The Raven's Blade III: The Twilight Years

by Valandhir

The battle for Erebor is over and the Dwarven Exiles are returning home to rebuild their kingdom, best that they know how with all the changes the road heaped on them. All is not well and strife and contention still are abound, and in the north an ancient dark power whispers in the deeps. Rated M for violence, just to be safe

1. Chapter 1: The road leads on

Prologue: The Road leads on

Icy wind drove a chilled shower of snow and icicles against Bilbo's pony, and sent fresh shivers right into his bones. It was the first time in his life that he had voluntarily wrapped something around his feet, to keep them from freezing. His left hand was closed around the pack pony's reins, making sure it did not try to trudge away and they had to search for it. Not that he was complaining, their journey had proceeded well so far. From Erebor they had turned west to cross Mirkwood again. Gandalf and Beorn had been with them on the first leg of their journey, as the wizard wished to visit the Elven King Thranduil in his halls to ensure the Easterling spy from Dol Guldur had not done other harm. None of the other three had felt any wish to enter the halls of Mirkwood again, Kili in particular held no wish to get ever that close or personal with the woodland elves again. And Beorn while holding no grudges towards the elves had no dealings with them either and so they had bidden their goodbyes to the wizard and ridden west, taking the familiar road again. Only this time they knew what path to take and their journey was calmer, with the impressive carnage in Dol Guldur it was safer to cross the forest on the old dwarven road. Beorn's company probably had been the other reason for their unhindered passage. With their horses they had been much swifter too.

Still they all breathed easier when Mirkwood lay behind them and they approached the great river. Beorn had offered them shelter for the winter; the mighty shapeshifter had proven a wonderful travelling companion. Dwalin, Bilbo and Kili had talked it through during their first evening at his house and decided to press on. It was already December but both dwarves had crossed the mountains in winter before. It was the hardest part of their journey so far. Snow fell heavily and the icy winds blew mercilessly from the north, but they made good progress.

"Bilbo!" Kili who had been clearing away a blockade of snow came trudging back to him to guide the pony through the gap. The young dwarf had sometimes had his withdrawn moments during their journey, but never allowed the sadness to linger. He took the reins of Bilbo's pony. "You have to see this," he said, with a small smile.

While he was capable of guiding the pony himself, Bilbo had learned quite well to ride by now, he allowed Kili to lead the animal, it was such a small thing really, but it showed Bilbo how strongly he had become 'their Hobbit', as they called him affectionately. When they passed the snow barrier to where Dwalin stood with the horses, Bilbo's eyes widened. They stood at the very escarpment of the Mountains, seeing the valley of Imladris lie deep down below. The snowfall had ceased and the winter sun graced the early afternoon skies, in the clear cold air they could see far across Eriador, And against the horizon they saw vague darker shadows, the Ered Luin greeting them from afar. Bilbo squinted as he looked towards the far away range. Somewhere there, far under the winter skies lay the Shire, Hobbiton and Bag-End.

"We're home," Kili had spoken, a genuine smile shone on his face when he saw the familiar land before them. "Come, let us get down the pass before nightfall."

"You know that this way will lead us right into Rivendell," Dwalin said, as they made their way through the snow down the narrow passageway.

"I promised Elrohir I would deliver the letter to his father and brother," Kili said. "They must be worried by now, with all the Orcs heading east, they had reason to." The Elven Prince was still at Erebor, he was still needed as a healer, as were many of his riders and he had been loath to leave before Thorin was not truly recovered. Kili knew that Elrohir had fought hard to rescue Thorin when he had lain near death after the battle.

They came around the sharp turn where the way became very narrow and carefully guided their mounts down. "I admit, I would prefer to camp at the Watch again, rest, sleep, just warriors for company…" Kili went on, once he had firm ground under his boots again.

"But this will not be possible," an Elven voice interrupted him, coming from the pathway further down, where a single elven rider stood, he must have come from the other path coming down the mountains.

