Honour For Bastards

Chapter 26 - Desperation and Vulnerability

Bard immediately prepared himself to leave, he saddled a horse and cantered over the bridged and towards the mountain. Laire watched him leave for a few moments as she tried to dismiss the nagging in her head that said that it would be a wasted journey. Deciding that standing and watching Bard disappear would do little to help any situation she found herself in, Laire turned and walked back into the city ruins. Thranduil and his Elven army had taken up what seemed like a permanent residency in Dale, already their tents and weaponry were set up amongst the various courtyards. 

Laire pursed her lips as her gaze fell upon the larger of the tents, clearly belonging to the King of arrogance himself. Thranduil had his mind set, no matter what Bard came back with he would find a reason to march his army to Thorin's doorstep. The Ranger contemplated the probability of having her head removed from her shoulders should she choose to walk into the tent. She decided that Thranduil was smart enough to determine that Bard cared about Laire and would certainly not take kindly to him killing her, and nor would the people of Laketown. Even though the Mirkwood King had no real need of the people of Laketown, their favour would have its advantages.

Laire braced herself for what would come and strode with purpose to the tent entrance. The guards eyed her curiously and cautiously as she approached, one disappeared inside for a few moments and when he returned they tentatively stepped aside to allow the Ranger entrance. Inside the tent was a tad to ornately decorated for a temporary arrangement, but that was Thranduil. Speaking of the Elven King, he was lounged in a wooden chair which served as a substitute throne. Upon spotting the red-head woman enter, he raised a curious and judgmental brow which was lost amongst the slight anger in his eyes. He thought her either incredibly bold, or incredibly desperate to stand alone before him, given their history. But judging by the way she swaggered over to a chair and settled herself down as though it was her own, perhaps it was a bit of both.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air for the few seconds before Laire opened her mouth. "This must be killin' ye, just a little." Laire made a gesture with her finger and thumb of a small distance. "To know that no matter how much joy it would bring you to end me right now, I mean especially after I was locked in one of yer cells and managed to slip through your fingers yet again."

Thranduil said nothing but glared harder at the redhead, he would not give her the satisfaction of succumbing to her baiting. Instead, he rose from his chair and poured himself a cup of wine. "Tell me something, Laire," He practically spat her name, "why are you here and not with your Dwarvish companions?"

"I'm here because these people need all the aid they can get, because they have suffered the consequences of decisions that I supported. And I cannae help but feel responsible for their pain. So I will do everything I can to make it right, and to prevent further bloodshed at the hands of greed driven Kings."    

"You would come here to sway me to relinquish my army, should Bard fail to reason with Thorin? You must be desperate." Thranduil observed.

"Thorin is beyond reason, his mind has been twisted and poisoned by the gold in that mountain and he would sooner risk the deaths of everyone here than part with any of it. So yes, I am desperate, desperate enough that I would beg you to listen where Thorin has failed. If you ride to his gate askin' for war, he will not disappoint." Laire had shifted forward, her body was as serious and rigid as the words she spoke. "Neither of ye understand the deeper consequences of what reclaiming that mountain has set in motion; what will eventually come. Instead you devote yourselves to this pathetic and greed driven feud which will be the doom of all of us!" 

Thranduil rolled his eyes, "These consequences, what might they be? Or perhaps this is but a ruse to sew seeds of doubt, so that I might relent and withdraw, and you may guarantee the safety of your Dwarf friends?"

Laire pushed to her feet, too anxious and restless to sit anymore, "This is no ruse! Azog the Defiler has sworn to wipe out the Durin line, he will not let the mountain stand in his way I am certain of that. He will gather an army if he must if that is what it takes, and we will be defenseless because we are to busy fightin' each other!" When Laire's last words faded into the thick air her chest was heaving and her muscles tensed.

"If the Pale Orc should some how raise an army against the Dwarves, then that is their battle to fight." Thranduil turned away in his chair, Laire's warning had been like a gentle breeze against stone.

"I have faced some true cruelty in my life Thranduil, but ye are as heartless as they come." Laire was venomous, "Yer black and empty heart will drive the few ye care about away, it has already driven Legolas away."

Thranduil snapped his head back to Laire with a poisonous glare. "What do you know of my son?!"

Laire scoffed, "Ye think I couldna see? The look in his eyes when he stares at that Silvan girl? A blind man could see it, but I know ye well enough that ye would never let Legolas be with a lowborn like her no matter what his heart wants. Ye value yer pride over yer own son's heart, and ye will lose him because of it!" 

Thranduil forced himself to his feet and stalked towards the Ranger who stood firm, "You dare speak to me like that?"

"If only to save ye the pain of losing yer son as well! Ye and I both know the pain of losing those we love most, death is final that we know. But to lose someone by pushing them away, is far worse, to be abandon and unwanted by those who are meant to love ye most is unbearable I assure ye that."

A tense silence filled the air as Thranduil and Laire stared each other down. It had become clear to the Elven King that her words were not just about him and Legolas, but a pain from deep within her own heart. 

"What did you lose, Ranger?" Thranduil asked, his curiousity genuine.

Laire's posture weakened, and she returned to her chair once more, as did Thranduil. "Legolas never told ye, did he?"

"He spoke very little of you once you left."

"My... mother, she was a Dwarvish Princess to a Kingdom I dinnae know. I was her bastard child and her father was disgraced and ashamed of me. The pregnancy had been kept secret so the King gave her a choice when I was born; keep me and give up her titles and move to the country where she and I could live in peace and be provided for, or give me up and keep her position and dowry. She gave me up. My own mother, the one who is supposed to love and cherish me with all her heart, abandoned me to the coldness of the world all for royalty." Laire's voice drifted to barely a whisper as she stared into the floor. It was not until a goblet of wine appeared in her vision that she lifted her head.

The sight was a shock to say the least, here stood Thranduil, a person who despised her very existence, offered her a drink for comfort. Laire took a slow sip and held the cup loosely in her hand. "People say ye cannae miss what ye never had, I can personally vouch otherwise. I spent all my life wonderin' why I wasna good enough for her?" The next drink was longer, "A pain like that eats away at ye, because you spend everyday knowin' that person is livin' content without ye."

A sullen silence over took them as each contemplate the words spoken in these last minutes. These two enemies, sat in truce while the awaited the news that would decide the fates of many. And in that time, Laire had revealed her greatest insecurities; her vulnerability, all for the sake of sparing another from the vice she bore. 

Their silence was interrupted by an Elven soldier who stepped into the tent and bowed. "My Lord, the Bowman is returning."