Unlike most of the Wood-Elves who had had frequent dealings with that town, the Elves of Lothlorien were seldom seen in Dale, so when Gilith was asked to be part of a delegation from Caras Galadhon to be sent on the banks of the bright River Running, she was excited and looked forward to learn more about the people who lived there. Celduin, as the Elves called it was famous- its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of the land, peaceful and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest Dwarven kingdom in Middle-earth, Erebor, stronghold of Thror, King Under the Mountain, mightiest of the Dwarf Lords.
Situated at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, Dale was buzzing with activity on the morning of the arrival of the Elves from Lothlorien. It was a cold and sunny winter morning, crisp and luminous. The stone towers and buildings, the glittering fountains, the paved roads of many colors were a wonder to behold, there in the far North. Suddenly the clear ringing of the many bells began to chime a merry melody, signaling the arrival of the Elves. Gilith lengthened her stride, leading her horse, on the bridle.
The town was busy, and many of the locals stopped to greet her and her guards. Humans and Dwarves alike filled the market. Gilith was dressed according to her rank as Commander of the Royal Guard of Lorien, in deep blue velvet and silvery grey silk, wearing an elaborate head piece of silver and gold upon her artfully braided hair. Many looks of admiration upon the faces turnings toward the Elves of Lorien made her slightly uncomfortable. Girion, the Lord of Dale, waiting for her on the steps of the town hall, was dressed every bit as richly as she was, in white and gold, over which a well groomed and plaited beard seemed to glow in the sunlight, and an incredible necklace made of five hundred emeralds. He greeted the visitors with such deep, respectful bows that his beard swept the stone floor, and whistled to a servant to lead away the horses.
This was a rare diplomatic mission from Lothlorien. The Lord and Lady, despite their determination to keep the Golden Wood safe, knew the important of building good relationships. “Welcome to Dale, Tîn Gilith of Lothlorien” he said in broken Sindarin. She nodded politely, but did not smile. Elves rarely smile in the presence of Men, or Dwarves.Gilith was lead inside the building. What she saw was a beautiful rustic hall, illuminated by lamps made of antlers, suspended on golden chains from the ceiling. Long tables of heavy oak ran along the walls. The hall had a tall, arched windows, fitted with an intricate pattern of stained glass that broke the sunlight into a rainbow colored pattern on the floor.
That evening a feast in honor of the guests from Lothlorien was held. The Great Hall was decorated, and full of richly clad people, who sat along the long, low tables, on carved chairs. The tables had been set with plates and tankards of gold and silver. The feast was worthy of the event. The dishes were tasty, even though a little heavy for an Elven stomach, and the tankards were refilled with alarming speed. Gilith sipped the sweet wine. Elves had an amazing endurance as regards wine of course, many Men in the hall were already more than tipsy, but the Elves kept drinking. A band sat, with various musical instruments. Long flutes, violas, lutes, drums, and harps. Music began to fill the hall and dancers took to the floor, swirling and swaying.
Gilith found mortal humans curiously interesting. Their lives were short, and yet they seemed happy. Men and women would age with the passing of time, their hair would change color, their skin would wrinkle, and yet they were able to enjoy their short lives. Elves attitude towards Men range from cold to luke warm at best. Despite her education and curiosity, Gilith still believed Men were too rustic, easily corruptible creatures. A small delegation of Dwarves from Erebor was present at the gathering. Most of the Elves found hard to hide their distaste towards the Sons of Aulë the Smith. Some had even whispered in Gilith's ear, their contempt. The Dwarves from their part, seem rather unphased by the presence of the Elves, although they arrogantly refused to sit at the same table as the First-born.
The day after the feast, Dale woke up covered by a blanket of snow. The early morning bells tolled, calling people to their duties. Gilith had been unable to sleep, the beds were too small, too lumpy, the sheet were coarse. She opened the shutters and looked down to the town at the foot of the great mountain. An hour later the Elven delegation from Lothlorien was seen riding out of the south gate. The diplomatic mission had been a relative success. Gifts and declaration of friendship were exchanged, but no alliances were forged between Lorien and Dale.
A few years later terrible news from Dale came to Caras Galadhon. Hearing about the treasures and wealth of the Dwarves of Erebor, a great dragon from the Grey Mountains was seen flying south " like a hurricane from the North ". The dragon attacked Erebor and the lands around it. When the Dwarves came running out of the front gate, the dragon killed them all, and then turned his attention to the city of Dale. Almost all were killed there, including Girion, Lord of Dale. The dragon claimed the treasure for himself and laid deep inside Erebor on a bed of gold and precious stones. Dale was destroyed and abandoned, the area surrounding the mountain became known as the Desolation of the Dragon.
In the world of Men and Dwarves this was a catastrophic event, but it the world of Elves it was only a small ripple on the surface of time. They turned their heads and looked to the other side, unwilling to help, unable to care for the fate of others, however having a dragon under the Lonely Mountain was not something the Elves could ignore, so their eyes turned once more in that direction. From afar they would watch the Mountain, for they knew the fate of Erebor and Dale had yet to be written.