"Elladan!" Kili hurried down the rest of the way to greet the elven Prince. "It is good to see you, albeit I had hardly expected to meet you before reaching the valley."

Elladan had dismounted when he greeted Kili. "I have been riding up to the mountain roads often since the Orcs headed east," he said honestly. "Kili… do you have any news of my brother?" There was worry in his voice, a worry Kili could understand all too well. He would be the same with Fili, only that he could sense his brother inside the bond, knowing he was alright.

"I do," he replied. "When we left Erebor Elrohir was fine and healthy, he did not suffer any injuries during the battle but his help after saved many lives."

"Battle? Against the Dragon?" Elladan asked, then raised his hand to stop the answer. "No, do not tell me now; knowing he is well will have to do for the moment. My father will wish to hear of all this as well, and you would have to tell and re-tell it all several times."

"Oh, I would not mind repeating the ballads," Kili said as they went on and into the valley of Imladris. "His charge on Raven Hill should earn him more than a few songs. I do not dare imagine what would have happened had the Orcs taken that position."

"So, a battle against the Orcs. Smaug is dead as well, I assume?" Elladan asked back, wondering what adventures and battles his brother had been involved in.

"Smaug is dead," Kili confirmed curtly. "The Orcs came after, and your brother came to our aid several times during our journey…"

Elladan noticed how quickly Kili skipped over the dead dragon and went back to Elrohir's heroics, he knew the young dwarf well enough to read between the lines. But he did not ask in that moment, but guided them towards his father's house.

TRB

They had been given the chance to bathe, change and rest a little, before being granted an audience with Lord Elrond. Kili was glad for that, they all three were cold and had been on the road for far too long. The chance to wash and make themselves presentable was more than welcome, especially before a formal audience. After a long bath he had combed out his long mane of hair, he then swiftly went to braiding it. One braid was nearly unchanged, indicating he had one living brother of blood and one dead soul brother, the other braid was a simple necessity, indicating his rank among dwarves. He had never worn that one before, but Thorin had insisted he begin when in formal situations, though he'd prefer it if he always wore it.

When they were led to the audience hall, Kili was grateful that it would be in a closed hall, rather than one of the many open bowers Rivendell had. Elrond awaited them with a few Elves of his court, none that Kili had ever even seen before. Elladan was there as well, standing to his father's right. Kili bowed as was proper, he had been taught the politeness that that needed to be observed. When he handed the letter to Lord Elrond, the elf took it but did not read it. "You have my thanks for bringing me news of my son," he said. "But I would wish to hear more of him and what befell him on his journey." He gestured to the side, where Kili was invited to sit on a chair, with Dwalin standing behind him. Bilbo took the place to Kili's side, in the chainmail and cloak he wore; he did not look out of place at all.

"The first time your son came to our aid, was when we were set upon by Mirkwood elves on the Men-i-Naugrim," Kili began speaking, relating the story of Elrohir's deeds as much as he knew them. There was a lot to tell, from their rescue, over the battle against the tree to the events at Erebor. Mindful that these were the halls of Elrohir's father, he kept the story on the elven Prince and his deeds, and if he embellished a little here and there, he did so very skillfully. When it came to the battle itself, he did ask Dwalin to tell of the charge at Raven Hill, as Kili had not been conscious to witness most of it.

Dwalin acquiesced with the air of a man who did know how to tell a good warstory, and a good story it truly was. While Dwalin was not much of a talker most of the time he knew how to tell a war story well, how to keep his listeners enthralled with a story of fighting and blood and heroic charges.

Elrond's eyebrows had arched slightly, he had heard many a tale of war but he had hardly expected at being regaled with stories about son's heroics for most of the evening and his dwarven guests were gleefully adding one story after the other. The Elven Lord was well aware that their own perceptions might play a role in this as well, the Dwarven King that would not expect his son to be a great warrior had yet to be born and the young dwarven Prince here was very aware that he was sitting with Elrohir's father. "You have not mentioned the fate of the dragon yet," Elrond observed, steering the topic to something other than Elrohir's numerous brave fights.

