After arranging the elf squad Tauriel brought, Legolas fell in a step behind Bernahl and Bilbo, resolved and silent.
"Are you mad? I cannot imagine how heartbroken Lord Thranduil will be," Tauriel stared, dumbfounded at Legolas' willfulness.
Legolas' tone only grew cooler. "Heartbroken. He will not be. He does not care about his son. He cares how much wine he will drink at tonight's feast, how much meat he will eat, and whether the harps are off-key."
Tauriel drew a breath to retort, but Bernahl cut in. "Pardon the interruption. I see Tarnes and the others coming. Best not to quarrel in front of him. Tarnes is my king in name. Guests should show some respect."
Legolas gave a brief nod and glanced at Tauriel as if to ask whether the Woodland Prince would truly lose his manners before a human lord. Tauriel sighed, turned away, and let it drop.
Tarnes, with Thorin and Gandalf, spotted them at Mirkwood's edge. He urged Torrent forward, dismounted, and bent to Bilbo at once.
"Are you hurt? What is with these webs? Any poison?" Tarnes asked, voice tight.
Thorin's gaze mirrored that strain, though he said nothing.
Bilbo remembered the foolish thought he had nursed that morning, that Tarnes and Thorin did not care. Guilt rose like heat.
"I am fine. Thank you. And you, Gandalf, and Thorin. I…" He faltered, a dozen apologies catching on his tongue.
Bernahl confirmed the Crimson Tear had been administered. Tarnes' shoulders eased. He pulled Bilbo into a brief, relieved hug. "If you are all right, that is what matters."
Gandalf stepped up, a smile in his eyes. He winked at Bilbo. "Seems our hobbit now knows someone was truly worrying for him."
He had seen Bilbo's boredom these past days. When the hobbit vanished, regret had gnawed him. If only he had spoken a little longer that morning.
Thorin caught the hint. "Once we are back, Bofur and Bombur will stay with you until we march into the Lonely Mountain together and watch Durin's banner fly over its hewn walls."
Bilbo, realizing how childish he had been, ducked his head and offered a proper apology. "I am sorry for worrying you. I promise there will not be a third time."
Thorin blinked. He looked between Tarnes and Gandalf, startled. "Wait. This was not his first time sneaking off."
Tarnes and Gandalf traded a look. Tarnes shrugged. Gandalf smiled into his beard.
"A small secret between Bilbo, Gandalf, and me," Tarnes said. "He deserves a little privacy."
Thorin sighed, then fixed a cool stare on Legolas and Tauriel behind Bernahl. "And what of these two elves? Do not tell me they abducted our burglar."
Legolas almost let the sneer out, then recalled his words to Tauriel and saw Tarnes watching. He chose a smile instead. "Tauriel and I are here for friendship between the Woodland Realm and the Golden Tree. A friend of the Golden Tree's lord was in danger. Elves will not stand by."
"We meet again, Legolas," Tarnes said evenly. "Looks like you both have things to say. This is not the place. Let us return to Lake-town."
They rode back without delay.
Bernahl resumed patrolling and relieved Igon on the bell tower.
Gandalf chose to hear Legolas and Tauriel's report first, then take Bilbo to Dale.
In a stone house where the hearth threw steady heat, Tauriel repeated to Tarnes what she had told Bernahl among the trees.
"Spiders," Tarnes mused. "Few in number. Yet lurking at night could trouble the Storm Legion."
Tauriel traced the table's grain with a fingertip and nodded. "They may enter through large chimneys, and even through privies. Lake-town stands on water, and your toilets fall straight to the lake. Such foul creatures slip up quietly. Lord Tarnes, warn your soldiers and your townsfolk."
Tarnes cleared his throat. "A detail you may not know. Bard, Lake-town's current leader, has already led the townspeople to settle in Dale. Perhaps now you should call him Lord of Dale Borough."
Legolas tilted his head. "No wonder we saw only soldiers when we entered Lake-town."
By the hearth, Thorin gave a cold chuckle. "So you had no idea what happened on your doorstep these past days."
"What do you mean?" Legolas said. "That you locked an Orc horde in Lake-town and lit it, then barred the gate. Or that you wiped out Ravenhill and Dale's Goblins yesterday."
Thorin sat upright, frost in his voice. "You sent no one. How would you know?"
Legolas' look turned cutting. "Elves do not rely on men alone to speak. Birds and beasts are our friends. Perhaps you are too short to notice the ravens winging from Ravenhill to the Wood."
