Chapter 113: Confrontation

Facing Thranduil's gracious praise, Kael displayed a modest smile tinged with genuine humility. "Your Majesty is far too kind. This restoration wasn't the work of one person alone, but a collective effort." "By the way, where is Prince Legolas? I don't see him among your retinue." At the mention of his most beloved son, Thranduil's expression softened noticeably, warmth flickering in his ancient eyes. "He discovered fresh Orc tracks in our northern borders and chose to pursue them personally." At the mention of Orcs, Gandalf's expression immediately hardened with concern, his weathered brow furrowing deeply. "Does Your Majesty know where these Orcs first appeared?" Thranduil replied with casual indifference, as though discussing the weather. "They emerged in the northern reaches of Mirkwood, apparently advancing from the northern Misty Mountains. Legolas grew concerned about their intentions and decided to track them. He should return within a few days." Apart from matters directly concerning the Woodland Realm's safety, Thranduil remained utterly indifferent to the outside world's troubles. This time he had come solely to retrieve the white gem necklace once commissioned for his beloved late wife. As for any potential war between dwarves and Orcs, when the dragon had originally attacked the Lonely Mountain, he hadn't provided aid then, and this time he similarly had no intention of intervening in foreign conflicts. However, his son Legolas strongly disagreed with this isolationist policy. The young prince possessed a far more compassionate heart than his father. He believed that although the Lonely Mountain dwarves harbored old grievances against the Elves, when great enemies threatened, past grudges needed to be set aside in favor of unity against common foes, rather than passively hiding within Mirkwood's borders. So he had actively chosen to track the Orc forces personally, hoping to discover their stronghold and intentions. Thranduil didn't linger long in Dale's restored streets. After allowing his Elven army to rest briefly and resupply, he prepared to continue toward the Lonely Mountain for his confrontation with Thorin. Seeing this determination, Gandalf made one final attempt at persuasion. "Your Majesty Thranduil, the Orc army could strike at any moment. A conflict between you and Thorin will only provide our enemies with the perfect opportunity to destroy us all." Thranduil raised his hand decisively to halt Gandalf's continued pleading, his voice carrying absolute finality. "This matter is not negotiable. As long as Thorin Oakenshield returns what rightfully belongs to me... my late wife's precious belongings... I will immediately order the army's withdrawal without staying a moment longer." A hint of bitter mockery crossed his elegant features. "But do you honestly believe Thorin Oakenshield will agree? Madness flows like poison through their family's bloodline. I personally witnessed his grandfather's descent into insanity. The current Thorin is likely no different, is he?" The white gem necklace Thranduil sought, though not comparable to the legendary Arkenstone, remained priceless beyond measure. Originally, Thorin's grandfather, Thrór, increasingly influenced by dragon-sickness, had developed obsessive possessiveness after the necklace's completion and refused to return it to Thranduil despite their agreement. This betrayal had created lasting enmity between the Lonely Mountain dwarves and the Elves of the Woodland Realm. It had also directly led to the Woodland Realm's decision to remain coldly neutral when Smaug the dragon attacked the Lonely Mountain. Gandalf thought of Thorin's current mental state, driven completely mad by dragon-sickness, and sighed helplessly. Undoubtedly, given Thorin's current condition, he probably wouldn't willingly share even a single gold coin, let alone return precious jewelry. What gave Gandalf an even greater headache was the realization that Thranduil wasn't the only one making demands on Thorin. Bard was also following the Elvenking to demand compensation from Thorin for Lake-town's devastating losses. As a direct descendant of Girion, Lord of Dale, he possessed legitimate rights to reclaim his ancestral share of the treasure. After all, when Smaug had destroyed Dale in ancient times, the dragon had also seized all of Dale's accumulated wealth and added it to his hoard in the Lonely Mountain. So the treasure currently contained not only the dwarves' wealth but also significant portions of Dale's human heritage. However, Bard desperately wanted to prevent war from erupting between Elves, humans, and dwarves. So he respectfully requested that Thranduil allow him to attempt negotiations with Thorin first. Thranduil held little hope for diplomatic success but didn't refuse Bard's reasonable request. After all, he wasn't pressed for time and could afford patience. However, he still kept his Elven army in full battle readiness, prepared to march directly on the Lonely Mountain and