to be devoured in a white flame. Left and right he cut down his enemies. He would not let his father die. Not while he himself still lived. His attack was stayed as Goblins suddenly crowded the area around him. From every side, every angle, they came at him with all they had; swords, spears, arrows and axes. It was all Legolas could do to dodge, block and parry. He was close now, so close that he could see the fear that marked the Elf lords’ faces. With all his might he tried to fight his way through the swarm of bodies, but every time they filled in with more. At the edge of his hearing, he caught a sound. A voice. It was shouting something, and it was coming from his right. What was it saying? Through the chaos around him he strained to hear the words. Then, very faintly he caught the last of it.
"Elendil!!!" it cried. It was followed by the sound of metal against metal. Legolas knew the voice, but somehow he couldn’t place it. But soon the sound was fitted with a figure, for out of the mass of black shapes a person in a grayish-green cloak surged towards the Elven King and his defenders. His clothes were tattered and dirty, his youthful face marked with stubble, and deep brown eyes could just be seen beneath the hood. Legolas slashed hard at the giant of a Goblin before him. A renewed sense of joy mingled with worry filled his heart. Once more he fought forward, his knives swinging. The cloaked figure caught sight of the approach of the Elf out of the corner of his eye and turned. And at once Legolas was sure of the face.
"Eles—" but the Elf’s cry was cut short. A sudden sharp pain gashed across his chest, and the words caught in his throat. The knives dropped from his hands, and it seemed that everything moved in slow motion. He tried to take in a breath and got a raspy, unstable gasp in return. His vision blurred and his hands went absently to the source of the pain. They came back completely covered in dripping red. Blood. His own blood. Another huge Goblin had come forward while his attention had been turned. Now, Legolas looked into it’s slant-eyed face, then to it’s dripping axe. His legs gave way and he slammed to his knees. His breaths were becoming ragged and were beginning to sound wet. A sudden cough seized him and he spit out the blood that came to his mouth. Through the mass of ever darkening bodies around him, Legolas caught another glimpse of the man he had recognized. He was desperately pushing towards the Elf, slashing his sword left and right.
"Elessar," Legolas whispered. He felt another blow, this one to the side of his head. Warm liquid began to run down his face. A pair of strong arms grabbed the Elf and pulled him back before he would have fallen forward. The last thing Legolas saw was the brooding face of a jeering Goblin. Then everything fell into darkness.
"Well, what did they say?"asked Thranduil.
"In a polite way," said Bilbo, "they basically told us ‘You have no business here; we are going on, so make way or we shall fight you!’"
"But for the moment their attack is stayed," said Bard. "I will send a messenger up the mountain to see if the payment in gold is there as promised. Then I will leave this desolate place and gladly!" So a scout was sent back up the Mountain. But when he returned, his arm was soaked with blood.
"What happened?" Thranduil called.
"There was no gold my lords," replied the Elf, somewhat through gritted teeth. "Only arrows."
Bard was furious.
"We attack, and attack swiftly! Before they can be rested from their march. Let us set upon them!" The fire of battle leaped up in Legolas’ heart.
"Long will I tarry, ere I begin a war for gold," replied Thranduil. "Let us wait while–"
Suddenly a great shout was heard from the east. While the Men and Elves had debated, the Dwarves had seized the opportunity. With a roaring battle cry they charged forward. Arrows began whizzing towards and around the armies of Mirkwood and Lake Town. It wouldn’t be long; Legolas drew his two knives, spinning them each twice in succession. Even more suddenly, a darkness suddenly covered the sky. In winter the cover overhead was dark, but something else hurried across it. Lightning flashed at the top of the Mountain. Whatever the darkness was, it was coming their way and coming fast.
"Halt!!!" came a voice from behind. Suddenly Gandalf rushed forward. He stood between the two armies and held his hands aloft. "Halt! Dread has come upon you all! Alas! it has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their train!"
Goblins? Bats? Wargs? How did those horrid creatures hear of this? The thoughts whirled in everyone’s head, but there was no time. Mithrandir called Dain to join the Men and Elves and fight off this new army that had arisen, and as there was no time to argue, he did so speedily. The Dwarves all formed ranks among the other two armies and prepared for the coming storm. The huge cloud of bats blotted out most of the remaining light from the sun, making things even more confusing.
