Last of the Line of Durin

Chapter Seven

The Adventure Begins

Disclaimer: As ever, I don't own anything about Middle Earth. Dis gets a moment to be queen to her people, and charges into battle, and Legolas makes it quite clear that he doesn't like Aragorn.

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The lands directly to the south of Erebor were as barren and bleak as Estel was expecting. Nothing grows around the lair of a dragon, his father had always told him, and Estel could now see for himself the validity of these words. But he could see little signs of life, even with the hold that winter now had. There were a number of birds, tiny pine trees peak up through the thin layer of snow on the ground, and occasionally moles and prairie-dogs would peak up from their abodes under the earth.

The four companions were strung out in a line across the hilly, sloping terrain, keeping the Mountain directly behind them. A brisk, cold wind blew down from the north, chapping Estel's lips and making his nose run. The haughty elf-prince, Legolas, looked to be entirely unbothered by the cold, his dull-colored tunic – adorned with silver clasps though it was – all that kept him warm. He hadn't even brought a cloak.

Estel himself was heavily burned by his sword, a heavy shield his father had made him take, a thick, fur cloak, warm boots, gloves, a scarf, and a heavy backpack which had all manner of things it in from cooking gear, to ropes, to extra clothing. Trudging through the snow, it felt like carrying a boulder on his back.

Directly in front of him was the strange woman, Eliriel. Estel had only had limited dealings with men before. He'd spent several years with the Dunedain, but more often than not he was paired with only one or two at a time. And the Dunedain were an uncommunicative race at the best of times. Tall, grim-faced and keen-eyed, the Dunedain rangers prowled the wilderness, always on the hunt for evil. They seemed a cursed and forsaken race, and Estel had not grown close to them, always returning to his father's house in the Hidden Valley.

The men and women he had encountered in Bree and the other northern villages were loud, dirty, smelly and uncultured. He had passed through quickly, buying supplies when needed, and had not lingered to make the acquaintance of any of them. They seemed a lower race, with none of the strength of the Dunedain – his own people he reluctantly acknowledged – or the endurance and valor of elves and dwarves.

The men of Dale had seemed much like the men of Bree, only slightly more advanced. He had thought Lady Sigrid very fair for her race, but she did not hold a candle to the beauty of the Lady Arwen – Evenstar of the Elves.

The woman in front of him, short, plain-faced and mostly silent, seemed to him just another mortal. He did not know why she had come on this journey, although he reluctantly admitted she possessed some skill with a blade. She seemed short, with a paler that seemed to denote sickness and weakness.

In all the stories Estel had ever read or heard in the House of Elrond, there was the weakness of men in them. He did not believe that this Eliriel would prove any different, especially since she did not have even the blessing of the Valar that the Dunedain did. She would only be a burden.

In front of the woman, at the head of their little band, was the dwarf-queen, Dis, daughter of Thrain. This female interested Estel. Her long, silver-shot dark hair was braided and bound up in rings with her crest upon them. She carried a sword and an axe on her back, and a coat edged in fur. Her tunic was of thick leather, which would serve as limited armor in a fight but prove to be much less heavy during their journey, and her dark gaze continuously scanned the horizon for threats. Occasionally she would turn around and shot something back to Eliriel in dwarvish, but for the first couple of days there was almost no communication between the man, the woman, the dwarf and the elf.

When they stopped in the evenings it was always Eliriel who did the cooking. Legolas would often come back with small game and the stews the brown-haired woman made were surprisingly tasty. Without comment she would always make two, one smaller than the other and containing no meat for Estel, who – in keeping with the traditions of the High and Sindarin Elves – avoided the killing of animals. Silvan elves had no qualms about hunting game and Legolas and his father – for all their Sindarin blood – were Silvan at heart.

Dis always took the first watch and Ellie always took the last. They let Estel sleep and Legolas took the middle of the night. He needed less sleep than the rest of them, and always liked looking at the stars. Or so Estel suspected.

It was on the fifth night out that Estel realized Eliriel had trouble sleeping. He himself usually nodded off right away and didn't wake until the bright rays of the sun touched his face the next day, but this night he'd had to pee. He'd opened his eyes and contemplated leaving the warmth of his bedroll when he spotted the elf-prince's bright silver hair in the moonlight. Legolas was standing motionless at the edge of their camp, his back to them, as he surveyed the landscape. Without turning he spoke, and Estel almost had a heart attack until he realized that the prince spoke to Eliriel and not him.

