This story is an account of certain events that transpired in recent weeks, written from the perspective of Theothar. Since all is written from his (completely insane) point of view, there is a high chance none of the following is at all accurate.
A single day passed since the blind man and the innkeeper-elf pulled the Dalesman out of his tranquil part of the kitchens and into their meeting. The intricate ancient hammer that was given to him hung at his belt, and his hand already grew used to tracing the lines of the artifact for comfort. Those burdened by ambitions and goals would probably easily explain what Theothar was being plagued with currently, the passive dishwasher not so much.
Some weeks ago, he recalled, the Silvan intruded into his peaceful part of the inn to torture him with conversation. With his usual malicious smile, the Elf proceeded to run circles around the Man's mind, toying with words and gestures of kindness to, undoubtedly, achieve some hidden goal. What the goal was, Theothar could not say. What he could say for certain was only that the Silvan was not to be trusted.
Galtharian approached him when dinner was concluded and the dwarves had already piled up all the cutlery, plates, cups, and everything else in the small room that served as Theothar's domain. Theothar was never one to be accused of not being on high alert, but Galtharian moved silently enough to escape being detected until he spoke out.
"My friend... may I join you?" The statement was followed by the usual wolfish grin - Theothar knew his employer was aware that his word was law in the inn so the statement was instantly rendered moot. The title, 'my friend', that he was bestowed with only emphasized the futility of the question. These two were not friends, that was also something the Silvan must have known. This sort of toying might have worked with the trusting fools that were the usual patrons, it would not work on the stoic man.
Theothar nodded towards him, but the brief pause that the Silvan's appearance caused, disrupted his usual rhythm and thus he deemed it would be more efficient to let the Elf do what he will before he restarted his work. Galtharian must have seen this as an opening to pull him into his plans, since he moved into the room and sat down on one of the benches lining the walls, grinning at the Man.
"I had not that chance to thank you for all you have done in my absence, my friend. I thought... I wanted you to know that I have heard of your deeds and your help was most appreciated." Theothar's eyes narrowed at this (or tried to, his face was not exactly very capable of expression), trying to grasp the meaning behind the pleasantries. It was apparent the other found some sick enjoyment in keeping his real intentions hidden. He decided to play along, leaving the statement to hang between them in silence and not grace the other with a reply. He was content with just listening.
The plan was successful since the mysterious commander leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a lower volume in an effort to more accurately portray his true intentions. "I know that is a life you have left behind... I shall not ask that you speak of it. Yet I wish you to know your efforts have not been unseen."
Like struck with a weapon, Theothar's resolve faltered. How on Middle Earth did the SIlvan know anything about this. More importantly - how much did he know? The only one that had any idea what Theothar did leave behind was "Cromwell" and he was never around for long enough for the Elf to ask him. Furthermore, his companion would never have a reason to talk about it. It was all false rumours anyway. With silent horror, Theothar asked himself if this means that he was, at this moment, being... blackmailed. A glance at the Silvan's devilish grin confirmed his fears. It all started making sense - this was how this witch gained command of his secret troops. It was all mind-games and tricks. It clicked in his mind why Aearrien always protested when asked about anything - who knows what the Silvan was keeping on her to keep her in his service.
Even if he wished to show the complete horror that the Elf awoke in him with this statement, the expressionless face remained just that - expressionless. The flat tone addressed him for the first time, "What do you want?"
Galtharian seemed surprised. Of course, he would be, he was not expecting his ruse to be discovered so quickly. "I only wish to offer you my aid, my friend.", came the reluctant reply. "I doubt it was your intention to remain here, cleaning dishes for all time..." Theothar needed no more proof, the Innkeeper was playing with him like a cat playing with prey that was already captured and helpless. He should have known the coin they were paying him was far too much for the position he held - he never should have stepped into this place. Instead, they kept him here until they got what they really needed and now could use him for whatever they wanted. This was their plan, obviously - how did he not see this before?
"I don't need help. I'm looking for a forge." If he knew about that, the innkeeper must have known this too, but Theothar still said it. Keeping anything secret at this point was useless. He was not previously planning on exactly keeping anything secret, but he was not planning on poking his nose into secret Elven organizations either and it was already too late for that one. Now he wished he had at least tried keeping his reputation secret.
The Innkeeper nodded, signaling to the other that he probably already knew everything that was going on in his halls. "I can aid you, my friend, if you allow me to..." Another joke - he already established that Theothar could not refuse him, he was the master of these halls and could do whatever he wanted with the information he had.
"What do you want me to do?" He was tired of this. He wanted this entire conversation to be over. He wanted to go back to the mind-numbing repetition of cleaning. Whatever this business was, it was far beyond whatever Theothar wanted. But he had nowhere to hide from the Silvan's omniscient gaze, not in this inn. Probably not in all of Bree.
"Oh, you have already done much for us, my friend... You have provided us with more aid than we have asked of you."
That was not the answer to his question. He waited for the other to continue but he never did. So in a moment of brilliant courage, Theothar demanded, "Answer my question."
The Silvan had to pause at this, perhaps aware the mask of false gentleness was cracking on his face, perhaps just to muster the equally false friendly tone he spoke with or that smile behind which he hid his true ambitions. "There is place at my side for those with skills such as yours, and with the strength to defend these lands."
He was once more met with silence. The Dalesman examined his options. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from those that kept the inn. He was asked to come to Bree to help Sir "Cromwell" with a matter but was never told how this matter has been progressing. The dishes were what gave him coin to live the comfortable life he could, safely hiding away in this inn. If he tried to leave Bree, he would not get far on his own, he saw the conditions of the roads when they arrived - it was not safe for travel. Even if he escaped Bree - what was he going to do? Just like in Dale and Bree, it was likely nobody will need a blacksmith that looked like this.
"Alright." The reply was as cold and as distant as always but it drew another smile out from the Silvan. He stood up walked over to the Man and offered him a hand. Emerald eyes flew up to meet the bright blue of the Silvan's and he relented, accepting this gesture however reluctantly. The deal was done, they shook hands on it. There was no going back now.
The Silvan turned, preparing to depart from the room, the olive-dyed cloak following the movement and dancing around his form - the same sort of cloak that draped over the shoulders of his followers, which included her; the symbol of his rule over them. Galtharian turned once he was at the door. "I shall do whatever I can to find you this forge, my friend. We take care of our own... Then we may speak on this further."
With that he left, leaving Theothar in the silence and peace he so desired. He allowed a sigh to escape him. He was one of their own. The mysterious Elf commander already claimed ownership of him. All of this was the price he paid for his carelessness.
