Tidings and Tales

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The sun outside the main hall was setting, but inside the roaring fire pit cast golden shadows across the faces of the Dunedain. The evening meal since finished, the time for flagons of mead and ale to be passed around was greeted with a relaxed, well-fed atmosphere. All around men and women alike sat on carven benches with their drinks in hand, and the earthy scent of smoke from pipes began to seep through the air.

It was not a scent that Legolas was well-accustomed to, nor particularly fond of. Fighting the urge to cough, the Sindarin prince decided that he had waited long enough to approach Strider. Politely refusing an offered flagon of what looked like mead, he walked carefully around and between the humans either seated or standing talking in groups.

Strider was standing leaning against one of the large wooden pillars that supported an upper level to the hall. His keen eyes marked the elf's approach even from across the room, and by the time Legolas was within speaking distance he was already excusing himself from the small cluster of rangers nearby.

"I trust you are settled in and have eaten and drunk your fill?" The young man asked with the amiable inquisitiveness of a good host.

Legolas inclined his chin in confirmation. "Yes, and I thank you for both the quarters and the excellent dinner."

Waving a hand toward one of the empty benches, Strider indicated that they should be seated. Pleasantries exchanged, it seemed they both had a fair few questions for one another.

"Having come from the Greenwood, you must have news of recent happenings in the East." Strider spoke conversationally, but was clearly probing with his measured words. "Word has reached us of a great battle; a battle involving five armies?" Those clear blue eyes seemed to regard Legolas with knowledge that by rights the elf knew he couldn't possibly possess. It felt like he was an open book being perused with ease, a situation completely the opposite of the norm. Usually Legolas liked to keep his emotions played close to the chest, and was notorious even among his own people for being hard to read.

Knowing that every word he spoke would carry more weight than even he intended it to, Legolas chose his answer carefully. It would be all too easy to betray his own secrets with the wrong snippets of information given.

"The Battle of the Five Armies, as it is already being called." He confirmed. "Thorin Oakenshield, grandson of King Thror sought to re-take Erebor, and in doing so roused the dragon Smaug from his slumber. Our people left our forest halls and ventured forth in strength of arms at the command of the king, seeking to settle an old debt owed from the hoard beneath the mountain..."

It was a long story, told from when first the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had set out for the Lonely Mountain. Legolas recounted it to Strider with as much detail as he figured the ranger ought to know. By the time he finished his tale, concluding with the defeat of Azog and the crowing of Dain Ironfoot, Strider was sitting thoughtfully with his flagon balanced on a knee.

"These are tidings of great fate and change, and I thank you for having brought them, Legolas." Strider straightened on the bench and gave a strange half-smile. "It is not often that we receive word from as far east as the lands beneath the Lonely Mountain. It was only just a few weeks ago that the ravens flew overhead calling out the news that the dragon was dead, and the winds of war blew soon afterwards. "

"And have you felt the effects of The Battle of Five Armies this far northwest?"

Now Strider smiled in earnest. "More than one would think, my good elf. Perhaps news of their master's defeat has frightened the creatures of darkness even here in Fornost, for it has been some time since last a scouting party was spotted by our rangers."

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