Iaur Meleth

From day to day, the company moved more and more east, and the hobbit got used to camping under the open sky and without the usual comforts. When the weather broke down and it rained continuously for several days, he joined Gandalf, joking about the weather and magic tricks. He slowly felt as if he had found his family again - a very strange and distant branch, but still a family.

During one of the night rests, the young hobbit, still not used to his companions' loud snoring, was unable to fall asleep. He stood up and, stretching his limbs, approached the dwarves on watch duty. There were strange noises in the distance - screams, snarls and scratches of steel.

"What was that?" asked Bilbo.

"Orcs," said Balin.

"Orcs?" He frowned and shivered, remembering pictures he had seen in old books in his father's study.

"Nasty bloodthirsty creatures," said Kili. "Here, behind Bree, is full of them."

"On dark nights like this, “Fili started quietly”, they come to small, quiet villages. Then they invade. In silence, they slash the throats of villagers, burn houses and rape women. On nights like this, they shed rivers of blood and tears. "He finished, laughing with his brother at the expression on the hobbit's face.

"Is that funny for you?" Thorin asked, his voice thundering behind them, his eyes full of fire. "Are the orcs raids a funny joke to you?"

"We didn't mean it," Kili said quietly with a scowl.

"Of course, you're not. You know nothing about the world, ”Thorin said as he turned around, his body tense, and walked out of the nook to the night, staring at the darkness around.

"Relax, lads, don't judge him," Balin calmed the guilty-looking brothers along with the puzzled hobbit, "Thorin has a terrible past with orcs. “He sighed deeply.”  His grandfather and brother were killed by them right before his eyes."

" After Erebor fell into Smaug's greedy paws, his grandfather wanted to regain the reign of the greatest dwarven city - Dwarrowdelf. Unfortunately, he insisted on being very demanding and derogatory to the envoy sent by the King of it. The envoy was sent to relay a message and offer help under one simple condition. Sadly, but predictably, the envoy left with a gravely offending response. Not much later, Thror was beheaded by orcs, who heard about the wandering dwarves and yearned for their blood. The king's body was eaten by the wargs in front of his own kin." He paused, glancing at Thorin."The battle on the vast plains of Dunland cost him very much.”

The old dwarf stopped for a while, absentminded. Then, he continued his story. 

“The great pale orc proclaimed himself a slayer of the Durin family. The scene I have seen next is something that I will never forget. Our young dwarf prince charged a pale orc, attacking bravely and shielding himself only with the oaken branch picked from the ground. Raising the sword, he cut off his arm and was ready to slay the fallen orc, but was attacked by the warg and never given the chance to revenge his family. The orcs retreated, having learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. "

“There were so many of our dead and wounded after this battle.” Suddenly, Dwalin joined, his deep voice full of sorrow. ” Then we followed Thorin. His father was too absorbed in regaining the Mountain to be a good leader. "

With Thorin still looking at the horizon, he felt the whole company staring at him. Having heard Bilbo's quiet question about his father's whereabouts, he responded.

"He was kidnapped by orcs," Thorin said with hatred, "Dragged right into their nest and probably killed."

"Are there any other wizards?" Bilbo asked.

" Oh yes. There are five of us. "Gandalf said," There is Saruman the White - the strongest of us. Then there are two Blue, but they have not been seen here for a long time. Oh! And there's Radagast! "

"Are they lost?" The quiet question was left hanging between them for a good while.

"They are…just travelling, probably. Nobody heard or seen them for ages/centuries.” Gandalf finally responded.” I’m sure they are alright, just found something fascinating and simply lost track of time.” 

The brown-haired wizard was routinely inspecting the forest when he spotted several deer lying motionless in the grass.

"Oh, that's not good," he told himself, "It's going wrong."

He headed for the hut, and on the way, a hawk dusted him a curling hedgehog. He accelerated, and when he reached his destination, put the animal on the table and tried to save it. However, nothing helped. Potions, herbs, charms...

"Why is it not working?" He murmured to himself, "It helps with everything except ... Oh, yes. Witchcraft. Powerful black magic ...Yes, yes... That could help... Hmm... "He began to chant the spell in the old - and dangerous - language. Bringing his faithful companion back to life was worth the potential cost.

