By Dawn's Early Light by Grundy

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Preparing To March

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Buffy remained determinedly in place, not shifting from foot to foot, as impassive as she’d seen the twins during a similar- thought somewhat less angry- dressing down from the King of the Woodland Realm. Her brothers were a steady, buoying presence at her back, and so far, staying out of it like she’d asked.

The children of Elrond had held a hurried strategy session when the summons to appear before Thranduil had been brought by a disapproving Galion. To be fair, the steward had good reason to be irritated with her. It would take him years to live down the ribbing at not being able to hold his wine, and he wasn’t about to compound his embarrassment by admitting that Elrond’s daughter- who despite being ruled an adult, was still looked on by most as a mere child- had drugged his cup without him noticing.

They had known what it would be about- Buffy’s role in the dwarves’ escape- even without Galion telling them. The couriers who had returned from Laketown had told a most interesting tale of Master Bilbo Baggins the halfling, who claimed that it was by following a beautiful elf-maiden that he had found the means to escape the elf-king’s halls.

She totally got why Bilbo said it- the elves in question had tried to protest the dwarves were their king’s prisoners, and she was guessing that would be pretty obnoxious to Bilbo and his friends, so wanting to gloat a little was understandable- but she couldn’t help wishing he’d had the sense to leave her out of it. To those who didn’t know the maiden and halls in question, it probably sounded like she’d led him to the wine cellar by chance all unaware. To Thranduil and Galion, it was clear that there had been mischief on her part.

The only puzzle had been why Thranduil was bringing it up a second time. He’d already scolded her once.

“You guys can’t jump in,” Buffy told Elrohir and Elladan. “If you do, that just makes me look like an elfling in need of help. I’m a big elleth, I got myself into trouble, I can get myself out.”

Her brother’s matching raised eyebrows doubted that, but since their well-intentioned defense of her behavior hadn’t helped in her last telling-off, they held their peace.

“You were aware that there was an intruder wandering these halls, Anariel. He was here for weeks- yet you said nothing,” Thranduil said angrily.

Buffy rolled her eyes. They’d been through this before.

“Yeah, you could call Bilbo an intruder if you want,” she fired back. “But he’s about three feet tall, you seriously think he’s going to take over the place? I’d have said something if he had been a threat! But all he wanted to do was free his friends.”

She knew she’d walked right into whatever trap the king had laid for her as soon as she said it. She fought the urge to curse- even if Thranduil wouldn’t understand the words Spike had taught her, he’d certainly pick up on the intent.

“He did. Would you like to know what has become of your Halfling and his friends since you helped free them?” Thranduil asked sternly.

Buffy was fairly sure from his attitude that she didn’t want to know, but she was stuck for it.

“They reached Laketown, where the men of the lake were foolish enough to resupply the dwarves. They pressed on to Erebor, where they must have known some secret way into the halls of Thrain, for they did not make for the Gate. They succeeded in waking the dragon- he was seen firing the mountain several nights in a row.”

“Guess that ‘deal with the dragon’ plan still had some kinks in it,” Buffy muttered.

Thranduil’s sharp ears caught her comment.

“So it would seem. No one has seen or heard anything of the dwarves or their Halfling since they entered the mountain. They are almost certainly dead. But that is not the worst of it. Roused by the intrusion, Smaug descended on Laketown in a fury.”

Buffy felt the blood draining from her face. Laketown, she knew, was composed largely of wooden buildings, built on stilts in Long Lake. The water offered some protection against the dragon, but she couldn’t imagine it would be enough.

“Laketown was destroyed?” she asked, hoping her voice remained even.

“Completely,” Thranduil confirmed. “Though they were lucky- a man of the town called Bard, of the line of Girion of Dale, killed the dragon. With the dragon dead, the largest part of the Lakemen survived.”

Buffy breathed easier at that. She knew Laketown was nowhere near as big as the cities she had known in California, but it was large by the standards of this region, so to have its population mostly if not entirely wiped out would have been a disaster.

“My scouts report the survivors are even now huddled on the shores of the Lake, facing hunger and cold. We march to their aid at first light.”

Thranduil paused.

“As you had a hand in this, Anariel, I think it fitting that you march with us. You will see with your own eyes the consequences of your thoughtless actions.”

That provoked her brothers to finally intervene.

“The fate of Laketown was not her doing!” Elladan protested indignantly. “Or do you claim she should have foreseen such an end?”

“We were sent to you to keep our small sister from attempting to march with an elven host,” Elrohir pointed out coldly, sounding so much like Adar when he was displeased that Buffy glanced behind her to make sure it was her brother speaking and not their father.

“Lorien marched to battle,” Thranduil replied. “Ours is an errand of mercy- to bring supplies desperately needed by the men of the Lake if they are to survive the coming winter. Moreover, our presence will deter those who would move against them in their misfortune. Any who might find the Lake-men in their wretchedness a tempting target will think twice with an army of wood-elves at their side.”

“If Anariel marches, so do we,” Elladan said flatly, in a tone that brooked no contradiction. “Our parents and grandparents charged us with her safety.”

“As to her safety,” Thranduil retorted, “what harm do you think likely to befall her under my protection, surrounded by the best warriors in my realm? But as you will. Make ready your packs and armor.”

“Armor?” Buffy asked, suddenly worried. “I thought you said we weren’t marching to battle.”

For the first time, Thranduil looked indulgent as he answered.

“You are still young, Anariel. You will discover that being prepared tends to prevent trouble- and even battle- from happening.”

“I don’t have armor,” Buffy pointed out, not adding that it was unlikely they had a spare set sitting around that would fit her, tiny as she was by elven standards.

“Galion informed the armory to begin preparing armor to fit you as soon as your role in the dwarves’ escape became clear,” Thranduil replied.

“You knew that quick that we’d be doing this?” Buffy demanded.

“Knew that Laketown would be destroyed? No.” Thranduil shook his head. “But I did know that your halfling and his friends would not come to any good end provoking a dragon.”