Then after so ti,
The Elves under Thranduil arrived at Dale.
They moved in formation across the ruined city, stepping over broken stone and abandoned structures without slowing. Armor and weapons remained ready, not raised, but not relaxed either.
Thranduil rode at the front, his gaze moving across Dale before settling on the Lonely Mountain. The silence coming from it confird what the signs had already told him.
He raised his hand, signaling the army to hold position.
The Elven ranks stopped at once, forming across the ruins of Dale as orders passed quietly. Within monts, a command tent was set, and Thranduil took his place inside.
Thranduil sat within the command area tent, his attention already on what lay ahead rather than the march behind.
Tauriel and Legolas entered.
"Hm," Thranduil said, his gaze resting on Tauriel. "I am not angered that you chose to ignore my command and pursue the Orcs. At least now, you have seen the outco of such choices."
Tauriel remained silent.
Even now, she did not agree. To her, allowing evil to pass through their lands without action was wrong, and that had not changed.
Legolas stepped forward.
"Father, there is sothing you should know," he said. "It concerns the man responsible for Smaug's disappearance."
Thranduil's attention shifted.
"A man defeated Smaug?" he asked, the doubt clear. "Since when do n possess such strength?"
Legolas held his ground.
"He appears as a man," he said, "but what he did… it was not human. I saw the aftermath near Lake-town. That was no human battle. He fought the dragon barehanded."
Tauriel added, her voice steady, "He did not slay the dragon. He subdued it. Even now, it is with him."
Thranduil's expression remained calm, but his eyes sharpened slightly.
"Then he is no man," he said.
Legolas nodded.
"He wears the form of one," he replied. "But whatever he is… it is sothing else."
"A being capable of bending a dragon to his will, and that too Smaug, who is both strong and prideful," he said quietly. "And now present at Erebor."
"He disappeared by morning from Lake-town," Legolas added.
"So," Thranduil said, his voice asured, "what is this man's na? Or does he even have one?"
"His na is Luke," Tauriel answered. "He was in the Woodland Realm as well. He entered without being seen… and left the sa way."
"When did this happen?"
"When the Orcs ca," Tauriel replied.
A brief silence followed.
"So," Thranduil said, "what do you make of him? Is he an ally… or an enemy?"
Neither of them answered imdiately.
He had not co to the Lonely Mountain for gold.
Among the hoard of Erebor lay the White Gems of Lasgalen—jewels shaped by the Dwarves, but commissioned by Thranduil himself. They were ant for soone.
For his wife.
She never received them.
She died in battle at Gundabad before the gems were ever returned. After that, they were no longer just a gift. They beca the only thing left that still connected him to her, and that was enough to make him hold onto them.
When he went to Erebor to claim them, Thrór refused.
To Thranduil, it was simple. The gems were commissioned by him, ant for his wife, and never delivered. Keeping them was greed.
The Dwarves saw it differently. To them, it was a matter of paynt and craft, sothing unsettled, not theft.
That refusal did not stay a single mont. It settled into resentnt, and that resentnt stayed between Elves and Dwarves long after.
"Since that man disappeared, there is no need to dwell on him," Thranduil said, his voice calm but decisive as he rose from his seat within the tent. "Prepare the army. We march on the Lonely Mountain."
Before anyone could move, a familiar presence entered.
Gandalf stepped into the tent without ceremony, staff in hand, his expression heavier than usual. Dust and strain marked him, but his eyes were sharp, carrying urgency that did not belong to ordinary matters.
Thranduil's gaze shifted to him, unreadable.
"Wizard," he said, his tone cool, almost dismissive. "If you have co to plead for the Dwarves, you waste your ti. I know where your loyalties lie. That does not an I will listen."
Gandalf did not react to the edge in his voice. He stepped forward, planting his staff lightly against the ground, drawing their attention without force.
"I did not co for the Dwarves," he said. "Not this ti."
That alone was enough to slow the mont.
"There is a greater matter," Gandalf continued, his voice steady. "Sothing moving beyond this mountain, beyond your quarrel with stone and gold. A darkness is rising again in the East. Armies are gathering, not of n or Elves—but of Orcs. Not scattered bands, but war-hosts. Organized. Driven."
Legolas' expression tightened slightly at that, while Tauriel's eyes sharpened with recognition of what that ant.
Gandalf looked between them, then back at Thranduil.
"This is not the ti to turn blade against each other. If you march on Erebor now, you will not be facing Dwarves alone. You will be caught in sothing far worse."
Silence followed, but it was not empty.
Thranduil did not answer imdiately. His gaze drifted, thoughtful but distant, weighing sothing deeper than Gandalf's warning alone.
When he finally spoke, his voice remained composed.
"You speak of shadows and war," he said. "But I see only what stands before . A mountain filled with treasure long denied… and a debt yet unpaid."
"I will not be turned aside so easily, Mithrandir."
Gandalf held his gaze, knowing the words had landed, even if they had not yet changed the outco.
"The world is changing," he said quietly. "Whether you choose to see it or not."
*****
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