‘Something bad is happening here.’ He pondered, ‘Such curses do not appear out of nowhere.’

The titmouse came over and began to drill.

"Old forest?" he wondered, "Oh, not good, not good. Show me."

"We'll stop here," Thorin ordered late in the afternoon. "Fili, Kili, you're responsible for the horses. Oin, Gloin - start the fire."

"I wouldn't stop here," Gandalf said, looking at the rest of the fine-looking shack. Something abandoned should not look that sturdy. "I would go on to the Hidden Valley."

"I said - we stay here," replied Thorin firmly, "I'm not going there."

"Why? Elves can help us, give shelter, food and advice. "

"I don't need any advice from them." The response was cold, uttered from tightened lips.

"We have a map that we can't read. Lord Elrond can help us with this. " The old man still pushed.

"Help?" He mocked, "When Smaug attacked Erebor, what help did we get from the Elves?"

Gandalf moved but remained silent.

"The orcs killed my kin; a dragon polluted the glorious halls of my home. And the elves just looked at it. " Riled up, he approached Gandalf with a challenge in his eyes, "You ask me for help from people who cheated on my grandfather and, more importantly - on the whole of the Longbeard kin."

"You are not your grandfather," the wizard argued, "I didn't give you the map and the key to look into the past."

"I didn't know they belonged to you." The dwarf didn't give in. 

Irritated, Gandalf turned and walked away from the man.

After the unexpected fight with the trolls, the Company tirelessly searched the nearby forest, seeking after the cave - and more importantly - the treasures hidden there.

Finally, after almost an hour of searching, they found it, closed with an old, heavy door. Gandalf pulled out the key fished from the creature's clothes.

The cave was dark and smelled of musty and rotten meat. It wasn't extensive, but it was full of treasures. They found a lot of gold (which they buried as part of a long-term deposit - Glóins ingenious idea) and two swords from the time when Gondolin had fallen or even before that. They reminded Thorin, as a pin stuck in his side, about a guest who once told him various stories in his childhood years (even against his father and grandfather's will). Amongst all of it, a small sword (or a letter opener) was also found - one that perfectly suited the youngest of them.

The Company went down the pathway, slowly changing into a high and slim canyon. When Bilbo looked up, he saw a beautiful blue sky between differently moulded rock walls. They had been going through the small stream bed, listening to the soft, calming sound of running water. Dwarves had been shouldering their way to rapidly go to the place with more space. The first dwarf in line stood for a second in shock at the beautiful view, but the rest of the company quickly shoved him forward.

Bruised, they walked out of the rock crevasse and looked around. The lovely landscape extended as far as one could see. Lots of different-sized waterfalls and various coloured leafy trees. Houses blended smoothly in all that as if created by nature itself. 

They continued down the path. The company was going slowly through the narrow bridge, with a fast-moving river below, surrounding multiple boulders poking above the level of water and falling lower and lower under them. At the end of the bridge, they were welcomed by the view of two vast monuments of elves warriors. The architecture of all buildings was atemporal and delightful. Intricates adornments modelled on nature - mostly on curling branches and vines. Bright stones which had been used added etherealness to this place and the whole had been accomplished by high, soaring windows with dainty frames.

Stoical guardians who stood near, overwatching the yard, swiftly sent for the elf, who - looking at his posture and attire - must have held the high position in Valley. The brown-haired elf approached them with frowned brows and slightly tightened lips.

“Mithrandir'' he welcomed the wizard “What is the cause of your and your… company visit?” A little bit of contempt on his face was visible on his face.

“Lindor, my old friend!” The old man responded with a smile, “We are searching for Lord Elrond’s guidance. Where is he, if I may ask?”

“Not here.” The response came immediately. “Lord is busy with… other, more pressing matters at the moment.”

“...-other. Brother.” The gentle whispers filled the silent room. “ Time to wake up, Brother.” The warm voice continued.

The male body lying on the bed slowly opened his eyes. Despite the years-long rest, his eyes were still filled with weariness. The person sat up, revealing their long, dark, silky hair and deeply green eyes.

“Thank you, Chaos”, He whispered back, his voice hoarse but soft.