"Dead," Kili replied directly. "Bilbo here snatched something very precious from the hoard and we used it to lure the beast into the ruins of Dale, where it was eventually shot during the fight."

The Elven Lord was surprised at the very curt summary of events, he would have expected the dwarves to brag about it, but it seemed like the young Prince was nearly shy about the topic. Before he could inquire, Kili spoke again. "I am aware you wonder why Prince Elrohir did not return home with us," he said. "But there still were a nuber pf wounded in need of his aid. He saved many lives after the battle; some of our best would have died if not for him." Their conversation turned to other topics and the audience ended late in the night.

TRB

Elladan accompanied Kili back to their quarters, the invitation to stay until the worst snows were over had of course been extended and politely accepted. "It was you who shot the dragon." he stated, while they walked.

Surprised Kili looked up. "How do you know?" he asked, his voice tensing slightly. "I did not mention any details of the fight."

"It was what you did not say, that gave you away," Elladan explained, "you did not name a dragonslayer and you evaded the topic. I am surprised though, the Kili I got to know a few years ago would have bragged about such a feat… rightfully so; few can claim such a brave deed."

Kili stopped beside one of the oriel windows of the hallway. "That boy grew up, Elladan and he learned what true courage is…"

The elven Prince stood beside him, he could sense much had changed in his younger friend, like that one journey had been years instead of mere months. "What happened?" he asked gently, feeling that Kili's soul was full.

"I… I saw a friend who… who had taken on a task, he left everything behind to do this, everything, life, family… his place, because he deemed this mission worthy. In his eyes it needed to be done and he was the only one who could do it. He went through all this, never even speaking of it, he fought and bled, was a friend like none other and… in the end, when he had accomplished his task… when he had won, when he should have had the chance to at least rejoice… he gave his life, Elladan. Boromir gave his life so Fili and I would survive, he died smiling, victorious… no regrets and absolutely no fears. That's courage, to do what is needful, no matter if anyone will ever see and know what you accomplished, to what needs to be done without flinching, without backing out… that's the real courage. Facing a dragon is easy in comparison." Kili's dark eyes reflected in the clear glass of the window, and he shook his head. "If I can learn half that courage, maybe I'll have been worth it."

"To him you were worth it, right there and then, Kili, never forget that," Elladan pointed out sagely, "may I ask you something else?"

Kili straightened up, pushing the other thoughts aside. "Of course, what do you wish to know?"

"The Lord of the Dragon Forge," Elladan began, "you have been skirting the topic, and you were very careful with what you said. But I could not help to notice a few remarkable details that made me wonder…"

"Elladan, his presence caused tension with the Woodland Elves already, and while I do not care if they all hide shivering in the depths of their woods, I do not wish to cause further strife through hasty words."

The elf smiled. "You truly have grown, my friend." He said warmly. "But you need not fear, if he is the one I would guess from your words, my father may not be so unhappy to hear of his survival."

"Would he?" Kili asked. "I mean… I heard a lot of ancient Ballads from you that winter eight years ago and… you and his family would have a blood feud if I understood the story about Sirion correctly."

"So it is him!" Elladan exclaimed. "Kili, Elves do not conduct extensive blood feuds like dwarves may, and… the story of Sirion Havens is far more complex than the songs will ever let on."

TRB

The chance to rest for days was a very welcome one and Kili was grateful for it. With the waning elven year the snows were setting in in earnest now and there was hardly a morning where there was no new snow on the paths and walkways of Rivendell. Kili trudged along the winding pathway between the beautiful elven houses, after a few days of rest he needed to stretch his legs. He saw a movement to his side as a boy came skittering downhill, nearly falling through his own momentum. Reaching out Kili grasped the boy and as he steadied himself. "Careful there, you don't want to roll all the way down to the Bruinen."

"Thank you," the boy replied, he was panting form running hard. "But I tried to catch up with you. How is it you can walk so fast in this snow?"