"You do not sleep as much as your mortal body needs."

Eliriel was several feet away from Estel, lying on her side and faced away from the young man. She spoke without moving. "Is that your way of asking why I can't sleep?" Her tone was antagonistic.

"It's my way of asking what you dream of that allows you no rest."

Legolas still didn't turn around. Nor did he say anything else. After a minute, where the only sound was the moaning of the winter wind and Estel's own quiet breaths, Eliriel stood up and moved to stand next to the elf-prince. Her arms were folded protectively over her chest and her long, unbound hair whipped in the breeze.

Estel still had to pee, but he held his breath and listened as hard as he could; this was becoming interesting.

"I dream of fire," Eliriel said at last, sullenly, obviously annoyed at herself for speaking at all.

Estel watched Legolas shoot her a quick look of surprise, an involuntary reaction. Then the elf spoke louder. "If you have business to attend to Aragorn, I suggest you do so."

Estel blanched and hurriedly got up, peeling blankets off himself. "I wasn't eavesdropping," he muttered, despite all evidence to the contrary. He noticed that Ellie had gone stiff and was keeping her back to him. Quickly he took off for a secluded spot and the wind whisked any further words of theirs away.

Legolas and Ellie waited until Aragorn had vanished behind a nearby hill. Then the woman turned to the elf-prince.

"Well that was awkward."

"He doesn't like you," the elf-prince observed.

"And you don't like him," Ellie countered instantly.

"He's young; untried and untested."

"Yes, but you think that about almost all mortals, am I right? You don't want to get close to Aragorn, specifically, so you're pushing him away. Why?" she probed. She looked at Legolas intently as though she could divine the answer just from his visage.

"I am not pushing him away, I just don't want to get to know him. Humans are…..incredibly brief."

Ellie turned away again and looked out over the moonlit, snow-covered hills. "You have no problem getting to know me," she murmured. "And I am much briefer than he." She hesitated, and then obviously decided to go with her previous thought. "Estel…does remind me of a very young Thorin. At times." When Legolas didn't say anything, but she could almost feel his sudden anger, she knew she was on the right track. "Far less sorrow and suffering, but that same spirit – noble and stalwart. You can see it, even as young as he is. Yes?" It wasn't really a question. She continued. "Dark hair, blue eyes, royal bearing; a king exiled from his throne, wandering the wilderness and doing menial tasks. Did you know that I heard from some of the Elves in Elrond's house that the men in the villages to the west call Aragorn, 'Strider' and mock his long legs and unkempt appearance? They called Thorin…..well, I suppose it doesn't really matter what they called Thorin anymore." She clasped her hands together and finished. "The point is, if the Dark Lord knew of his existence he would hunt Estel down like he did Thorin. And you feel like you failed Thorin, and as though you would have liked him had he lived to become King Under the Mountain. So you lost not just your father and your kin and the person you saw as a little sister, but someone who could have been a friend, as well. You don't want to experience the same thing with Aragorn."

Legolas gritted his teeth and concentrated on breathing. It was never pleasant to have your own, private, half-formed thoughts and fears brought out in the open and forcing you to confront them. "You're far too observant for your own good." It was not a compliment.

Ellie shrugged. She was used to people not liking her.

"You did all you could," she told him forthrightly. "For all of them. That is all that any of us can do in this world; we do our best and hope our best is enough. You have nothing to atone for, Legolas Greenleaf, although I, in my grief and anger, may have implied differently. For which I apologize."

Legolas stared at the woman for a while. "You are much more even-tempered than…he was."

Her smile was bittersweet in its reminiscence. "Sometimes," she admitted, "although I could be more stubborn than even he. Thorin always had a fire in him, burning and smoldering. I've always been more earth than fire. Although I tend to say what's on my mind more than either Thorin or Dis ever would. I am no royal."

"And Dis?"

"Dis is water; able to bend and flow and take new shape right under your gaze. You think she's finished and then she comes right back and bites you in the ass." Her chuckle was filled with warm glee. "Dain's going to regret ever attempting to become king under the mountain. Even though she's not there, he's not going to be able to do it."

Legolas couldn't help the reluctant grin that tugged at his own lips. "Thorin Oakenshield's sister indeed."

"The whole family's full of nutjobs," Ellie agreed. Her smile faded.

The elven-prince looked at her with keen insight in his turn. "You tell me not to punish myself for what happened, and yet you do the same. You think that if you had been here one of them, at least, might have lived. You tell yourself that a death of fire was not enough, that you should have done more. You are being ridiculous."

