Fili could not answer the king’s question (or perhaps he didn’t want to answer). There could be no amount of certainty in the talents of the company or the burglar — who was, unhelpfully, still missing since the incident with the spiders. Trust and faith were his whole grasp on certainty and as close as he could come. While it may have been enough for the dwarves, he wasn’t sure he could ask the same of the elves. And so, he kept silent, for he doubted his word that his trust in the best outcome was sincere would be adequate.
Oh, but he knew precisely what would happen; it was the same thing that would happen to him, his kin, and those he cared for. The ‘coercion’, it was called, as if it were nothing more than a fool’s hope. Still — it had been said before and it was not the first time Fili had heard such doubts over the quest. He had heard the doubts and the tales that went with them time upon time again, murmured as bad memories and dark times often were.
” We would not have come so far if we didn’t
believe it was possible. You speak of the
worst, but what if anything but that happens ? “
He stopped, taking another slow and steady breath. Truly, it was not yet his place to bargain with kings or leaders. It should have been Thorin here instead of him, and it was his uncle’s lack of presence that made Fili pause. Still, there were necessities at hand here — release and, more importantly, time.
" There was once peace between our
peoples. Not I nor anyone amongst our
people can promise you riches we do not
have, but Erebor is strong and its future people
loyal beyond all measure. There is value in that
mountain. It could once again be a great kingdom.”
;; ————- a surge of admiration passed through him, a surge of admiration for this one dwarf's tenacity. Albeit his qualms and arguments about and against the mission, the Elveking felt somehow awed by the blind faith and the resolute conviction this Filli had - a fool, that he was and less than sane were his kin for wanting the reclaim Erebor despite the threat of death embodied and made live by the monstrous drake under their precious mountain.
A sigh tore through his throat as he shook his head, his silver-blond hair flowing with the motion like the pouring of fine champagne. Lips formed into a thin line as he stilled and stood face to face with the latter, his knees slightly bent so their eyes might meet.
❝ I cannot abhor you for being hopeful,
and if I knew not how truly horrifying
a great serpent can be, then I may
think your quest possible. For Thorin,
son of Thráin, has with him kin and
company ever loyal and faithful.❞
Now, the elf straightened his posture once more. Yet, his eyes left not the dwarf before him. In his eyes, however, there was no more obvious contempt. Behind clear, glass eyes were something far more unfathomable - distant, they were, as if witnessing a scene unseen by anyone other than their bearer. It might pass as such, for what Thranduil now saw was Thrór, former King under the Mountain prior the desolation of Smaug.
❝ For you, loyal vessel of Thorin, the
wake of the drake may not be the worst
to come, but only worse. With this trust
you place in your king, it is what comes
after and if you reclaim your kingdom.
that you should come and fear. ❞
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