He was a human boy, whom Kili would estimate of about ten human years. "It's a secret," he teased the boy a little. "Why were you looking for me, young scout?"

"My name is Estel," the boy introduced himself. "When you passed through here last spring a warrior was with you. His name was Boromir and I was wondering if he might be with you again. He gave me a sword and… I wanted to show him how much I learned, I have been practicing all summer."

So Boromir had met this young one, Kili realized, seeing the eager face of the child. "Boromir is not with us, Estel." He said. "But he would be happy to hear you are practicing a lot."

Estel's face fell, his eyes still on Kili's. "Something happened to him, didn't it?" he asked softly, reading Kili's mien with an astonishing accuracy.

Gently Kili touched Estel's shoulders with his strong hands. "There was a battle, last autumn, and… he fell. He was very brave, he saved my life." The full story would be too complicated for a child to hear, but knowing that his warrior friend had gone bravely might be enough. Kili too had heard his share of such abbreviated stories amongst all those whose parents rested by the cold shores of Mirrormere.

Estel ducked his head, his lip quivering, he had not known Boromir well enough to cry but he was clearly crushed to hear the warrior he had idolized was not coming back. Kili did not have the heart to send the child home like that. "You could show me what you have learned," he suggested.

The youngster looked at him. "But why would you want to know?"

Kili could not resist to ruffle Estel's dark hair. "Because Boromir was my friend too, young one, and that means I will look out for his friends. It is something warriors do; we always look out for the friends of those comrades who did not make it home." It was a dwarven way as it had grown among the exiles; you looked out for the friends of those who died, because friendships often replaced the families that had not survived the journey.

"Does that make you my friend too?" Estel asked in a small voice.

"Yes, it makes us friends and friends know each other's name, my name is Kili." Kili smiled a little, he could see the boy straightening up a bit, trying to stand taller, at that age boys would begin to do that and try to mirror the warriors around them.

"Then… will you come and look what I learned?" Estel asked. "I have been practicing so much, mother does not like it at all, but Elladan has been showing me a few forms. I never get the spin right, though."

"Lead the way, young one," Kili said, following the boy through the high snows to a house by the side of the valley.

TRB

Gilraen walked home in the cold winter dawn, she had been called to Lady Arwen and it had gotten much later than she had expected. She hoped she would not have to go back to Elrond's house and enlist Elladan's help to find Estel. When she approached her home in the valley she noticed at once that a fire had been lit in the brazier in the yard, sending a warm light into the night. How was this possible, she had not had any wood stacked outside and it was too cold to light frozen wood anyway. Her thoughts went from the fire to the scene in the yard where she saw her son spar with someone else. She could hear a deep voice call out commands while the bout went on. "Step back… left block… good!... stronger!"

The Dunedain woman stopped where she stood and took in the scene. Estel's sparring partner was not much taller than the boy was, but broader in shoulders and build and his voice was a deep resonating baritone. A dwarf, then. Gilraen had lived long enough in Eriador to know their kind, which would also explain the fire. Many dwarves could make fire from nothing and keep it burning as long as they wished. She walked closer and saw the dwarf swiftly circle Estel, forcing the boy to anticipate his attacks, suddenly Estel spun around his blade coming about and precisely parried an attack.

"You did it! Good!" The dwarf praised and Estel laughed happily.

"It never worked before, Kili!" He was so exhilarated that he hugged the dwarf.

Gilraen walked into the yard, a little worried but she saw the dwarf smile and ruffle Estel's hair. "We will have to practice that until you do it without even trying." He said. "But I believe your mother is here and she will wish for your company now. Never be rude to a Lady."

Estel turned to greet his mother. "Mother, this is Kili…" he began explaining.

"I know," Gilraen said. "I have seen him before," it was true, albeit she had not recognized him right away. "You used to come to Wildfane Heights with your brother to do smithy work," she explained towards the dwarf. He had changed, looking more solemn and more like a warrior now, the last fourteen years had changed him a lot obviously.