There was a snort at this assessment.

"It is much easier to offer forgiveness to others than to accept it for myself," Ellie admitted. "I have never learned to forgive myself for failing. And this feels like I failed."

Legolas nodded and didn't say anymore. He understood what she felt all too well.

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It was Dis who noticed that something was off around mid-morning the next day. She spotted the raven circling high above them and said several words with Eliriel. As Estel watched the woman exchanged a glance with the elf-prince and then the two of them melted away from him and the dwarf-queen, one to their right and one to their left. Estel moved up to Dis' side. She had stopped and rested her ax on the ground, leaning on it as her keen eyes scanned the horizon.

"Is something wrong?" Estel asked her, keeping his voice low.

"We'll find out in a minute," was the curt reply.

Estel shifted his weight from foot to foot for a while, but Dis' exasperated glance forced him to stand still.

After a few moments Eliriel appeared from behind a hill almost a league in front of them. She gave a brief wave and then disappeared again. Dis sighed in relief and continued walking in her sister-in-law's direction. Estel kept pace with her.

"They're most likely friendly," Dis explained as they crunched along. The day was surprisingly fine for a mid-winter one; the sun was warm and bright, and although there was snow, Estel could see it melting slowly under the unexpected heat. "You're fully grown in the years of men, are you not?" She asked him, after several paces, sounding genuinely curious.

"Yes. For almost ten years now," Estel answered.

"And yet, you act like someone much younger." There was no censure in her tone, as Estel was sure there would have been in both Legolas' and Eliriel's. Still, he couldn't help the redness that crept into his cheeks.

"Yes," he admitted, and then, showing unexpected insight, added," I think it has something to do with being raised by Elves. They refuse to admit that anyone under 300 is an adult, and my father has always been overprotective."

Dis thought about the logic of this for a bit. "It must be hard for an Elf to have a human child and to know that no matter what, the life of that child will inevitably pass by much too fast, and that the child's destiny is forever sundered from the parent's."

Estel frowned a bit. "Yes," he agreed.

"They must seem strange to you. Elves. Even though you have been raised among them. And still you love them."

"Yes. I have often wished I was one."

Dis smiled sadly. "Sometimes I think my son did as well."

Estel shot her a quick, surprised look. "The one who loved the elf-maid?" he asked, and Dis did not fail to notice the sudden excitement in his voice.

"And the one who was loved by the elf-warrior in return." Dis was watching the young human closely.
"I can't say that I understand the attraction myself, but I would have loved to meet her. She must have been extraordinary."

Estel's smile was besotted. "I am sure that she was," he agreed.

Dis fixed the boy-man with a stern look. "Is there something you would like to tell me, Aragorn?"

Estel only blushed.

But Dis would have known that starry-eyed look anywhere, and threw up her hands as she had done numerous times before at the antics of her sons. "What is it with men and dwarves and elf-maids!" she demanded of the world in general.

"Creamy skin and high-cheekbones," Estel replied instantly, and Dis growled. That was something Kili would have said. She felt the sharp pain in her chest for an instant and then ruthlessly suppressed it.

"And who is the lucky lady?" she asked instead. They had rounded the hill to find Legolas and Eliriel waiting for them at the curve of the next hill. Dis could also here a low rumbling, as of many, deep-throated voices. Ellie was watching her with a strange gleam in her greenish eyes.

"The Lady Arwen," Estel whispered in her ear. "The most beautiful of all women."

Dis shot him a surprised glance. Wasn't she Lord Elrond's daughter? Estel's foster-sister? She would have interrogated the boy further about this sudden, slightly-disturbing revelation, but they had reached their companions and Eliriel interrupted.

"My Lady Dis," she said formerly, waving a hand for Dis to precede her around the hill, "your people await you."

Estel watched the sudden widening of the dwarf-queen's eyes, but she stood a little taller, smoothed her features, and then strode out before the others, who hurried to follow in her wake. Around the hill, snow-covered and easily fifty feet tall, was a long column of dwarves. Dwarf-men, women and children, all dressed in heavy winter clothing, mostly shabby, and carrying heavy packs, they were paused before the hill, obviously informed of Dis' presence by Ellie and Legolas, for when they saw her the mutterings trailed off and they stood there in silence staring at her.