"To the Mountain! To the Mountain while there is still time!" called Bard. With great haste, the armies moved all around the base, arrayed themselves accordingly, and readied their weapons. The Elves were on one side, the Dwarves on one, and the Men on another. The Goblin army came ever nearer. As soon as they were within range, a volley was released, but the darkness above them caused many shots to go astray. Legolas’ heart was pounding. The time was ripe, the enemy before them. With great ferocity, he twirled his knives faster and faster. Adrenalin surged through him, and he bounced slightly from foot to foot, awaiting the signal. Finally, the moment came. Keirdron came forward, and in a loud voice shouted out the call: "CARRIO*!!" With a great shout, the armies of Mirkwood charged forward. Legolas raced on like one of his own arrows released from the string. In a few more paces, the battle would begin. He was close enough to see the ugly face of the nearest Goblin, who shrieked loudly at him, his jagged sword raised. Then...clash!! The whole force surged into the ranks of the yrch*. Legolas slashed his knives before him, and the first creature fell, screaming. He ducked a blow to the head and came from behind, driving both tips deep into the back of another. Black blood spurted out and covered the Elf’s hands, but that mattered little to him. With one knife he sliced the throat of an opponent, and with the second he swiped the legs out from under another. After the initial onslaught of the Eldar began, a cry was heard from behind, and down charged Dain and Bard, their armies behind them. The combined forces pushed foward. The Goblins were beginning to route the field. A smile crossed Legolas’ face, but then disappeared. A shrill cry rang out from above. A vast majority of the cursed yrch* had scaled the sides of the mountain, and were firing down upon the armies below. Any who tried to climb up after them found an arrow in their chest and met a very unpleasant end by falling back down to the earth. Any thought of victory vanished. They had only stemmed the first tide.
A swirling, swarming mass of Elves, Men, Goblins, and Dwarves suddenly surged around Legolas. It was absolute organized chaos. Suddenly, a body slammed into the Elf’s back. He turned to find a dwarf, brandishing his axe at a Warg nearby. The short, stubby figure had obviously not even noticed that he had run into another. But then, it was hard to tell in all of the confusion. The young-looking Dwarf had a iron cap on his head and his face almost disappeared in the mass of his red, braided beard.
"Come on!" it was the gruff voice of the Dwarf. "Bring your pretty face to my axe!" Then, from somewhere nearby, another deep voice called:
"Gimli! Get your sorry hide over here. You’re axe is needed at the front!" Gimli growled.
"This isn’t the last you’ll hear of me," he called to the Warg. He turned around and once again smacked into Legolas.
"Watch where you're going, pointy ear!" he growled. Then he sauntered off.
Dwarves, Legolas said beneath his breath.
The Goblins reformed their lines and sent their Wargs out before them. They came fast and full of fury, and it was all Legolas could do to keep them at bay with his arrows. Soon, the armies were overrun. The Elf spotted Bard a little ways away. Through the blur of bodies in motion, it was hard to tell what exactly the state of their combined armies were. Legolas spied Gandalf, and although his arm bled, he seemed none the worse for ware. Dain was putting up a fair struggle with a giant of a Warg, but he was too far off for Legolas’ shafts to be of any help.
Keirdron had been killed in the second assault. That left...
Legolas searched this way and that for his father, but could not find him. A sword swung down at him, but he blocked it with crossed knives and sent the foul creature into eternity. He fought his way to a high point at the very feet of the mountain and sought for a better look. The bats swarmed the heights now, and an strange darkness covered the sun, making it even more difficult to see. But with his keen Elven eyes, Legolas spotted at the far end of the field his father, surrounded by the last of the Elf lords, who were bound to protect their king at all costs. But one by one, they were being picked off, and soon the Goblins would reach Thranduil. A new fear shot through the Elf prince. And a new anger and hatred. With a great cry he charged once more into the fray of battle. His onslaught was fierce and terrible. It looked as though the fire in his soul was carried to his knives, for they seemed to be devoured in a white flame. Left and right he cut down his enemies. He would not let his father die. Not while he himself still lived. His attack was stayed as Goblins suddenly crowded the area around him. From every side, every angle, they came at him with all they had; swords, spears, arrows and axes. It was all Legolas could do to dodge, block and parry. He was close now, so close that he could see the fear that marked the Elf lords’ faces. With all his might he tried to fight his way through the swarm of bodies, but every time they filled in with more. At the edge of his hearing, he caught a sound. A voice. It was shouting something, and it was coming from his right. What was it saying? Through the chaos around him he strained to hear the words. Then, very faintly he caught the last of it.