Kili frowned, trying to remember her face. "Dirhaél's daughter, am I right?" he asked after a moment. "Forgive me, my Lady, I do not think I ever heard your name, but only spoke to your father and your betrothed."

Sadness touched Gilraen's heart, remembering her Arathorn, even if this particular memory was not one of his prouder moments. "My name is Gilraen," she introduced herself.

Kili bowed. "Kili, at your service."

The woman hid a smile, the gesture woke memories of happier days in Eriador, of days on the summer markets, where the wandering dwarves and other strangers passed by. "Is your brother with you too?" she asked. "I recall you never showing up alone, along with… who was he? Tall, dark-ish, very gruff…"

"My father," Kili chuckled at the description. "No, they both are still at Erebor, while my comrades and I are on our way west to bring news to our people in Ered Luin."

Estel peered to Kili. "You have to tell us, Kili. Did your King really fight a dragon? And that battle what happened there… couldn't you stay and tell us?"

"Your mother will wish for some time with you, Estel" Kili reminded the eager boy. "If she permits I can come by tomorrow and tell you while we practice."

Gilraen shook her head. "No, Kili, you are very welcome to our home," she said. "Estel has been wondering and worrying a lot about the dragon heroes ever since the summer."

It was a long evening, one that Gilraen was content to sit and watch most of the time. Kili and Estel sat in front of the fire and Kili was telling of his journey, stories full of danger, adventure and heroic deeds. Gilraen had grown up a Dunedain, her father and brothers Rangers, her dead husband a Ranger, she knew what life was like out there and she could tell that Kili certainly edited those stories, keeping out the darker and nastier aspects. His descriptions of the Goblin King were funny, he made fun of the Great Goblin's fear of Orcrist, colourfully told of their flight through burning Goblin Town, but she could tell there were things he did not say, she had seen that expression in the eyes of her family too often to now know what it meant.

Eventually Estel was so tired, not even the best tale could keep him awake and Gilraen sent him to bed, her heart heavy. Estel wanted to be a warrior, to fight… and she wished to protect him, she had seen enough of the world out there to know what would lie in store for him.

"If you'd rather I did not come back to teach him, you need only to say so." Kili spoke up; he had risen, ready to leave. "He will be disappointed but grow out of it, as time passes."

"Is it that obvious?" Gilraen asked.

"He mentioned his mother not being happy with the gift of a sword and… there is the worry in your eyes. My… mother, Dis, she had the same expression when my father began to take us along on his journeys. And she was a dwarf woman who fought with axe and hammer better than us at times." The way Kili spoke, his voice warm and gentle, told Gilraen he understood her fears at least partially.

"You have lived out there, Kili," she replied, walking to the window, looking out into the icy winter night. "You have lived on the roads, always wandering, always in danger and always on the move… Orcs, Trolls and Goblins on top of all that… and I fear for my son. I want him to be safe, but once he leaves this place, he will be hunted. And then… then I see him with a sword, and remember that the sword did not save my husband…" She bowed her head. "You must think me a fool."

"No," Kili had stepped beside her. "You worry for your only child; you want to protect him that is not foolishness. The world out there is rough… but the better he knows how to fend for himself, the better his chances when danger draws close."

Gilraen sighed. "How did you live with it? The dangers… the scorn? Your father can't have wanted that kind of life for you." She looked at him and realized that what she had said echoed the sentiment many of her people had for the wandering dwarves, that the life they lived was shameful, and he had heard it. "I… I am sorry; I should not have said that."

"You said what you think, no one can fault you for that," Kili replied, his black eyes still focused on the nightly landscape, like it was a place more familiar than the house and the fireplace. "While I know that my father wanted a better life for us… he gave us all we needed, he was our rock and anchor on the wanderings and all the home we needed." He smiled warmly. "A home is not a roof or a place, it is with the people we belong to, and with a few good comrades no road, no danger is quite as bad." He looked up, coming back from wherever his mind had gone. "Allow your son to be strong, Gilraen, show him not your fears, but your trust in him… and he will prove stronger than you can imagine."