Sunlight gleamed off the silver in Dis' dark hair. Her stern, proud face was beautiful and commanding. She strode to the front of the crowd and surveyed them in return, a small, welcoming smile on her lips. "I am Dis, sister of Thorin Oakenshield, daughter of Greer and Thrain, who was son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. I am the Last of the Line of Durin."

Her voice boomed out over the quiet of the winter morning and the waiting dwarves. Estel and Legolas stood to the left of Dis, and Ellie stood to her right. Estel watched as there was a rippling in the ranks of the dwarves, and then, like a retreating wave, row upon row of dwarves bowed to the queen.

The leader of their company stepped forward. "Greetings, Lady Dis," he said. "We are poor miners from far to the south. Our ancestors fled from the wrath of Smaug almost two centuries ago. Word reached us of the deeds of your brother, and that there was now a place for all dwarves in the Lonely Mountain."

Dis smiled. "And so there is. I welcome our kin from the south, and I admire your bravery in coming all this way, even in the depths of winter."

The dwarf's face was slightly bitter. "There was no place for us in the south anymore, or we would not have attempted such a journey in this weather."

Dis laid a hand on the dwarf's arm and waited until he met her clear, forceful gaze. "Then I admire you all the more, and there is a place waiting for you at Erebor. Go now, while you have the light, but take this ring with you." She twisted it off from her finger. "Give it to my cousin, Dain, and inform him that you come with my blessing, and he will see you well and settled." She smiled at them all and raised her voice. "You are almost there. May Mahal smile on you, and welcome you to the Halls of our Ancestors."

A cheer rang up from the weary and broken dwarves and Estel watched as their eyes filled with loyalty to the Lady Dis. It was a strange thing to see, lifeless and hopeless eyes regaining a spark. And all due to the presence, the words, the physical being of Dis. There was a stillness to her, a sense of restrained power and dignity, but also care and affection when she reached out and rested her hand on the cheek of an old dwarf-woman and enquired about her comfort and if she needed help.

He watched as pride in their race and in themselves was re-ignited; maybe only just a little bit, but it was enough. The dwarves picked up their heads and their feet a bit more. Many of them turned back for one last look at the queen.

The four companions stood to the side and watched the straggling line of dwarves until they disappeared on the horizon.

Only when they were gone did Dis turn away and bid the others to follow.

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They came within sight of a small, human village on the southern borders of Rhovanion three days later.

Unfortunately for the inhabitants, mostly farmers and herders, they were under attack by a band of marauding Orcs.

Dis stood in the shadow of a rock half a mile out and watched them with a practiced eye. "Doesn't seem to be any lookouts or advance scouts."

"Only about a hundred and fifty orcs as well," Ellie said, surveying the scene with folded arms. "Looks do-able."

Estel watched the two women, but didn't speak. The Dunedain would never have contemplated any all-out attack in broad daylight, across and empty field, with four men. The Elves of Rivendell would have had armor and hours and a hundred Elves to match a hundred Orcs.

Legolas had already drawn his bow. "What are we standing around talking for?" demanded. "Let's hunt some orc!"

And then he was off, running with elven lightness of foot over the white ground, stringing his bow and firing as he went, picking off orcs on the outskirts of the village.

Dis' eyes sparked at the challenge. "I'm not about to be out-done by any Elf!" she roared, sprinting after the prince.

Ellie sighed, fitted some knuckle-dusters on her hands, and pulled out a short sword. "You've got Legoas," she snapped at Estel, already running after her sister-in-law. "Make sure he doesn't end up dead!"

The midday sun was directly overhead, bright and warm, as Estel ran, Legolas' fair hair already nearing the village. Melting snow slushed under his feet and his breath came in sharp gasps and he grabbed air into his lungs and pushed his legs faster.

Dis had reached the north side of the village, and Legolas was already approaching the south. Half of the buildings were on fire. Screams could be heard from the terrified inhabitants, many of their citizen already lying dead on the ground, their blood spreading in the melting snow and mud around them.

And then, over the screams of civilians, he heard the shouts of Khuzdul as Dis entered the fray, but the other two obviously fought silently, for thought Estel followed the sounds of metal on metal in his pursuit of Legolas, the elven-prince was an otherwise silent killer.

And then Estel entered the village, ducked the swing of the orcish blade aimed at his face, and the battle was on.

Sweat poured in his eyes, blood splashed – hot and foul-smelling – on his hands and arms, and the Black Speech sounded all around him.