"Elendil!!!" it cried. It was followed by the sound of metal against metal. Legolas knew the voice, but somehow he couldn’t place it. But soon the sound was fitted with a figure, for out of the mass of black shapes a person in a grayish-green cloak surged towards the Elven King and his defenders. His clothes were tattered and dirty, his youthful face marked with stubble, and deep brown eyes could just be seen beneath the hood. Legolas slashed hard at the giant of a Goblin before him. A renewed sense of joy mingled with worry filled his heart. Once more he fought forward, his knives swinging. The cloaked figure caught sight of the approach of the Elf out of the corner of his eye and turned. And at once Legolas was sure of the face.
"Eles—" but the Elf’s cry was cut short. A sudden sharp pain gashed across his chest, and the words caught in his throat. The knives dropped from his hands, and it seemed that everything moved in slow motion. He tried to take in a breath and got a raspy, unstable gasp in return. His vision blurred and his hands went absently to the source of the pain. They came back completely covered in dripping red. Blood. His own blood. Another huge Goblin had come forward while his attention had been turned. Now, Legolas looked into it’s slant-eyed face, then to it’s dripping axe. His legs gave way and he slammed to his knees. His breaths were becoming ragged and were beginning to sound wet. A sudden cough seized him and he spit out the blood that came to his mouth. Through the mass of ever darkening bodies around him, Legolas caught another glimpse of the man he had recognized. He was desperately pushing towards the Elf, slashing his sword left and right.
"Elessar," Legolas whispered. He felt another blow, this one to the side of his head. Warm liquid began to run down his face. A pair of strong arms grabbed the Elf and pulled him back before he would have fallen forward. The last thing Legolas saw was the brooding face of a jeering Goblin. Then everything fell into darkness.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Worship
Ok, I'm taking a break from the story (I can hear you guys cheering through the screen) to talk about a SAGE girls conference I went to this weekend. The leaders were so on fire for God, the topics hit home, and the worship...aah. It was amazing. Imagine yourself in this huge church building, the lights are dimmed. It's around 9 at night, and the sound of about a thousand female voices are raised in songs of praise to the King. I found myself on my knees, tears streaming. I felt HIS presence all around me, and felt HIS power in the pulsing beat if the drums. I felt utterly wicked before HIM, and utterly blessed. I was so happy afterwards; a burden that I didn't know was there was lifted off my shoulders. It was amazing.
Just a thought.
Just a thought.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Third Installment...sorry, it's a long tale.
Several weeks had passed since the dramatic escape of the dwarves. A few of the rafters had returned and reported seeing them in the Lake Town. But the King did not send for a host to retrieve them. For word of their mission had spread to Mirkwood as well.
"If my guess it correct, they will get their due reward in the end," said the King to Legolas. The two were in the King’s private chamber.
"You believe their quest will end in failure?" asked Legolas. "They certainly slipped past our guards unnoticed. Perhaps they can avoid the gaze of the dragon as well."
"I am doubtful," replied the King. "But with the dwarves stirring him up, we can expect trouble from the wyrm. We must be ready."
Thranduil was right. For word soon came that the Lake Town had been ravaged by the evil dragon Smaug, killing several inhabitants, and burning their town to a smouldering pile of rubble in the river bed. But the report also told of how one man by the name of Bard had killed the dragon and thereby saved many more lives.
"The time is now ripe," said the King in a royal council one day. "We will supply aid to the poor souls of Lake Town, but our armies will also be assembled, for much of the treasure in that mountain was taken from myself and my people. And knowing the nature of Dwarves, we will be in for a fight, be it verbal or physical, when it comes to gold and jewels." So without another word, the armies of Mirkwood were assembled and armed, food and supplies were readied, and the finest of the Woodland Realm’s craftsmen were assembled. Legolas, for the first time in many years, strapped on his own personal armor and his best bow and quiver. His two knives, which had been a gift from Elrond, he brought also. He was ready for battle, ready for adventure, ready to move. Something within him had been stirring for many years, and as soon as he took his first step out the great doors of the Hall, it was released. The world beyond was calling to him, and he was prepared for whatever came his way. Be it 13 Dwarves or a thousand dragons, a fire had lit inside him that would not be quenched. Behind him, row upon row of glittering spears shone in the sunlight that made it’s way through the deep branches. Swords and bows were also at the ready. Beside him rode his father, King Thranduil and the gon or commander of the armies of Mirkwood, Keirdron. Before him, loomed the prospect of battle. And the prospect was thrilling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a few days the company of Elves left the shelter of the woods and arrived at the camping place of the refugees of the Lake Town. It was a sad sight. Mothers coddled babes and held their children close. Men searched the surrounding area for wood or food with little success, for all around them the vegetation was burned. Some were ill, others, wounded. Every face spoke of hardship and fear. Even Legolas’ restless heart was stirred with pity towards these unfortunate folk.
