Chapter 59: Next meeting
"I appreciate it; we'll rest for a few weeks before setting off," Thorin said with his usual serious demeanor. He knew Beorn was right; a single night's rest wouldn't fully restore them, and this house was safe, allowing them to rest without fear of being attacked by orcs. He doubted they were foolish enough to challenge Beorn.
"Very well, rest up. I'll go get more firewood," Beorn replied as he left the house, heading toward the forest. This time, he didn't transform into a bear, as his temperament changes when he does, often becoming very aggressive. He didn't want to attack them by accident.
Watching Beorn leave eased the fear still brewing inside the dwarves. They were grateful for his help, but they still feared that at any moment, Beorn might transform into a bear and attack them.
"Damn it, I can't eat peacefully with that giant nearby," Bombur said as he began devouring the food laid out on the table. The other dwarves nodded in agreement; for some reason, the giant's presence made them uncomfortable, especially after Gandalf had mentioned that he didn't like dwarves.
"Yes, we'd better eat well while he's gone," added Glóin, stuffing himself with lamb legs, ignoring the fruit and vegetables available. He preferred meat; he wasn't some foolish elf who ate plants.
"I hate milk. Don't we have any wine?" Dwalin complained in frustration. He didn't like milk; this meat feast should be accompanied by wine, not milk. Clearly, all the dwarves began venting what they had kept bottled up; they hadn't spoken out of fear, but now that the giant was gone, they could let loose with their curses and foul words.
With a sigh, Gandalf leaned back in his chair, took out his pipe, and took a puff. These dwarves were too noisy. Fortunately, Beorn had already gone far enough away not to hear the dwarves' comments. "What a long journey," he murmured. Very few times in his life had he traveled with dwarves, but without a doubt, this was the most annoying of all. These dwarves, in particular, were very noisy, rude, and ill-mannered.
Bilbo felt the same; his small body slumped into the enormous chair. Fortunately, he had finished eating; otherwise, his appetite would have vanished at the sight of the dwarves eating like animals. They had no table manners, which was very bothersome, yet it didn't stop him from appreciating the cheerful atmosphere that was starting to take shape. They might be rude and without manners, but without a doubt, they were very good friends who would fight alongside you to the death.
"Hey Aldril, do you have any wine in your ring? If so, bring it out; I hate milk when eating meat," Glóin shouted while still chewing, causing food to spray from his mouth and splatter the beards of the nearby dwarves.
This scene made Bilbo grimace in disgust, shaking himself with revulsion. Aldril, who was beside him, saw this and smiled in amusement. "This is all that's left," he said, pulling out three bottles of wine from his ring and placing them on the table. The dwarves quickly grabbed them, starting to fight over who would get a bottle.
Beside him, Bilbo admired the finger where the ring was placed. "It's spectacular every time I see it. It's a great help for long journeys," he said as he admired the silver color of the ring, though for him, his ring was better. It made him invisible and was gold, a bit prettier than Aldril's.
Laughing softly at Bilbo's comment, Aldril shook his head in amusement. Bilbo was very expressive; it was easy to tell what he was thinking. Turning his gaze to the grey wizard, he noticed that Gandalf had his eyes closed, the pipe still in his mouth. "Hey Gandalf, how long until we reach Mirkwood?" he asked.
Without opening his eyes, Gandalf lazily replied, "If we're given horses, it'll take us a month." That was the only thing Aldril hated: the journeys were so long. But his adventurous side told him it was a wonderful experience that he should cherish.
Thorin, who was the most civilized, raised an eyebrow at Gandalf's comment. Fortunately, they still had time to reach their destination; otherwise, he would have urged them to leave immediately that very day. This was one of the changes Aldril had brought about; in the original story, the group arrived just in time, but with Aldril helping them deal with orcs and other situations, their journey had been shortened. Also, for some reason, the horses didn't tire as much when near Shadow Star.
"Horses," Aldril murmured as he lay back, remembering Shadow Star, his precious horse. He wouldn't deny that he missed him; it felt very strange being without him. "I hope you're alright, my friend," he said in a low voice, though Bilbo still heard him and looked at him sympathetically.
"He'll be alright, Aldril. I'm sure you'll see him again," Bilbo said, hoping to lift Aldril's spirits.
"I know," he replied, appreciating Bilbo's attempt to cheer him up. He knew Shadow Star would be fine, but he still couldn't help but worry about him.
-Dol Guldur-
The air in Dol Guldur was heavy with a disturbing energy, a hum of dark magic that seemed to permeate every corner of the fortress. The shadowy towers loomed menacingly against the gray sky, and the vegetation of Mirkwood, poisoned by dark power, added an even darker touch.
Azog, feared by the orcs, had arrived at the fortress after a long journey. A few months ago, his son mentioned that the master had summoned him, so he quickly departed, leaving the pursuit of the dwarves to his son.
