Title: The Unexpected
Summary: What if Bella was the youngest daughter of Galadriel, one who thought was lost but in hiding. What if Gandalf asks for her aid in Thorin’s quest.
Author Note: WHY HAS THIS CONSUMED ME SO?
BTW I should mention Italics are the elves speaking in their native tongue Sindarin. Bold Italics is when they are speaking in Khuzdul. All words translated at the bottom.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the twilight series and I really don’t own any of Tolkien’s amazing work.
Bella and Bilbo quickly made their way back inside, following the carried voice of Thorin. Bella knew immediately they were in the throne room, her feet carrying her instinctively and at a pace Bilbo could follow.
They both paused one for a second and the other for a little longer as he took in the stunning great throne room. It was massive, damaged from the dragon, but massive and breathtaking. Bella came to a stop at her brother’s sides, her hand gesturing for Bilbo to come forth. He did so immediately, moving to stand between Thorin and the three in an awkward silence.
No one dared to make a noise as Thorin muttered to himself as he gazed at the throne where which the Arkenstone had been inlaid but now three long jagged marks sat from the beasts’ claw.
“It is here in these halls, I know it.” Thorin muttered gruffly, his voice dark.
“We have searched and searched…” Dwalin growled out.
He was cut off by the king. “Not well enough!”
Dwalin glanced at his brother wearily. “Thorin, we all would see the stone returned.”
“And yet, it is still not FOUND!” The rage caused three to flinch but Bella just glowered at the king.
Tears pooled in Balin’s eyes but he did not fall as he choked out the words he wished to say. “Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?”
Thorin turned sharply his eyes enraged and slowly walked toward Balin and Dwalin, ignoring Bilbo.
The stare did not deter Balin. “The Arkenstone is the birthright of our people.”
“It is the King’s Jewel. AM I NOT THE KING?!” Thorin roared, causing Bilbo, Dwalin and Balin to flinch back at the harshness.
“No, you are not.” Bella’s words cracked out in the hall. Dwalin and Balin inhaled sharply as they stared up at their sister, flinching when they saw the harshness on her face. “The Dwarf before me is not a king, who are you Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór?”
“You dare disrespect me Elf.” Thorin spat as he took a few more steps forward. “I am king under the mountain.”
The sound that left Moriel’s lips was nothing they had heard before. “Then you are truly lost. You stand before me and I do not see Thorin Oakenshield, I see Thrór son of Dáin I. There have been many things left undone while you search, Erebor is open and food is low. If you can answer me this my king then I will let it lie for now. What is important now, the gold or your kin?”
The question hung heavily in the air as Thorin and Bella were locked in a battle, both of them refusing to back down.
Thorin shook his head, clarity seeping back into his mind for a second as the words settled in his mind. Only for a second he could see before the whispers returned, hate and greed and deceit.
Silver tongued snake… cut out her tongue.
But she is right… Dwalin and Balin looked tired, hungry…
NO! They all are lying… deceitful backstabbing thieves. One of them has stolen it.
“The Arkenstone must be found and if anyone should find it and withhold it from me, I will be avenged.” He spat out, noting the way his friends staggered and the elf’s face to harden even more, but there was no care in his heart for them.
“Then so be it.” Bella stated before pivoting on her foot and striding from the room, her brothers and Bilbo scurrying after her.
Dwalin and Balin shared a look, one with a steely gaze and the other with tears as they followed their Namad, wondering what happened to their friend, their king. How did they not see it till then? They could have prevented it, could have somehow… no they knew it wouldn’t have helped. This was bound to happen sooner or later but they had hoped.
Balin staggered a little as they entered another corridor, breaking away from the group and into a study, or was it a lesser library? He wasn’t too sure anymore, he let out a shuddering sob as he stumbled to the back of the room and away from the door.
He let out the cries to the point he knew that he had to find the others, his breaths shuddering as he tried to settle the sobs that still wished to be free. Soft padded feet reached his ears and he knew that the steps were Bilbo’s, too soft for a dwarf but too heavy for Moriel.