As soon as the Silvan people rode in the midst of them, many faces brightened. The packs of supplies were unloaded almost immediately and within a week and a half homes were built and food was restored. The men of the camp worked heartily, the thought of their families driving them forward. For winter was coming soon. The breeze began to speak of it in hushed whispers of cold that was more heard than felt by Legolas. After a suitable living place was well on it’s way to being established once more, the Elven King began making plans with the man behind the killing of the dragon, one called Bard. The Dwarves, in all probability, had met their due end by the fire or claws of Smaug, and a great deal of treasure was now to be had at the top of the mountain. So quickly and eagerly, the men of Lake Town secured their homes, made ready, and together with the Elves of Mirkwood marched forward into the desolate lands before them.
Not two days later, the great host of Elves and Men camped on the other side of the river, and now sat practically on the toes of the Lonely Mountain. Legolas, not much used to the banter of the human race and not understanding some of it, found himself wandering in the dark along the riverbank, away from the lights and the noise. Now that the cursed dragon was not puffing out huge clouds of smoke, the night sky was plainly visible. The stars shone out unusually brightly, now that the trees did not cover the view. Catching sight of one star that shone out the clearest, Legolas’ thoughts turned to Arwen and Elessar. Where was that scraggly Ranger? He could be anywhere in Middle-earth, and only you would see him, O Giliath,* Legolas thought to himself. The Elf’s gaze drifted to the river before him, glassy, reflecting the star’s light. Only the slightest ripple waved in the water. Footsteps sounded in the grass behind him, but he did not turn. He would enjoy the stillness of the scene before him for as long possible. A hand rested on his shoulder. Legolas turned. It was Bard.
"What is it that this Elf sees in the stars above besides their beauty?" he asked. "For your mind is not just upon them, is it?"
"You judge correctly," Legolas replied, "but of what my mind's eye lingers on I wish not to speak."
"Very well," said the man. "Then will you not come and join us around the fire?" Legolas slowly nodded his consent. The man smiled broadly. "Come." Legolas followed, grumbling a little to himself in his own tongue. Why is it that men always feel they need to be in the company of others? I find joy in solitude and quiet, not the carousing and noise of a group. Nevertheless, he went with Bard to the fireside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day dawned early. A company of Elvish bowmen and a few men of the Lake Town were dispatched to find an entrance into the mountain and find out what they could. Late that afternoon they returned. Their report was not what anyone had expected. They had found a way into the mountain by some falls at one side, but a wall had been constructed to hinder their passage. As the group had whispered amongst themselves of what to do, a voice had sounded from behind the barrier. It had yelled out: "Who are you, that come as if in war to the gates of Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, and what do you desire?" Startled and very surprised, the company had returned without a word, awaiting orders.
After a little conference of sorts, the armies were moved to the east side of the river, and that night was filled with the songs and mirth of the Elves. Legolas reveled in some of the tales that were sung, and as they told of the valor of the Eldar and their exploits in the wars over the years, a pride swelled within him. Battle seemed ever nearer, and he was ready for it.
In the morning, Legolas, along with his father, Bard, and a company of spearmen set out up the mountain. It felt good to have his bow and knives with him, but he despised the cumbersome shield he had to carry with the emblem of Mirkwood emblazoned upon it. As soon as a battle started, he would loose it for sure, for it hindered his ability to grab a quick shaft. When they reached the falls, it was just as the earlier group had said. A roughly hewn wall was laid up to the very ceiling of the mouth of the opening. And the same words were uttered from behind the barrier. Bard strode forward. "Hail, Thorin!" he said, "Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hold? We are not yet foes, and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living here; yet now that we are met there is a matter for a parley and a council." A moment later, the voice, presumably of Thorin, sounded again.
"Who are you and of what would you parley?"
Bard then went on to tell of his slaying the dragon and of the gold and treasure that was stolen from his ancestors and now sat in the mountain. Also, he told of the burning of the Lake Town, and wished that their share be returned to him to help rebuild. After a long silence, the muffled voice of Thorin spoke.
"You put your worst cause last and in the chief place. To the treasure of my people no man has a claim, because Smaug who stole it from us also robbed him of life or home. The treasure was not his that his evil deeds should be amended with a share of it. The price of the goods and the assistance that we received of the Lake-Men we will fairly pay–in due time. But nothing will we give, not even a loaf’s worth, under threat of force. While an armed force lies before our doors, we look on you as foes and thieves. It is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have paid to our kindred, had you found the horde unguarded and us slain."