As he ventured deeper into the ruins of Dol Guldur, Azog felt the strong presence of his master. He carefully observed the fortress, or rather, the ruins of what it once was. The atmosphere was dark and eerie, with withered trees lining the paths. Even for him, it was a terrifying environment—a testament to the power his master could wield.
It only took a few minutes for him to reach a circular structure, where only darkness could be seen below. At the top, a shadow began to form, and Azog immediately knelt in submission. The mere presence of his master filled him with unparalleled terror.
The black shadow regarded him as if he were nothing more than an insignificant insect, a tool to be used for its purposes. The shadow noticed the fresh wounds on Azog and found traces of that elven magic capable of harming dark beings like him; the wounds were caused by the same sword.
"We grow in number, we grow in strength. You will lead my army," came a terrifying voice, each word laden with power. The rough voice would make any being tremble unless they had a strong will, which is why many men fell under his dominion, men of weak will.
Azog, still on his knees, spoke, trying to sound as firm as possible. He couldn't show weakness before his master. "What about Oakenshield?" he asked. This was something that wasn't shown in the movie, where it appeared as though Azog defied Sauron's authority, which would be a very foolish thing to do, as he was an inferior being to Sauron.
"The war is coming. His death will come," replied the voice, even more sinister than before. "Kill the half-elf. His mother is far away; do not let his power grow." The voice grew even more menacing. If another being were present who could resist his dark power, they would notice the fear in his voice.
At the mention of the half-elf, Azog instinctively touched his recent scar, clenching his fist. "The son of that elf?" he said, still with his head bowed.
A terrifying sound came from the shadow, clearly displeased by the mention of that woman. "He is weak; he must die before he grows." Azog felt the immense malice but couldn't understand why his master became so agitated at the mention of that elf. Could there have been a history he didn't know about? Had his master also faced her? But that would be impossible.
"So it shall be," said Azog. Shortly after, the shadow of Sauron retreated into the depths, having given his command and seeing no reason to speak further with an inferior being.
Watching his master leave, Azog stood up and walked out of the circular structure with calm steps. Outside, orcs awaited him. "What did the master say?" asked one of the orcs, head bowed. Azog growled, annoyed by the orc's audacity, but nonetheless, he gave his order. "Go, tell Bolg to kill the half-elf who is with Oakenshield." With that said, Azog ventured deeper into the fortress.
-With Sauron-
He didn't show it, but a hidden wound began to burn when that orc mentioned that woman. The wound appeared as a white line across his chest. It had been a long time since he fought that elf. Only a few years ago had he regained his physical form, but that wound inflicted by that elf had struck at his very being.
That damned sword was supposed to be lost, but Azog's wound was caused by the same sword that had injured him, hence his fear. He quickly concluded that the son of that woman had managed to obtain the sword he had sought for so long. Fortunately, the half-elf still seemed weak, as his power did not yet appear strong enough to sever the essence of those he cut.
Narsil had wounded his physical body, but Anguirel had harmed his essence. It was logical that he feared this sword more. He didn't bother to go personally to kill the half-elf, believing that it would be beneath him to fight with inferior beings.
In his arrogance, he did not present himself to kill Aldril. Otherwise, he would have discovered that, like Tindómiel, her son was blessed by Varda, the Vala whom his master Morgoth so feared. This blessing allowed him to fight on equal terms even with the One Ring on. Despite this, Sauron had managed to kill Gil-galad and inflict a dark wound on that woman. It was a shame he didn't manage to kill that human; otherwise, he would have slain two of the three who defeated him.
-Mirkwood-
"He still seeing her, aren't you?" asked Thalwen to Tauriel, who nodded. They were currently in that garden where they had once talked. Lately, the queen had been calling her very often, perhaps due to what happened with Legolas, but recently she had been talking to her about that feeling of love.
With a sigh, the queen gently placed her hand on Tauriel's cheek. Her beauty outshone every rose or flower around them, and every movement, no matter how small, was made with great elegance.
"Do you want me to do something about it, Mother?" asked Tauriel. Thalwen shook her head. "There's no need, daughter," she said while looking at her lovingly. At that very moment, another elf approached and spoke delicately.
"My queen, a group has been seen entering the forest. The king seeks Lady Tauriel to lead and capture these people."
Thalwen nodded and turned to Tauriel. "Go, daughter, and be very careful." Tauriel quickly nodded and stood up. "I will, Mother," she said before quickly leaving the garden to head towards her team. It was very strange for a group to be wandering through the forest. As she walked through the corridors, she felt an inexplicable nervousness, perhaps it was fate or something else, warning her that she would soon encounter that destined person.
-The Group of Dwarves-
"Damn it, Bombur, how can you fall asleep at a time like this?" yelled Aldril as he pulled Bombur's heavy body out of the water.
***here's your chapter of the day, fellow orcs!On a side note, my mother is watching the rings of power, I sat down to watch the recent episode and my goodness! Galadriel kisses Elrond! HAHAHAHA Celeborn is now a cuckold! i almost died laughing when i saw that scene haha
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