Thorin paused. "Thanks for the compliment. My eyes were on my enemies and how to split their skulls."
Wait... When did I compliment him, Legolas thought.
Is he sincerely praising my shortness? Thorin wondered.
Tarnes coughed lightly and slid between princes with a practiced ease. "Legolas. Are you here because King Thranduil extended a hand?"
Tauriel looked aside. A flicker of embarrassment crossed Legolas' face. "Yes. You gifted King Thranduil, and when we found these signs, he sent me."
Bilbo half opened his mouth, remembering the quarrel in the Wood, but one cool look from Legolas sealed it.
Bernahl, who had heard that exchange in the forest, was already back on his rounds.
Tarnes sensed the half-truth and let it go. "Understood. When you return, carry my thanks to King Thranduil."
Legolas inclined his head, eager to end the talk. "I will go familiarize myself with Lake-town," he said, and left with Tauriel.
When they were gone, Gandalf tapped ash from his pipe, blew a ring, and shaped it into a tiny forest crown above the table. "Thranduil might send aid, but sending Legolas is unlikely. He dotes on his only son and would give him everything. For now, Legolas does not see it."
"I do not need the reminder," Tarnes said softly. "I can tell he is lying. Last time I met him and Thranduil, it was clear he does not much like his father. Even so, he is the Woodland King's heir. If anything happens to him here, it could sour what we are building."
"What will you do?" Gandalf asked.
"Write Thranduil," Tarnes said, unrolling parchment. "I will phrase it so the Woodland elves help keep an eye on our backs."
Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "If you want Thranduil's full attention, add this. Prince Legolas' safety shall be fully overseen by Lady Tauriel. Fathers are sensitive about their sons' lady friends, even elves."
Tarnes rolled his eyes but wrote it down.
Elsewhere, Azog returned to the Lonely Mountain and stalked the vast halls the Dwarves had carved, grinning to the din of snarling Orcs.
The once-proud ways had been turned into a stinking fortress. Every stone reeked.
He passed through a gate that rose like a cliff. Noise died.
Beyond lay what had once been the treasure vault: mountains of gold and carpets of gems. Now it was Smaug's lair.
A coin chimed across the floor. Azog smoothed his face and paused at the last step.
"Master, the dragon has slept these days. His snores shake the stone," a burly Orc rumbled from the shadow.
Azog nodded. "I know."
He stepped onto the coins. Smaug's eyelids snapped open.
At the sight of Azog, the dragon's gaze turned haughty, burning with lazy scorn.
"Look who slinks in," Smaug purred. "A little fool who thinks the Dwarves dance in his snares and does not know his webs are empty."
Azog froze. "What?!"
"Oh, you exceeded my expectations," the dragon went on with velvet malice. "Your dung-grubbing whelps did not even disturb teatime. Think taming trolls means taming mountains. Bolg's shattered bones laugh on Lake-town's bed."
Azog spun and bolted from the lair. Scouts sprinted toward Lake-town, Ravenhill, and Dale, while Smaug's laughter rolled like an avalanche.
Not one scout returned.
Rage etched the truth on his face. Bolg and the duped Goblins had been slaughtered by Men and Dwarves.
"Fools!" Azog snarled.
Whether he meant his son, his rabble, or himself, the mountain swallowed the word.
"We cannot let Thrain's army join those at Dale. The Dwarves must be annihilated. Let the sons of Durin paint the Mountain with their blood."
Orc war drums rumbled, dull and angry, spreading like plague through the Lonely Mountain.
In deep fissures, several were-worms lifted pale heads. Mandibles tore rock. Each heave set a tiny quake through the mountain's heart.
Under Azog's lash, they gnawed a corridor from the Misty Mountains' road to the Lonely Mountain, an attack tunnel for the Orc host.
"Not only Thrain's army. Ravenhill too. Ravenhill must be mine, or it will be ruined."
The drums changed their beat. Two were-worms turned and burrowed toward Ravenhill.
On the hastily built watchpost, Ogha knelt with his palm flat to cold stone. The tremor under his fingers was faint and regular, like a great beast grinding its teeth in the mountain's gut.
The Lonely Mountain's mutter could not hide from Ogha, holding Ravenhill with a hundred Redmanes under General Radahn's orders.
Azog's scouts had already fallen to Ogha's arrows. Feeling the subtle quake, he stared at the seemingly placid mountain with grim calm.
He spoke without haste. "Light the beacons. Tell the General. The war has begun."