"A just question," replied Bard. "But you are not dead, and we are not robbers. Moreover the wealthy may have pity beyond right on the needy that befriended them when they were in want. And still my other claims remain unanswered."
The parley went on for some time, with many a gruff comment towards the Elves and Men from behind the wall, but in the end, the Dwarf would not give in. So, with the threat of return, the company left. Several hours later, Legolas found himself back at the opening in the cave mouth. A trumpeter blast and the Elven Prince stepped forward.
"In the name of Esgaroth and the Forest, we speak unto Thorin, Thrain’s son Oakenshield, calling himself the King under the Mountain, and we bid him consider well the claims that have been urged, or be declared our foe. At the least, he shall deliver one twelfth portion of the treasure unto Bard, as a dragon-slayer, and as the heir of Girion. From that portion Bard will himself contribute to the aid of Esgaroth; but if Thorin would have the friendship and honor of the lands about, as his sires had of old, then he will give also somewhat of his own for the comfort of the men of the Lake." Legolas had only just finished saying this when out from an unseen hole shot an arrow. It smote with a clang into his shield. Wrath flared up within the Elf. Those cursed stiff-necked Dwarves care for not but their own purse! he thought angrily. He threw down the shield and reached for his own bow, but before he could get to it, a hand clasped firmly around his wrist, and he found his arm thrust down to his side.
"Stay your anger," his father said in the fair Elven speech."The time for it will soon come, but it has not yet." Biting his tongue, Legolas nodded. Then, regaining his composure, continued.
"Since such is your answer, I declare the Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!" It was an embittered company that descended the mountain that afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night Thranduil, Bard, and Legolas sat by one fire in the King’s tent, contemplating what to do about the stubborn Dwarves in the mountain. It was a rather chilly night, so most of the camp’s inhabitants sat quietly around their own warm embers.
"At least now we have Mithrandir," said Legolas, mostly to himself. The wizard had appeared earlier that day and was met with great enthusiasm. Presently, the sound of approaching persons was heard, and suddenly before them stood two Elven scouts, guiding a very cold looking and very wet...Hobbit.
"Good heavens!" cried Bard with a start.
"We found him crossing the river from the mountain side, my lord," said the first scout.
"I’m not sure what harm he could do though," replied the second.
"Tell me," Thranduil asked the small shivering creature before him. "What is a Halfling from the Shire doing this far from home? I have never known your people to be found of traveling, and by the look of you you have done a great deal of it."
"Th-th-that is a l-long t-tale, sir," said the Hobbit through chattering teeth. Seeing the poor thing’s plight, Thranduil excused the scouts, and invited the Halfling to draw near to the fire and get warm. After a while, he explained some of the basic elements of his adventure with the Dwarves, and that he was to be granted a fourteenth share of the treasure. He said what they all guessed about that the stubborn son-of-a-goat up in the mountain, that would sit on his gold and starve, rather than give any of it away, for such is the nature of Dwarves. But the wet little creature before them then offered an alternative. Suddenly he drew forth something that none of the three around him ever expected to see...the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. A diamond sphere that shone as if it held moonlight within it, and without a word, he handed it to Bard. After a great deal of explaining and prompting, Bard accepted the gift, and because the Hobbit, who was called Bilbo, wished to return to his friends, the King sent after him, with many a blessing, an escort to be sure he made it back to the river. After he had gone, the three still stood in wondering amazement.
"For one so small, he had a lot of pluck to do such a thing," said Bard.
"Indeed he did," replied Thranduil. "A Halfling just stayed a war when we ‘big folk’ as they call us, could not."
"Remarkable," Bard replied. Legolas nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once again a new day arrived, and the Elven prince found himself once more ascending the Mountain with a company of twenty others, including Bard and Thranduil. Mithrandir also joined them, carrying the Arkenstone in a chest before them. Just as they reached the opening the group laid down spear, bow, and sword, and then approached. Bard called out to the inhabitants. There was a speedy reply.
"My mind does not change with the rising and setting of a few suns," called Thorin. "Did you come to ask me idle questions? Still the Elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with me."
"Is there nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?" asked Bard.
"Nothing that you or your friends have to offer," replied the Dwarf hotly.
"What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?" asked Bard. There was a long stunned silence within the cave. Then the wrath of Thorin raged.
