“I meant exactly what I said…. he took off with your gold. I never liked that man…..”
"And not a single soul who stopped him, though we have several witnesses. I can hardly believe it. Has Dale been cursed before it even a chance to reborn?"
Word travelled fast, especially amongst the firstborn who were quick on their feet. The rim of the forest was full of hidden eyes, whenever they were not chasing their foes around the trees and the spacious meadows. The Elvenking would never allow the enemy to spread, the Elves fought back and were watchful, ever so keen to dispatch as fast as possible. The darkness tried to push them away, yet the Elves, creatures of light refused vigorously.
The humans of Esgaroth were of course neither enemy nor unknown to them, the woodlandrealm traded with them for fish, apples and butter, for safety as well. The Elves are said to aid the humans, Thranduil knowing that one day it shall pay off. Captain Bard’s visit was met with only mild surprise and his pleading welcomed with keen, pointy ears though Thranduil looked thoughtful as his icy hues pierced the human, seemingly gazing into his soul. The captain, in no way dressed shabby like others of the fisher-folk looked slightly travel worn. Of course, Mirkwood was relentlessly tainted, unwelcoming of intruders even if this one had the King’s blessing and was accompanied by high ranking elven soldiers.
“Is this what you fear?” the King then inquires, leaned back on his throne with one long leg draped over the other and the fair head canted in question and the fine mouth in not quite a stright line, a faint curl indicating the beginning of a smile. “That I am not tending to your matter?”
“We are displeased by the current events, as much as you are with the only difference that our defences are better. Orcs roaming close to our lands cannot be tolerated, especially if your people are endangered.” No, that would not do and Thranduil’s face contorted into an expression of great distaste. “Tell me captain, explain me the situation in your town in detail. Usually, I would request a review and statement from the master, yet it seems he could not find the door of his estate.”
Lips pressed into a thin line, the Elvenking made no secret out of his dislike for the man who seemed to worm his way out of political matters whenever it turned uncomfortable.
For the elves and humans to be harmonious was nothing peculiar. They were all of Eru, and only when they clashed did it really showcase their differences. This was not one of those scenarios, where Bard stood tall in the land of the Elves, where he did feel— safe.
There was no reason to doubt, Bard would hope not. Whatever the Master had reasons not to venture out on his own, he hardly had the backbone for anyway. The captain’s hands left his side and they crossed as he listened to what the Elvenking has to say. To miss a minute detail would not be wise.
Not one to be flustered, the bowman cannot deny that he is amused. Amused that the king upon his throne seems a pinch more jovial than the ordinary. Doth corners tipping upwards count for such a thought? The corner of his eyes crinkle a bit in reply. “But are you, not tending to our matter? Only when you speak aloud of it will I worry, for I shan’t worry about what isn’t truth, but fear of mystery itself.”
“Certainly, the borders of Long Lake do not compare anymore than an egg without it’s shell, my Lord. We are vulnerable, that is clear.” To be reaffirmed that the alliance between Mirkwood and Esgaroth remained in place, (Had he any doubt to begin with? do not question him now,) Bard breathed easier, relief coursing through his being despite his conviction within his own mind that yes, he hadn’t anything to fear. This was a worthy alliance, one of a lengthy duration.
“Surely you do not jest, and it is with that truth that red marrs my face. They run freely, periodically. Our people are in fear, and whilst my men do what we can, to fend off the irregular and unpredictable orcs that appear when they wish… Our people are in fear, as is our Master, which is why it is I that graces your presence, instead of he.”
He knew not whence they came from, those blundering yet threatening creatures. Orc’s. The fact that the numbers were rather alarming, and that they’d managed to show themselves, their pale hide against the light of day, that was a whole other story. Concern brewed within his stomach, but he had no right to make a move alone. Bain kept a watchful eye from the window of their home. Safety was no longer, but that did not hinder the townspeople from hiding behind the barrier of wooden walls. That in itself was more salvage than bare skin against bone.
The last that anyone had heard. Seen of this. Was all mythical, hearsay. The Battle of Dagorlad. Remember the Last Alliance? Remember what they hath accomplished— endless bodies along the Emyn Muil. Bard’s breath escaped him like a hiss, as the captain packed away necessary for his venture across the waters through the Woodland Realm. Here he would hopefully find friend, not foe. For surely, the orc’s came not the haven of the Elvenking’s land.
But that was his optimism. Truth be told, Mirkwood was a fitting name for the woods now, and most Men did not dare to venture past. Men that included the Master of Lake-town. Always were the people that had to do the trades in courtesy of their Master. Trades, negotiations, peacekeeping alike. It was no surprise when Bard got called upon to seek out a new request, arrangement from the likes of the Lord of Mirkwood.
So on his merry way he went, towards the woods where surely, in no time at all, the Man caught the eye of an elf or two and he was taken, cautiously, into the heart of Mirkwood. It was entirely true, the leaves seemed to be molten with a dark ember of life; not dead, but not well. He said nothing in his journey past the gates, and it was a breath of fresh air once he felt safer within. “Lord Thranduil, I have come from Long Lake, and it is my Master that has appointed me in his stead to relay a message.
"Though I would think that turning a blind eye upon what is happening would be difficult, no matter the time or place,” Bard finished slowly, his eyes meeting that of the Elvenking’s.
