The Messenger from Mordor comes to Erebor for the last time
Dain, King under the Mountain came forth to the front gate at the summons of the Messenger from Mordor to give his final answer
There before the gate sat a lone rider upon his dark steed
Dain had long debated his answer to Mordor. Only a month before he had sent his most trusted counsellor Gloin to Rivendell, in search of answers, but the messenger had returned before answers had come from over the mountains.
There had been no word yet from Gloin or his son Gimli. The road to Rivendell was now filled with countless dangers and he knew not if they would return at all. He must make his choice, based upon his own knowledge and the wit he was given.
Dain strode out onto the balcony just above the iron gate. Below him sat the dark messenger from Mordor upon his black horse. The hour was late and it was now full dark under the eves of the Lonely Mountain, but even with the light of a full moon, no trace of any features could been seen under the messenger’s dark cowl. Dain stood his ground and waited for the emissary from Mordor to speak.
The figure, cloaked all in black rode forward a few paces, until his steed was reigned was just beneath the balcony on which the King stood. The clip-clop of the horses hooves echoed with a dark finality off the walls of Erebor.
“Thrice have I come to hear the answer from the King under the Mountain,” said the messenger with a vile hiss. “Twice I have been turned away, but now my Master will have an answer. The Dark Lord has given you time to consider his proposition, but his patience grows thin. What say you King Dain, will you tell of the halfling and offer friendship to Mordor? Sauron the Great offers you gifts greater than all the wealth of Erebor!”
Dain stood silent a long time upon the stone balcony, at the very gate of his kingdom. Before him was but one tiny figure upon a horse, but Dain was no fool. He understood that this one lone messenger represented a threat far greater then even the desolation of Smaug.
The coming of the dragon had been sudden and swift, but the threat of Mordor had grown slowly like an illness upon the land. A shadow of disquiet and a fear of being hemmed into a narrow place, had come upon his people. Promises had been made by this messenger, that the three Dwarven Rings of old would be returned and the kingdom of Khazad-dûm given back to the dwarves forever. In their fear, some of his counselors had advised Dain to tell the messenger all that he wanted to know about the Hobbit. One way or the other, Sauron would surely learn of The Shire and it’s whereabouts. None believed that Sauron would keep his promises, but perhaps the Eye in the Dark Tower would look elsewhere than the Lonely Mountain if they gave him what he sought.
Gloin and many others has stood resolute against this course of action and had bade the King wait until Elrond had been consulted, and at the very least the Hobbits in The Shire warned of their danger. Dain had agreed to this council and had sent Gloin himself to Rivendell in search of answers. But now the messenger of Mordor had returned and this time he would demand and answer.
Whispered council was given to Dain to tell the messenger what they knew, but he could not so easily betray the friendship of Bilbo and all the he had done for the dwarves. The Messenger of Mordor offered nothing but lies and untimely betrayal, so it has always been with the servants of the Enemy. It was time to tell this foul tongue of the Dark Lord, that the Dwarves would never serve under the yoke of Mordor.
“You can tell your master, Sauron the Deceiver that we have nothing to offer him and we will not betray the trust of our real friends. Tell him to send no more messengers to darken our door! We reject your terms utterly. Begone foul slave of Mordor and take your forked tongue with you!”
There was a deep intake of breath, like the hiss of a coiled snake ready to strike. Though the enemies face was hidden in shadow, his eyes glowed red with sudden wrath. He sat up, erect in his saddle and leaned forward toward the king. The dark messenger exuded such a menace that the guards upon the wall loosed their axes and strung their bows. The messenger raised a long pale finger and pointed it at the King. In a hissing, venomous voice, that spat with rage, the messenger of Mordor spoke one last time.
“You dare insult Sauron the Great with your rebellious insolence? Mordor will send no more messengers, of this you can be assured, but when the Eye in the Dark Tower turns to your pitiful little mountain, you will feel the burning wrath of his vengeance! All of the territory from the Lake to the Mountains will soon be under the dominion of Mordor and the desolation of the dragon with be nothing compared to the waste the Dark Lord will make of these lands. He will reach out his hand and take that which has been refused.”
Then the foul servant of Sauron rounded his horse and whipped it into a wild tear into the night. The hooves of the beast pounded out a death knell upon the cobbled stones built into bridge before the gate.
All of the dwarves upon the battlement heaved a sigh as the figure disappeared into the darkness. For the first time in many months Dain, King under the Mountains was able to breath a fitful sigh of relief. Whatever yet may come, he had stood fast beside his friends and had not yet fallen before the threat of Mordor.