Chapter 17: Whispers of War

Tarnes found that he did not mind the journey back, despite the monotony of the rolling green plains. Dwalin and the other Dwarves were relentlessly cheerful, their spirits high. At every rest stop, they would weave simple, catchy folk songs from the events of their journey, their voices a hearty chorus under the open sky. They even used their eating spoons and plates as impromptu percussion instruments, tapping out surprisingly harmonious rhythms.

The brothers, Fíli and Kíli, were especially lively company. It was clearly their first time traveling so far from the Blue Mountains, and they were full of a boundless curiosity. They peppered Tarnes with questions about his life, his armor, his spectral steed—everything. In turn, Tarnes shared tales of his travels through the Lands Between.

Soon, Dwalin, who at first only listened in from the edge of the conversation, began to join them. It quickly became a daily ritual. Every time they stopped for a meal, the Dwarves would gather around, their mugs filled with ale, eagerly awaiting another story from the armored wizard. Even the cook, busy at the fire, would work with his ears perked, listening intently.

Tarnes noticed that the young Dwarf brothers were particularly fond of stories of heroes, and they were often deeply moved by the tales. So he told them of the friends and foes he had met, weaving a tapestry of legends.

Fíli, the elder, was captivated by the tale of Morgott, the Omen King, the lonely, tragic guardian of the Erdtree. But Kíli, the younger, his heart full of a warrior's fire, was enthralled by the story of Iron Fist Alexander, the living jar who relentlessly sought worthy opponents, shattering and reforging himself in the crucible of battle to grow ever stronger. Tarnes supposed their preferences reflected their different personalities.

He had learned from Dwalin that Fíli was being groomed by Thorin as the royal heir, and it showed. The elder brother was more restrained than Kíli, his words and actions more measured. Kíli, on the other hand, was an open book. His joy was loud, his sadness was a quiet, sincere shedding of tears, and the thrill of an exciting story made him practically vibrate with emotion. Tarnes could see that Thorin wanted his younger nephew to grow up free, unburdened by the weight of a crown.

Amidst the comforting aroma of cooking food, the hearty folk songs of the Dwarves, and Tarnes's own epic tales, the convoy arrived safely at the ruins where the Erdtree stood. A special thanks, Tarnes thought with a wry smile, was owed to the Orcs, who had not once disturbed their journey.

"We're almost there, everyone!" Tarnes called out over his shoulder, his voice enthusiastic as he addressed the travel-weary Dwarves behind him. He dismounted, patted Torrent's neck affectionately, then recalled him with a soft note from the Spirit Steed Whistle.

Dwalin barked a few words in concise Dwarvish, and the convoy slowed but did not stop.

Kíli was the first to ride up beside Tarnes, but his eyes fell on the sprawling, time-worn ruins, and his face fell. "Mr. Tarnes," he asked, his voice full of a blunt, youthful honesty, "is your homeland… just these stones?"

Dwalin coughed, a sharp, warning sound.

Slap.

Fíli, arriving a moment later, had heard his brother's reckless question. He reached out and smacked Kíli on the back of the head. He shot Tarnes an apologetic look, then gestured to the ruins, now overgrown with trees and grass. "Where should we park the carriages, Mr. Tarnes?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"Just follow the road. You'll see where to go soon enough," Tarnes said gently. He looked at Kíli, whose face was a mask of flustered worry. "These are just the remnants of the people who lived here before, Kíli. They have nothing to do with my homeland. I am not offended." Kíli let out a visible sigh of relief.

Dwalin nodded, signaling to the other drivers. The wooden wheels of the carriages rolled over the high grass, leaving deep ruts in the earth as they followed Tarnes into the ruins.

Soon, there was no need for guidance.

They all saw it. Towering over the crumbling stone, its leaves a brilliant, impossible gold, was the Erdtree. It cast a warm, welcoming light that seemed to dye the surrounding forest in its own color.

"Is that… gold?" Kíli was the first to exclaim, a Dwarf's innate love for precious things drawing his eyes to the shimmering sight.

Fíli squinted, his gaze sharp. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Not gold. Just leaves that have turned golden."

A faint smile touched Tarnes's lips. He, too, felt a surge of happiness. In the ten days he had been gone, the Erdtree had grown three or four meters taller. As if sensing his return, it pulsed with an even brighter light, its branches swaying in a windless welcome.

From a watchtower in the newly formed outpost, two of Godrick's soldiers, crossbows in hand, saw the tree's unusual activity. They scanned the horizon and spotted the approaching convoy, recognizing Tarnes in his distinctive white wolf armor at its head. Their spirits lifted. One soldier remained at his post while the other scrambled down the ladder to report to his superiors.

"Tarnes is back? With a convoy of supplies?" Nepheli Loux, glistening with sweat from a vigorous set of push-ups, her wheat-colored abs defined and powerful, heard the Godrick Knight's report. Her crimson eyes lit up. She sprang to her feet, grabbed her battle-axe from where it leaned against a stone, and followed the knight out to greet them.

As the Dwarves drew closer, their own heartbeats quickened. They stared, mesmerized, at the tree that seemed to belong only in legend. Its trunk shimmered with a dazzling luster, and its canopy of golden-yellow leaves rustled in the wind, a shimmering ocean of light.