"That stone was my father’s and is mine! Why should I purchase my own? But how came you by the heirloom of my house—if there be need to ask such a question from thieves."
"We are not thieves," Bard answered. "Your own we will give back in return for our own."
"How came you by it?!" shouted the Dwarf. He appeared at the top of the wall. His face was bright red.
"I gave it to them!" a voice squeaked from the other side of the wall. All turned and saw it was Bilbo. Thorin looked up suddenly and grabbed the poor Hobbit, yelling so much so fast that it was hard to comprehend what he was saying, even for the Men. The Dwarf shook the Hobbit like a rabbit and was about to toss him over the wall shouting, "I wish Gandalf were here! Curse him for his choice of you!"
"Stay! Your wish is granted!" shouted Mithrandir, coming forward. Many hot words were exchanged, but in the end, the Hobbit was released. Thorin, in a rage, excused Bilbo from the Mountain and from his share, and sent him down to join the party below. After a bitter argument, it was decided that the gold and silver would be repaid, but until that time, the Arkenstone would stay with Bard. Bilbo climbed down and began to leave with the rest of the party. As he left, the small creature cried out to those behind him,
"Farewell! We may meet again as friends."
After a few choice words from Thorin and the announcement that the Dwarves had until the following day to give up their share, the party went down again into the valley.
"If my guess it correct, they will get their due reward in the end," said the King to Legolas. The two were in the King’s private chamber.
"You believe their quest will end in failure?" asked Legolas. "They certainly slipped past our guards unnoticed. Perhaps they can avoid the gaze of the dragon as well."
"I am doubtful," replied the King. "But with the dwarves stirring him up, we can expect trouble from the wyrm. We must be ready."
Thranduil was right. For word soon came that the Lake Town had been ravaged by the evil dragon Smaug, killing several inhabitants, and burning their town to a smouldering pile of rubble in the river bed. But the report also told of how one man by the name of Bard had killed the dragon and thereby saved many more lives.
"The time is now ripe," said the King in a royal council one day. "We will supply aid to the poor souls of Lake Town, but our armies will also be assembled, for much of the treasure in that mountain was taken from myself and my people. And knowing the nature of Dwarves, we will be in for a fight, be it verbal or physical, when it comes to gold and jewels." So without another word, the armies of Mirkwood were assembled and armed, food and supplies were readied, and the finest of the Woodland Realm’s craftsmen were assembled. Legolas, for the first time in many years, strapped on his own personal armor and his best bow and quiver. His two knives, which had been a gift from Elrond, he brought also. He was ready for battle, ready for adventure, ready to move. Something within him had been stirring for many years, and as soon as he took his first step out the great doors of the Hall, it was released. The world beyond was calling to him, and he was prepared for whatever came his way. Be it 13 Dwarves or a thousand dragons, a fire had lit inside him that would not be quenched. Behind him, row upon row of glittering spears shone in the sunlight that made it’s way through the deep branches. Swords and bows were also at the ready. Beside him rode his father, King Thranduil and the gon or commander of the armies of Mirkwood, Keirdron. Before him, loomed the prospect of battle. And the prospect was thrilling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a few days the company of Elves left the shelter of the woods and arrived at the camping place of the refugees of the Lake Town. It was a sad sight. Mothers coddled babes and held their children close. Men searched the surrounding area for wood or food with little success, for all around them the vegetation was burned. Some were ill, others, wounded. Every face spoke of hardship and fear. Even Legolas’ restless heart was stirred with pity towards these unfortunate folk.
As soon as the Silvan people rode in the midst of them, many faces brightened. The packs of supplies were unloaded almost immediately and within a week and a half homes were built and food was restored. The men of the camp worked heartily, the thought of their families driving them forward. For winter was coming soon. The breeze began to speak of it in hushed whispers of cold that was more heard than felt by Legolas. After a suitable living place was well on it’s way to being established once more, the Elven King began making plans with the man behind the killing of the dragon, one called Bard. The Dwarves, in all probability, had met their due end by the fire or claws of Smaug, and a great deal of treasure was now to be had at the top of the mountain. So quickly and eagerly, the men of Lake Town secured their homes, made ready, and together with the Elves of Mirkwood marched forward into the desolate lands before them.