seize the gem necklace by force when Bard's negotiations inevitably failed. Since Bard was determined to attempt diplomacy, Gandalf, feeling deeply uneasy about the situation, chose to accompany him, hoping he might somehow persuade Thorin and thus prevent catastrophic bloodshed. Kael knew the predetermined outcome and chose not to follow this doomed mission. Instead, he withdrew his palantír and first checked on Smaug's current location. He hadn't monitored his draconic servant for several days and wondered where the creature had wandered. In the barren wilderness north of the Lonely Mountain, Smaug had killed a wild bull with a savage bite, then breathed scorching flames to roast the carcass. When the meat reached proper doneness, he began devouring his meal with obvious satisfaction. Dragons possessed enormous appetites. One entire bull represented merely a single meal's worth of sustenance. But they could also endure hunger for extended periods. As long as they entered deep hibernation, they could survive decades without eating or drinking. During these recent days, Smaug hadn't been without thoughts of escape from his magical bondage. But whenever such treacherous ideas formed, the golden-red markings left by the Unbreakable Vow around his neck would spring to malevolent life, becoming tight and burning like molten wire, causing agony that made the mighty dragon wish desperately for death. Under such constant torment whenever he contemplated betrayal, Smaug had completely resigned himself to his fate and no longer dared harbor any thoughts of escape or rebellion. So the dragon could only obediently hunt in the wilderness and wait patiently for Kael's summons. After finishing his roasted bull, Smaug suddenly looked up at the sky with sharp alertness. His keen senses detected someone observing him from a great distance. "Master?" Smaug felt that unknown gaze carried a familiar presence and asked tentatively. The next second, one of the oath markings around his neck tightened slightly, becoming uncomfortably hot. This was one of the binding vows he had sworn: no matter where Smaug might be, if Kael needed him, he must come unconditionally and without hesitation. Confirming that Kael was indeed summoning him, Smaug immediately set off at maximum speed toward the Lonely Mountain. His only regret was that his wing remained unhealed, preventing direct flight to his destination. "Hmph, quick reflexes, I'll give you that." Kael observed the crystal ball showing Smaug moving rapidly across the landscape and snorted with grudging approval. He wasn't fooled by the dragon's obedience. Kael knew exactly how many treacherous thoughts Smaug had entertained during recent days. The creature had even fantasized about escaping far north beyond the Grey Mountains to hide and wait for Kael to die of old age before emerging from concealment. But Smaug didn't realize that every time he harbored such rebellious thoughts, Kael sensed them through their magical connection. For this reason, whenever Smaug was tormented by the oath's punishment for contemplating treachery, Kael would intentionally intensify the suffering, making it even more unbearable. Seeing Smaug obediently returning as commanded, Kael ceased monitoring him and instead checked on the new Orc king, Bolg's current activities. Now that conflict between Elves and dwarves was about to erupt, surely the Orcs wouldn't remain idle. Sure enough, the palantír soon revealed scenes from Mount Gundabad. This massive fortress in the northern Misty Mountains housed vast numbers of Orcs and served as Bolg's primary stronghold. In the current vision, at Bolg's commanding roar, countless trolls, Orcs, and Wargs poured from the fortress like a dark tide. Giant bats filled the sky, blotting out the sun and allowing the light-fearing creatures to remain active during daylight hours. The dense Orc army numbered in the tens of thousands, advancing rapidly toward the Lonely Mountain with obvious hostile intent. "Hmm? I didn't expect he'd actually tracked them this far!" Kael was genuinely surprised to spot Legolas and Tauriel in the vision. The two Elves were hidden behind a large boulder near Mount Gundabad's fortress, secretly observing the Orc army's mobilization. Suddenly Legolas seemed to sense something amiss and immediately looked up with sharp alertness at the sky behind their position. "What's wrong, Legolas?" Tauriel asked with obvious confusion. Legolas shook his head with uncertainty. "I'm not sure. I just felt as though someone was watching us from afar." "Tch, remarkably perceptive!" Kael was somewhat impressed, then withdrew his supernatural gaze and continued checking other developing situations. This time he focused his attention on the area east of the Lonely Mountain. According to his knowledge, a group of dwarves lived in the Iron Hills east of the mountain. Their lord was Dáin II Ironfoot, who happened to be Thorin Oakenshield's cousin. Currently, only thirteen dwarves, including Thorin, occupied the Lonely