"Estel will be glad if you come back to teach him," Gilraen said. "if… if it does not take too much of your time."

"We are stuck here until the worst snows are over," Kili said with a smile, "and I can't go and work in the forge because it would offend our gracious host, I can't even brush my own horse for the same reason… I am glad to having something to do. Usually I am the younger brother… it is nice to be the big one for a change."

In that smile Gilraen could see a younger expression, one more matched with his true age, he was but a dwarven youth, in human years he would not be twenty yet. And he had already been sent to battle… she could not keep the heavy thoughts away. "Then I will be glad to see you here more often."

TRB

Elrond sat in his study alone, the letter Elrohir had written before him, it was not very long, like so often Elrohir's words were short, direct and to the point. His missive held more than a few acid comments on Thranduil and his tree hugging, Elrond frowned at those. He would have to have a long talk with his son when he returned. Even with the anger his son might feel, he should extend more mercy towards one of their own who had been badly wronged by the shadow.

With the many wounded and Thorin's own injuries I will have to remain here until at least spring, the letter went on. The men of Dale have suffered grievous losses and who knows what kinds of troubles will come out of the wilderness with all that has happened this year?

Elrond had to smother a smile, his son enjoyed his adventuring more than an elf should and while he of course would find excellent reasons to stay away, he did not exactly hide he was happy to pursue dangers far away from his father's house. However, Elrond could see that the positive relations his son might build with the dwarves of Erebor would be beneficial to the Elves in the long run, especially if Mirkwood and Erebor were not likely to make peace anytime soon. He looked back on the letter and read on.

What worries me to no little amount is the prophecy grandmother gave me before we parted, she spoke of a doom in the North and of pain it would bring. So far, I have only encountered a wayward elf king and the armies of a pale orc, and unfriendly as they might have been, they do not warrant the word of doom from Lady Galadriel's mouth. Do you have any deeper insight in this? My heart is uneasy, but my mind cannot find the reason for my unrest.

Letting the letter sink to the table, Elrond touched it gently with his hand, it held the echoes of his son's presence keenly, vibrant and alive Elrohir had left an echo of his song on these letters. Closing his eyes Elrond followed that song, the echo he could feel.

"I am sending you into danger, Inyo," Galadriel's voice whispered. "The world is shifting under our very feet, a whirlwind has touched us and the leaves are ripped into the maelstrom, and I do not see the way out. But taking your brother with you echoes disaster… danger. Elrohir, if you truly chose this path… it will bring you pain, danger… and maybe a banishment that will weigh on you like a burden."

Before Elrond's inner eye pictures whirled like a radiant wheel… Elrohir fighting in a wide hall... moving between someone and an attacker… a number of corpses in a hallway… 'I may not like him but they took his son', a gruff voice 'and I owe him this obligation. Don't you dare offer your help again, elf.'… dark figures crowding tunnels somewhere in the dark… fire searing from a chasm… 'careful, no one has been in these deeps for generations' the gruff voice again… Elrohir standing with his sword in hand ready to fight an elf, and Elrond felt a heartwrenching pain, sensing the choice crushing down like a hammer. … The pictures whirled stronger, he was getting lost… Elrohir standing at a broken fortress wall fighting legions Orcs among warriors of men… a field of blood… his son fighting… no regrets…

Steadying himself against the table Elrond tried to not feel the pain of these visions, some of them stretching years and years into the future, he could not place them correctly, they were layered with a whirling, searing darkness. But the path… it had nearly been chosen. What time Elrohir had to turn away from this path was waning quickly. The choice had been half made when he went East, Galadriel had been right; she had sent him into danger. And she had seen true, something had shifted, changed… irrevocably. But he did not understand it yet, and yet he would search for the answers.