Not two days later, the great host of Elves and Men camped on the other side of the river, and now sat practically on the toes of the Lonely Mountain. Legolas, not much used to the banter of the human race and not understanding some of it, found himself wandering in the dark along the riverbank, away from the lights and the noise. Now that the cursed dragon was not puffing out huge clouds of smoke, the night sky was plainly visible. The stars shone out unusually brightly, now that the trees did not cover the view. Catching sight of one star that shone out the clearest, Legolas’ thoughts turned to Arwen and Elessar. Where was that scraggly Ranger? He could be anywhere in Middle-earth, and only you would see him, O Giliath,* Legolas thought to himself. The Elf’s gaze drifted to the river before him, glassy, reflecting the star’s light. Only the slightest ripple waved in the water. Footsteps sounded in the grass behind him, but he did not turn. He would enjoy the stillness of the scene before him for as long possible. A hand rested on his shoulder. Legolas turned. It was Bard.
"What is it that this Elf sees in the stars above besides their beauty?" he asked. "For your mind is not just upon them, is it?"
"You judge correctly," Legolas replied, "but of what my mind's eye lingers on I wish not to speak."
"Very well," said the man. "Then will you not come and join us around the fire?" Legolas slowly nodded his consent. The man smiled broadly. "Come." Legolas followed, grumbling a little to himself in his own tongue. Why is it that men always feel they need to be in the company of others? I find joy in solitude and quiet, not the carousing and noise of a group. Nevertheless, he went with Bard to the fireside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day dawned early. A company of Elvish bowmen and a few men of the Lake Town were dispatched to find an entrance into the mountain and find out what they could. Late that afternoon they returned. Their report was not what anyone had expected. They had found a way into the mountain by some falls at one side, but a wall had been constructed to hinder their passage. As the group had whispered amongst themselves of what to do, a voice had sounded from behind the barrier. It had yelled out: "Who are you, that come as if in war to the gates of Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, and what do you desire?" Startled and very surprised, the company had returned without a word, awaiting orders.
After a little conference of sorts, the armies were moved to the east side of the river, and that night was filled with the songs and mirth of the Elves. Legolas reveled in some of the tales that were sung, and as they told of the valor of the Eldar and their exploits in the wars over the years, a pride swelled within him. Battle seemed ever nearer, and he was ready for it.
In the morning, Legolas, along with his father, Bard, and a company of spearmen set out up the mountain. It felt good to have his bow and knives with him, but he despised the cumbersome shield he had to carry with the emblem of Mirkwood emblazoned upon it. As soon as a battle started, he would loose it for sure, for it hindered his ability to grab a quick shaft. When they reached the falls, it was just as the earlier group had said. A roughly hewn wall was laid up to the very ceiling of the mouth of the opening. And the same words were uttered from behind the barrier. Bard strode forward. "Hail, Thorin!" he said, "Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hold? We are not yet foes, and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living here; yet now that we are met there is a matter for a parley and a council." A moment later, the voice, presumably of Thorin, sounded again.
"Who are you and of what would you parley?"
Bard then went on to tell of his slaying the dragon and of the gold and treasure that was stolen from his ancestors and now sat in the mountain. Also, he told of the burning of the Lake Town, and wished that their share be returned to him to help rebuild. After a long silence, the muffled voice of Thorin spoke.
"You put your worst cause last and in the chief place. To the treasure of my people no man has a claim, because Smaug who stole it from us also robbed him of life or home. The treasure was not his that his evil deeds should be amended with a share of it. The price of the goods and the assistance that we received of the Lake-Men we will fairly pay–in due time. But nothing will we give, not even a loaf’s worth, under threat of force. While an armed force lies before our doors, we look on you as foes and thieves. It is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have paid to our kindred, had you found the horde unguarded and us slain."
"A just question," replied Bard. "But you are not dead, and we are not robbers. Moreover the wealthy may have pity beyond right on the needy that befriended them when they were in want. And still my other claims remain unanswered."
The parley went on for some time, with many a gruff comment towards the Elves and Men from behind the wall, but in the end, the Dwarf would not give in. So, with the threat of return, the company left. Several hours later, Legolas found himself back at the opening in the cave mouth. A trumpeter blast and the Elven Prince stepped forward.
"In the name of Esgaroth and the Forest, we speak unto Thorin, Thrain’s son Oakenshield, calling himself the King under the Mountain, and we bid him consider well the claims that have been urged, or be declared our foe. At the least, he shall deliver one twelfth portion of the treasure unto Bard, as a dragon-slayer, and as the heir of Girion. From that portion Bard will himself contribute to the aid of Esgaroth; but if Thorin would have the friendship and honor of the lands about, as his sires had of old, then he will give also somewhat of his own for the comfort of the men of the Lake." Legolas had only just finished saying this when out from an unseen hole shot an arrow. It smote with a clang into his shield. Wrath flared up within the Elf. Those cursed stiff-necked Dwarves care for not but their own purse! he thought angrily. He threw down the shield and reached for his own bow, but before he could get to it, a hand clasped firmly around his wrist, and he found his arm thrust down to his side.