Dwalin cautiously stepped onto the ground, which was carpeted in golden grass, marveling at the splendor. Kíli, ever curious, squatted down and touched a blade of grass. It was soft and yielding, just as a plant should be. He plucked one and held it up to his eyes. It glowed with a serene, gentle beauty in the sunlight, not the hard glare of metal.

Seeing his brother's fascination, Fíli too gave in to his curiosity and plucked a leaf from a low-hanging branch. Soon, the other Dwarves were doing the same, their bearded faces alight with excited smiles. They were not made of gold, but the leaves and grass were beautiful souvenirs nonetheless.

Tarnes watched them, amused. He wanted to tell them that ten days ago, this was all just common weeds and green leaves, but he didn't have the heart to burst their bubble. He would give them some truly meaningful trinkets before they left.

He surveyed his surroundings. The nearby stone houses had been cleared of their overgrowth, making the outpost look far more like a place of habitation than the wilderness he had left. A wide path had been cleared for the carriages. Down that path, he saw Nepheli approaching, followed by a contingent of Godrick Knights.

"The breeze on my face tells me the great King has returned to his homeland," Nepheli said, her voice warm as she approached. "Welcome back, Tarnes." She opened her arms and gave him a brief, warm hug, then looked with curiosity at the Dwarves behind him.

The Godrick Knights who had followed her saluted Tarnes, then stood like statues, their greatshields and long spears held at the ready.

Nepheli had never seen Dwarves before, and for a moment, seeing their stout forms, she thought of the malformed, short-statured soldiers of the Lands Between. But she quickly saw her mistake. Tarnes noticed her confusion and whispered, "They are Dwarves. They brought the supplies."

Nepheli nodded and addressed the newcomers. "Thank you for your help. May the wind always bless you. My name is Nepheli Loux, a subordinate of Elden Lord Tarnes. You may call me Nepheli."

At her words, Fíli's head snapped up. His eyes, wide with surprise, shot to Tarnes. "Wait, Mr. Tarnes. She called you 'Elden Lord.' Are you… a King? Then I have not shown you the proper respect…" He thought back to their easy, casual conversations on the road and then to Thorin's stern warnings. A wave of unease washed over him. Dwalin looked equally uncomfortable. Only Kíli seemed unfazed, finding his brother and Dwalin's reactions rather strange.

Tarnes took off his helmet and sighed. "I am a little speechless, Fíli," he said with a smile. "The Fíli I know is not so timid. And is Thorin not your King? Did you see him putting on airs with you? You came to help me. I am the one who should be thanking you."

Kíli nodded in vigorous agreement. Fíli and Dwalin exchanged a look, and seeing Tarnes's easygoing smile, the tension in their faces finally relaxed.

Tarnes turned to the Godrick Knights. "Find three soldiers to help the Dwarves unload the grain and livestock. Among them are experts in husbandry and farming. Give them whatever space they require."

The knight captain struck the butt of his spear on the ground in salute and strode off to carry out the order.

Tarnes then turned back to the Dwarves. "This is no place for idle talk. Come, admire the Erdtree from a closer distance."

"As you wish," Fíli nodded, and the three of them followed Tarnes.

Nepheli fell into step beside him, her voice low. "In the days you were gone, the Orcs launched two more night raids. Their numbers were not as large as the first time. Their bodies were absorbed by the Erdtree."

Tarnes's expression grew serious. "Two more attacks? What were our casualties? Did you leave any alive for questioning?"

Nepheli nodded. "They couldn't even breach the outpost. With their smaller numbers, they were no match for the Godrick Knights, let alone with Rogier and me supporting them." She paused, a note of exasperation in her voice. "We left one alive each time. They both said the same thing: they saw the light from the tree and decided to attack. Honestly, it's the most absurd reason for an attack I've ever heard."

Tarnes's mouth twitched. He remembered Gandalf's assessment of Orcs: they exist to create slaughter.

The conversation was not hushed. Fíli, hearing of the attacks, spoke up. "Mr. Tarnes, may I say something? About Orcs."

"Of course, Fíli," Tarnes said readily. "I know little of them. Any advice is welcome."

"If you have suffered three raids," Fíli said, his voice serious, "the first two might have been accidents. But the third was not. Orcs are not unorganized beasts. If several of their warbands disappear in one place, their commanders will take notice."

Tarnes stopped walking, his expression intent. He half-crouched to meet Fíli's gaze. "Please continue."

Fíli swallowed. "My uncle Thorin told me that some Orcs are cunning. They know tactics. Our people once suffered a great defeat at the hands of a clever Orc commander. I worry that the third attack was a probe, a test of your defenses. Few expect Orcs to use their brains."

Dwalin spoke then, his voice a low grumble. "Fíli is right. There are cunning Orcs among them."

At the Dwarves' words, Nepheli's expression changed. "Now that you mention it," she said, "during the third attack, nine of them seemed desperate to break through, completely ignoring the knights who were intercepting them. I remember it clearly. The survivor we questioned was one of them."

Fíli and Dwalin exchanged a grim look. "Mr. Tarnes," Fíli said, "if that is the case, then during that raid, other Orcs were likely hiding in the shadows, observing. The fourth attack… it will be a general assault. All the Orcs in Minhiriath will participate. There could be hundreds of them."

(End of Chapter)

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