It felt like he cleaved through dozens of orcs, but later realized it could only have been several – the stragglers and those who fled – for Legolas had already passed through and dispatched with most of them. Estel made his way steadily towards the center of town, knowing that that would be where the greatest concentration of orcs would be.

And he was right.

By the time he got there the other three were engaged in battle, swords and daggers slicing through enemies. Some of the townspeople, taking heart, picked up anything near at hand and attempted to help.

Estel saved an elderly man from being decapitated, and in return, a few seconds later, the man walloped the back of an orc's head with a shovel; an orc who had been attempted to creep up on Estel's unprotected side. He noticed, with the quick observational skills drilled into him by a lifetime of living among Elves, that Legolas was a reckless fighter. The elven prince moved with fluidity and grace, swift and deadly, his every blow landing exactly where he intended it to, but he made decisions that Estel found….slightly unsettling.

Legolas jumped into enemies where he was entirely surrounded, again and again. He was utterly heedless of attack by bow and arrow from orcs in any of the surrounding windows. He hesitated too long after sticking his blade into an orc. And he fought as a one-man army, utterly out of sync with Dis, Eliriel and Estel himself.

Too late Estel noticed a bow trained on the elf-prince from an orc archer lurking in one of the side allies. Before he had time to shout or reach Legolas, the arrow was loosed and Estel could only watch in horror as it…..

…impacted into the shield Ellie held up, right before Legolas' back.

She frowned at him across the heaving commotion, but seemed more contemplative than angry. Estel was unwillingly impressed with how fast she had moved, and her situational awareness, but such grudging respect only caused him to dislike her all the greater. Her eyes narrowed. "I've got this. Watch out for Dis," she said, placing her back to Legolas'.

Estel moved over to the dwarf-queen, who was cleaving through enemies with some enjoyment, but he noticed that Legolas was aware of Ellie's presence, and silently altered his fighting pattern to include her.

The battle of was over several minutes later. Ellie vanished to mop up any stragglers, and to patrol the surroundings for those orcs who had fled, leaving Dis to take charge of the decimated village-folk. There was little any of them could do except lend a hand.

The village leader was dead, but his wife took over, sending out the healthy to pick up the wounded and escort them back to the town-hall, where medicines – such as these humans had – were scrounged and all attempts were made to save those who were injured.

It was several hours later that Dis, Legolas and Estel stepped out from the villagers and took a breather. There was a numbness in Estel's brain, a sort of feeling of unreality, at all the death and pain he had witness today. He tried to fight through it, but knew that he looked a little greener than usual, for Dis started talking about something inconsequential. Legolas would answer her every now and then with monosyllables, but she did not seem deterred. She unpacked some food for all three of them, absently wondered where Ellie had got to, and then, noticing that Aragorn's color had improved, made a light remark.

"I bet your elf-beloved would have been able to heal these people much faster than any of us could, what with her being Elrond's daughter and all. You should have brought her along."

Although Dis was teasing and Estel blushed – which turned out puce do to his odd coloring to begin with, and therefore looked slightly gross – Legolas froze. The elf-prince slowly unfolded his arms and looked from Dis to Estel and back again.

"Lord Elrond's daughter?" he asked, blankly. "The descendent of Luthien, of whom it is said that her beauty has come again?" But it wasn't really a question. Dis and Estel were silent, studying the elf-prince as his cold, blue eyes narrowed and positively glittered.

And then the prince all but hissed. "Do you mean to tell me that this…this…this….." he stepped forward and jabbed a finger viciously into Estel, "mortal," he finally got out, "is in love with an elf too?!"

"Legolas," Dis said, in warning, subtly angling herself in Estel's direction in a protective motion.

The elf paid her no mind. He looked like he was restraining himself from inflicting grievous bodily harm on Aragorn only through sheer force of will. His body was fairly thrumming with rage. "Haven't you done enough," he hissed. "Haven't you all done enough!"

"Legolas!" Dis snapped, and something in her tone seemed to get through to him, for he fixed Estel with a gaze of absolute hate, but stepped back.

"You stay away from me," he hissed once more. And then he vanished in the shadows of the buildings. The setting sun, red and slowly cooling, shown upon two pale faces as Dis and Estel looked at each other.

Dis rested a hand on the young man's arm, silently asking if he was alright.

"What just happened?" Estel asked the world in general.

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Endnote: As ever, please let me know what you think! Good or bad. Of course, hoping for good. Insecure author here, but all reviews are welcome. Always.