“Dragon-sickness… I’ve seen it before. That look, that terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad.” He gasped out, trying to explain to the young hobbit or simply just to voice his thoughts.
Bilbo blinked at the teary Dwarf before him, his chest tightening at the fear and pain behind the usual calm dwarf made him wary…
“Balin, if, if Thorin…had the Arkenstone…” he paused, giving the dwarf a pointed look. “…if it was found, would it help?”
Slight realisation settled in Balin’s chest as he stared at the hard faced and concerned hobbit before him. “That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Will it stay his madness? No, lad; I fear it would make it worse. Perhaps it is best that it remains lost.”
With that Bilbo nodded, pivoted on his foot and walked away, leaving Balin alone once more. That was all he needed to know, the Arkenstone would not cure Thorin of his madness, only cement it in place. He walked aimlessly until he finally came to a stop on a balcony, overlooking the splendour of Erebor, it truly was stunning.
With a deep sigh he collapsed on the stone bench besides the door, his mind uneasy as he tried to think of what to do with the heavy stone in his coat pocket. Though a warm almost content smile graced his face as he pulled out the acorn he took from Beorn’s garden.
“What is that?!” The thundering voice of the King caused Bilbo to jerk and spring up, whirling his body around to face him. The expression was the same as it had been, but somehow it seemed more menacing and it took all Bilbo had not to flinch away from it.
“In your hand!” Thorin snarled, his eyes gleaming with wrath.
Bilbo stammered at the dark look. “It-It’s nothing.”
“Then show me.” The king demanded his voice dark and menacing.
He didn’t know what to do but stammer his lips twitched in a self-conscious smile, unable to help it before holding out his hand and opening it. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden.”
Something within Thorin lifted, the haze lifting for him to see the simple acorn, before staring at the hobbits face in astonishment. “You’ve carried it all this way.” He whispered in awe.
Bilbo felt his heart thud strongly as the king smiled fondly at him, his face softening into the one he knew and not the one the sickness had created. “I’m gonna plant it in my garden, in Bag End.”
“That’s a poor price to take back to the Shire.” Thorin whispered, a smile tugging at his lips once again.
“One day it’ll grow. And every time I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad and how lucky I am that I made it home.” Bilbo explained, happy to see the clarity on the King’s face once again even for a moment. Hope bloomed within him, maybe now he could try and knock some sense into the king. “Thorin…”
“Thorin, survivors…from Laketown. They are streaming into Dale. There are hundreds of them.” Dwalin exclaimed as he strode towards his king and Bilbo, his eyes taking note that the smile on the hobbits crumpled and fear replaced it. It took a moment’s glance at his king to know that his timing could have been better as he saw the clarity in his friend and cousins’ eyes once again turn to madness.
“Call everyone to the gate.” Thorin strode off, shouting. “TO THE GATE! NOW!” His voice boomed throughout the halls.
Bard led the people – his people – up and through the ruins of Dale. His eyes took in the horror and beauty of the once shining city and tried to ignore the death that still sat and lay in the streets and buildings.
It was cold, the snow coming down the night before, thankfully covering most of the horrors. But he knew, he knew that come soon the snow would melt and the bodies that lay will have to be moved or burned.
“Da?” Tilda whimpered softly, her eyes wide and staring up at him in horror and sadness. Oh his sweet child, they and everyone else should not have to see this awfulness but there were no other options. He gave her a sad smile, asking his eldest with a pleading glance to take her while he tended to the people behind them and guided them through the ruins.
“SIRE! Sire! Up here!” Alfrid screeched from one of the city walls. Bard sighed annoyed at the fool who appointed himself as his deputy before making his way up to the top. “Look sire, the braziers are lit.”
Bard cast his eyes out towards the great gate of Erebor disheartened and surprised. It was indeed true, the braziers were lit. “So, the company of Thorin Oakenshield survived.”
Alfrid stared at Bard in disbelief. “Survived? You mean there’s a bunch of dwarves in there with all that gold?”
“You shouldn’t worry, Alfrid. There’s gold enough in that mountain for all.” Bard reassured the greedy weasel before he addressed the others, unease settling in his stomach. “Make camp here tonight. Find what shelter you can. Get some fires going. Alfrid, you take the night watch.”