"Stay your anger," his father said in the fair Elven speech."The time for it will soon come, but it has not yet." Biting his tongue, Legolas nodded. Then, regaining his composure, continued.
"Since such is your answer, I declare the Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!" It was an embittered company that descended the mountain that afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night Thranduil, Bard, and Legolas sat by one fire in the King’s tent, contemplating what to do about the stubborn Dwarves in the mountain. It was a rather chilly night, so most of the camp’s inhabitants sat quietly around their own warm embers.
"At least now we have Mithrandir," said Legolas, mostly to himself. The wizard had appeared earlier that day and was met with great enthusiasm. Presently, the sound of approaching persons was heard, and suddenly before them stood two Elven scouts, guiding a very cold looking and very wet...Hobbit.
"Good heavens!" cried Bard with a start.
"We found him crossing the river from the mountain side, my lord," said the first scout.
"I’m not sure what harm he could do though," replied the second.
"Tell me," Thranduil asked the small shivering creature before him. "What is a Halfling from the Shire doing this far from home? I have never known your people to be found of traveling, and by the look of you you have done a great deal of it."
"Th-th-that is a l-long t-tale, sir," said the Hobbit through chattering teeth. Seeing the poor thing’s plight, Thranduil excused the scouts, and invited the Halfling to draw near to the fire and get warm. After a while, he explained some of the basic elements of his adventure with the Dwarves, and that he was to be granted a fourteenth share of the treasure. He said what they all guessed about that the stubborn son-of-a-goat up in the mountain, that would sit on his gold and starve, rather than give any of it away, for such is the nature of Dwarves. But the wet little creature before them then offered an alternative. Suddenly he drew forth something that none of the three around him ever expected to see...the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. A diamond sphere that shone as if it held moonlight within it, and without a word, he handed it to Bard. After a great deal of explaining and prompting, Bard accepted the gift, and because the Hobbit, who was called Bilbo, wished to return to his friends, the King sent after him, with many a blessing, an escort to be sure he made it back to the river. After he had gone, the three still stood in wondering amazement.
"For one so small, he had a lot of pluck to do such a thing," said Bard.
"Indeed he did," replied Thranduil. "A Halfling just stayed a war when we ‘big folk’ as they call us, could not."
"Remarkable," Bard replied. Legolas nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once again a new day arrived, and the Elven prince found himself once more ascending the Mountain with a company of twenty others, including Bard and Thranduil. Mithrandir also joined them, carrying the Arkenstone in a chest before them. Just as they reached the opening the group laid down spear, bow, and sword, and then approached. Bard called out to the inhabitants. There was a speedy reply.
"My mind does not change with the rising and setting of a few suns," called Thorin. "Did you come to ask me idle questions? Still the Elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with me."
"Is there nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?" asked Bard.
"Nothing that you or your friends have to offer," replied the Dwarf hotly.
"What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?" asked Bard. There was a long stunned silence within the cave. Then the wrath of Thorin raged.
"That stone was my father’s and is mine! Why should I purchase my own? But how came you by the heirloom of my house—if there be need to ask such a question from thieves."
"We are not thieves," Bard answered. "Your own we will give back in return for our own."
"How came you by it?!" shouted the Dwarf. He appeared at the top of the wall. His face was bright red.
"I gave it to them!" a voice squeaked from the other side of the wall. All turned and saw it was Bilbo. Thorin looked up suddenly and grabbed the poor Hobbit, yelling so much so fast that it was hard to comprehend what he was saying, even for the Men. The Dwarf shook the Hobbit like a rabbit and was about to toss him over the wall shouting, "I wish Gandalf were here! Curse him for his choice of you!"
"Stay! Your wish is granted!" shouted Mithrandir, coming forward. Many hot words were exchanged, but in the end, the Hobbit was released. Thorin, in a rage, excused Bilbo from the Mountain and from his share, and sent him down to join the party below. After a bitter argument, it was decided that the gold and silver would be repaid, but until that time, the Arkenstone would stay with Bard. Bilbo climbed down and began to leave with the rest of the party. As he left, the small creature cried out to those behind him,
"Farewell! We may meet again as friends."
After a few choice words from Thorin and the announcement that the Dwarves had until the following day to give up their share, the party went down again into the valley.
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