WIP Wednesday

[roselightfairy]

Trying to write Mirkwood during the Ring War is difficult because the information we have is sketchy at best and comes from about seven different sources, and I don't want to research all of it until every detail is exactly correct; I just want to make stuff up! :P

Anyway, if anyone is interested... *flings snippet into the ether*

"None?" Laerwen says, staring at Iruion, who appears to wish he were anywhere but here. As dire as things have become, she did not allow herself to imagine they could be this bad. "Dale can spare no warriors to come to our aid?"

"Neither Dale nor Erebor," repeats Iruion. Laerwen looks straight ahead, pretending she does not see her father's eyes flash in her direction. It was she who instructed the party to inquire at Erebor for support in addition to Dale. In her defense, he did not specifically tell her not to – but that can be dealt with later. "Their people say that there has been suspicious activity from Rhun lately, and they expect soon to be besieged themselves. They send their apologies, but they can spare no numbers from their own defense, lest they be overrun as well."

Thranduil spits a curse, and Iruion jumps in shock. Laerwen cannot help raising her eyebrows as well; long years have passed since she last saw her father's self-control slip so in front of an audience. "As always, we are a useful barrier between the mortals and the darkness, but they can spare no thought for us in their turn." He waves a hand, dismissing Iruion without further words, and the latter turns and runs. A wise decision, Laerwen thinks, as her father turns on her. "You instructed them to send word to Erebor?"

She lifts her chin and stares right back at him. "We needed help."

"And still do, thanks to their refusal!”

She refuses to let him cow her – not now, not in their moment of great need. “Do you expect me to express regret?”

He glares at her, and she glares back. Something inside her thrills at her own defiance, but there is no delight in this – not when her father’s gaze is only a spark compared to the building conflagration that threatens to incinerate them all.

The glare between them holds for two seconds – three – four – and then he yields all at once, sagging and sinking, dropping into this throne like a moth felled from the sky and pressing two fingers to the spot between his eyes. All at once he looks more tired and defeated than she has seen him in a thousand years. “No,” he sighs. “We needed aid, and we still need it. Abandoned on all fronts, with dwindling forces and dwindling hope, and our last green leaf miles away to the south fighting a foe greater even than those that threaten us. Your mother would flay me for it, but I confess I see no way out."

Because I am a Real Fanfic Writer, my solution to everything is: always make their lives harder! :D