Night came quick and even with the fires it was bitter cold, many people huddling around each other to seek for warmth. Bard drew his children close for a tight hug, holding them throughout the night and told them stories that their mother used to tell them.
He had nearly failed them all, failed them like his ancestor did but he managed. The loss was great but many survived all because of his son and the Lady. They could rebuild their homes and harvest once more when and if Thorin stuck to his word, still the unease would not leave and Bard fell into a restless sleep.
It felt like he had just closed his eyes for a second before he snapped them open again, his body aching from sitting on stone. The first signs of dawn were on the horizon and he could hear many awake and crying or moaning.
“Bain look after your sisters.” He whispered to his son when he cast up a sleepy gaze, before carefully extracting himself from his children and made his way outside through the crowd, taking anything that needed to be given to another.
“Bard, we don’t have enough.” Percy choked out as others cried for food. Bard knew this, knew that they had not enough food to survive, he prayed for a miracle.
“Do want you can, Percy.” He replied before coming to a sudden stop as he took in so many sick and wounded. “The children, the wounded and the women come first.”
Bard frowned and marched over to where he last saw Alfrid standing guard.
“Morning, Alfrid. What news from the night watch?” He didn’t utter another word as he saw the weasel yawn and bat open his eyes before coming to another sudden halt.
His eyes took in the elves that stood in the open court dressed in full battle gear, standing in perfectly ordered lines. “Except an army of elves, it would seem.”
His unease grew as he walked down the steps towards them, jerking back as they moved as one to create a path for him to walk through. Their armour shone like fire in the rising sun and their bows rested ready to use in their hands. If they were here, that meant the king himself was not far behind, a thought proven true as Bard caught the Elven king rode towards him on a stag.
“My lord Thranduil; we did not look to see you here.” Bard greeted the king. He had never met Thranduil before and had only seen him a few times but now dressed in full battle gear the Elf was intimidating.
“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil hummed and turned towards the wagon full of food and drinks come to a stop.
Bard watched in relief as the people cheered and thanked the Elven King as they took the food and drink. For the first time in days, he felt hope for his people’s survival. “You have saved us! I do not how to thank you.”
“Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf.” Thranduil stated cold, his eyes dark as he stared down at the human. “I came to reclaim something of mine and… and a friend had stated you needed aid so I came on her request as well.”
Bard stared at the elven king as the soldiers began to march out and towards the mountain, the stag disappearing around the bend. “Wait! Please, wait! You would go to war over a handful of gems?”
Thranduil cast a sideways look at the Man, annoyance laced his tone. “The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken.”
“We are allies in this. My people also have a claim upon the riches in that mountain! Let me speak with Thorin!” Bard pleaded desperately, watching as the Elven king turned to him sharply and even though his face did not move he could see the amused disbelief in them.
“You would try to reason with a dwarf?” The elven king asked in disbelief, there were no ways to reason with them.
“To avoid war? Yes! There has been enough death on these lands and I cannot risk my people or the Lady who is with them. Maybe she can help me reason with him.” Bard explained, jerking back as the Elven King’s mask twisted into something he had never seen upon a Elf’s face before, something he could not name.
“Canadriel is in that mountain?” Thranduil asked slowly, dark. Thranduil… Thranduil… The town of Esgaroth will need your aid, do not let the darkness consume you once again Mellon-iaur… It was her voice that spurred him to help, he could not deny his eldest friend a thing and yet he still let the darkness consume him.
Bard blinked. “Yes, the Elf, her chosen had stated she would be with them after the dragon fell the next morn.”
Thranduil stared at the Man before him at the news, his eyes sliding shut at the thought of Canadriel in the mountain when they went to war but he needed those gems, the necklace that lay with them for it was his Chosen’s. “I will allow this; my archers will stand guard upon the ruins ready for your word.”
With a deep sigh Bard nodded, he knew that this was the only chance to try and stop a war. He hoped and prayed that it would not come to that but something deep within him dreaded the confrontation.