TBR

Bilbo could not believe he had voluntarily gone out into that cold weather, only a year ago he would have refused to set one toe out of the door while snow was high. He twisted his toes against the warmth of the fire in the fireplace. But he had exactly done that, asking Kili to teach him the way the sword as well. He limited it to two hours each day, but that meant being out in a cold yard, only warmed by a blazing brazier that kept the air just warm enough for them to not have icicles in their lungs by the end of the lesson.

The training was a choice Bilbo had not made out of sheer boredom, he was very happy to pass his hours in the great library of Elrond's house. But the memory of the battle had not left him, he had fought best that he knew how, and the overwhelming feeling of having to protect his friends had held him up during those hours, but… he still wished to better be able to defend himself. Dwalin had been right, when he had said that the wilds were not place for people who could neither fight nor fend for themselves.

The thought of that brought Bilbo out of his comfy chair; he could not lounge about all day. Instead he went back to the library. The vast airy hall was his favorite place in all of Rivendell. There were so many books here, so much knowledge carefully stored and preserved. At first he had simply come here for a desk and some quiet while he began his journal, writing down all that had happened on his journey. He somehow wanted to preserve this last year, horrifying, frightening and amazing as it had been, he never wanted to forget it and he wanted to somehow immortalize those of their friends that had died. While he began his work he had found that the library was a wonderful place to research and find the bits and pieces of the story he was missing, details he only knew vaguely. For example he had noticed the seal on Thorin's axe many times but he had not memorized it. The elven librarian had smiled when asked and led him to a book about Durin's House, holding a wealth of knowledge that helped Bilbo to understand many details of their journey, and of his friends.

Bilbo tiptoed into the library and found the desk he was usually working on, the one opposite, standing in the same oriel was taken that day by Prince Elladan. Sitting down on the cushions on the chair, Bilbo opened the book; it was a sturdy, leather bound tome that would last a long time in any library. While he had begun writing he had always begun to add sketches and drawings to the story, preserving the faces of his friends, the places they had seen. "Still working on your journal?" Elladan asked, looking up from the longer missive he had been writing.

"Trying to remember the details on the map, as a matter of fact," Bilbo replied. "I would like to see it added to this chronicle. But… I only saw it a few times and did not pay the attention I should have." Discontentedly he looked at his own sketches of the precious map.

Elladan tilted his head to look at the sketch. "I saw the map too, when Thorin showed it to me," he observed, "if you wish I can draw a copy of it."

"I would be most grateful," Bilbo replied, surprised the elf would remember the map from seeing it only that one time. Elladan inclined his head, taking a clean roll of parchment, thinking for a moment before he began to draw, slowly producing a copy of the map.

Bilbo watched him for a while, a thought coming to him. He had sketches and drawings of most of the dwarves by now, they were very lively in his mind, but he still needed a drawing of Elrohir and found it difficult to draw the elf from memory, but Elladan was identical to Elrohir except maybe being less fierce. While the Prince worked on the map, Bilbo studied him, beginning to draw a portrait of him. He smiled, it would be a wonderful book in the end.

Author's Notes

And here we are, ready to start the new journey. Welcome back to all of you who have followed The Raven's Blade faithfully so far. This will be a bit of a strange story, because it has to cover a lot of things in a long timeframe and I hope you will enjoy it. :D

Big thanks go to the amazing Harrylee94, who is putting up with my crazy ideas, writing sprees and is still writing wonderful stories of her own. Harrylee94 you are a marvel! You'll get an extra big Thorin cuddle cushion just for yourself. ;).

Like always, comments, speculations and critique are welcome here!

Thanks to you all who have been sharing this journey so far.

Valandhir

This is a work of non-profit fan fiction using characters from the Hobbit/Lord of the Rings world, which is trademarked by J.R.R. Boromir and Kili are characters created and owned by Tolkien INC, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Middle Earth. The story I tell here about Boromir and Kili is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to J.R.R. Tolkien for his wonderful stories about Middle Earth, for without his books, my story would not exist.