Mountain. Even with the gates sealed and fortified, they couldn't possibly resist a full Elven army's coordinated assault. So unless Thorin had completely lost his sanity, he would definitely seek military aid from Dáin II. Sure enough, in the eastern wilderness, an army of over ten thousand dwarves was marching steadily toward the mountain. All the major parties for the legendary Battle of Five Armies had finally gathered. Kael ended his observation and carefully put away the crystal ball. He quickly found Beorn and Bilbo in Dale's bustling streets. "We need to reach the front gates of the Lonely Mountain immediately. The Orc army is approaching. We cannot allow the others to begin fighting each other first." Hearing that the Orc army was finally advancing, Beorn's eyes immediately blazed with anticipation and barely contained fury. "Finally! These bastards are coming within reach!" Though Bilbo felt somewhat nervous about the approaching battle, he wasn't truly afraid. Instead, he gripped his Elven short sword tightly, drawing comfort from its familiar weight. Kael handed his flying broomstick to Beorn with complete trust. "Take Bilbo and follow behind me. I'll go ahead to try stopping the others from making a terrible mistake." With that decisive statement, he performed his Animagus transformation, shifting into his great horned owl form, and soared toward the Lonely Mountain's main gates with powerful wingbeats. Beorn had ridden the flying broomstick several days earlier, so Kael felt no concern about potential accidents. At this tense moment, the atmosphere before the Lonely Mountain's sealed gates crackled with barely contained hostility. Thorin had, as predicted, firmly refused both Thranduil's demand for the white gem necklace and Bard's reasonable request to share the treasure as compensation. Even though Gandalf had earnestly attempted to persuade both sides toward compromise, neither party had accepted his well-intentioned mediation. "Thorin, lay down your weapons! Open these gates! That cursed treasure will be the death of you and all your companions!" Gandalf called desperately from below. "You cannot possibly win this battle. Don't condemn your loyal friends to needless death." Thorin's eyes flickered with momentary uncertainty, but his resolve remained unshaken by madness and obsession. "That's enough, Gandalf. Keep your honeyed words to yourself. No amount of talking will wake those who choose to close their eyes to our plight." Thranduil, resplendent in full ceremonial armor and mounted regally upon his great elk, advanced to the front lines, his tone dripping with cold mockery. Then his piercing gaze lifted to regard Thorin standing defiantly on the wall above. "Now the time has come for your final answer, Thorin Oakenshield. Do you choose peace and reason, or do you choose war and destruction?" Surveying the tens of thousands of disciplined Elven troops arrayed before him, Thorin clearly lacked confidence in his position. He paced anxiously along the battlements, his desperate gaze repeatedly turning toward the distant eastern peaks as though waiting for salvation. Finally, a raven appeared on the stone parapet beside him. Thorin's face immediately lit up with triumphant delight, his confidence instantly restored by this expected sign. Without the slightest hesitation, he answered Thranduil's ultimatum with defiant pride. "I choose war!" Thranduil was visibly startled by Thorin's sudden transformation from uncertainty to brazen confidence. He immediately looked eastward toward the mountains with growing understanding and concern. Dense dwarven armies were appearing along the eastern peaks like storm clouds gathering. "Alert positions! Prepare for battle!" Thranduil commanded with sharp authority. The Elven army smoothly wheeled their formation, redirecting their gleaming spear points toward the more immediately threatening dwarven force advancing from the hills. The dwarven army marched in heavy formation toward the valley, their armored boots creating a thunderous rhythm against the stone. They halted within a thousand meters of the Elven battle line, close enough for individual warriors to see their enemies' faces. Dáin II Ironfoot, the formidable Lord of the Iron Hills, rode forward on his massive war boar while wielding an iron war hammer that gleamed menacingly in the sunlight. "Good morning, everyone! How are you all faring on this lovely day? I have a small suggestion, if you wouldn't mind, and if I could perhaps take up just a moment of your valuable time." His voice carried across the battlefield with deceptive pleasantness before his tone suddenly shifted to thunderous hostility. "Would you all consider getting as far away from here as possible?!" [Chapter Complete] *** Want more? Check out my Patreon for: ✓ Advanced chapters of all my stories ✓ Exclusive novels & fanfics ✓ Early access content [email protected]/meowthtl ???? Community Goal: 500 Power Stones unlocks a bonus chapter! Thanks for reading and supporting the story!