“I’ll need a horse to travel then.”
Bella watched from the rampart, her eyes narrowed in annoyance as she took in the glinting armour of the woodland guard. What on middle-earth was that bastard thinking? This would be viewed poorly by Thorin, seeing it as a declaration of war.
“Bella, this isn’t going to end well is it?” Bilbo asked softly, just enough for her to hear only.
Bella cast a look down into the wide eyes of Bilbo and shook her head. No Bilbo, this is not going to end very well.
“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.” Bard called up to the Dwarrow’s that looked down upon him, the knot of dread returning as he saw the darkness that seemed to be etched into Thorin’s face.
Thorin sneered, his eyes never leaving the bowman, the thief. “Why do come to the gates of the king under the mountain armed for war?”
“Why does the king under the mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hole.” Bard spat back, nearly instantly regretting it as he watched the kings face twist into that of fury.
“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.” The words cut across the open air, cracking like a whip.
“My lord, we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?” Bard pleaded.
Thorin cast a look upon the elves once more, a sneer pulling at his face before directing his look down upon the Man as he finished his plea.
Bella stayed up on the rampart as the others followed their king down, her eyes catching Bards. Bard knew that this was not going to end well; he knew that there was no hope to persuade the king from his gold as he took in the emotions that flickered behind the dark oak eyes of Lady Canadriel. Her expression said it all, but he would still try.
She listened to them talk, to them argue and bicker and she listened as Bard asked Thorin if he had no Honour. At this point, with the haze of gold sickness in his mind there would be no thoughts of such. Anything that was said before reaching this cursed mountain was simply a distant memory clouded by a haze of greed and lust.
“My Lady, can you not do anything?” Bard asked as he cast a look back up once being dismissed.
Bella sighed. “No Bard, there is nothing I can do to persuade my king.” This gave bard a jolt of shock. “I have tried and failed, there is no reasoning for he is in madness now, it is why I say not much in his presence, he claimed me as kin but in this moment I am nothing but an elf.”
The word was spat like a sour taste, her face twisting in a way that did not suit her and it worried him. He could see though the scars were gone and she looked as if there were never any damage, her eyes were too dark, her cheeks too gaunt… she looked sick still.
“Go Bard the Dragon-Slayer, Thranduil is awaiting you.” She instructed, her head cocking to the side as she listened to the sounds around her. The birds, Thorin ordering a raven to Dain, and the sounds over at Dale.
Bard shook his head sadly before pausing, looking up at her once more. “Legolas asked me to tell you to be safe, to remember the promise under a veiled star filled sky and he will return to you.”
“Thank you Bard, now hurry.” Bella replied, her face softening at the thought of her Chosen, of his lips upon hers as they whispered their promise and love. Bard nodded and mounted his horse once more, not daring to ask what the promise was before making his way back towards Dale with a heavy heart.
“He will give us nothing.” Bard sighed as he came to a stop in front of the Elven-King
Thranduil hummed as if bored. “Such a pity. Still, you tried.”
“I…I do not understand. Why? Why would he risk war?” He asked the king before casting a look back at the Mountain gate in time to see the dwarves dislodge the head of one of the massive stone statues that stood on either side. “Not even Lady Canadriel could dislodge the madness.”
“It is fruitless to reason with them; they understand only one thing.” Thranduil replied sounding bored but he was anything but. Inside he was at war within himself, his light trying to fight off the darkness that seeped into his very being when the Greenwood began to grow sick.
Fear and hate clashed like a rolling thunderstorm, one never winning for too long. He was fearful of his friend, of his sons Chosen, being in the halls with a gold sick king with a hate for their kind. A hate that he had spurned onwards when he denied them aid that day, something he was now regretting for it would be his son who would have to face the wrath against the Dwarrow that claim her kin.
Hate because of their greed, it was their greed which drew the dragon in and desolated the town and kingdom, for denying him his gems. With another bland look he drew out his sword, his voice loud over the wind. “We attack at dawn! Are you with us?”
Author Note: Had to change it up a bit! Thrand is kinda nice dick lol