THE BLACKSMITH'S TALE

Full Summary:

Meet Hela Took, daughter of Fenrir the Berserk. For twenty-four years, she lived a solitary life with her Dwarf father and her Tookish mother, on a little homestead nestled in the Hills of Evendim. But for the red-haired child of their old age, a gift from the God of Fire and Mischief, Fenrir and Oleander dream great things. When Thorin Oakenshield, a master blacksmith, agrees to take Hela as his apprentice it seems their dreams will come true. But, ten years on, Hela, now a blacksmith and a Dwarven berserker in her own right, has returned to the family homestead, nursing a grudge against her Master and King. When she hears of his Quest for Erabor, she will take it up as her own. But, can anything alter the doom that fate ordained for the Heirs of Durin? Who knows? With Hela the Fire Hammer, daughter of Fenrir, blessed of Loki on their side, even the fates may be cheated out of their prize.

Prelude: Fire in the Forge

In those days, 60 years before the War of the Ring, the Shire could boast of having a real Dwarven Master Blacksmith, who had been apprenticed for ten years to Thorin Oakenshield, himself.

It seemed somewhat odd, to Hobbits, who were more traditional about a woman's place than Dwarves that their smith should be a woman, but Hela was half a Dwarf, and half a Took, to boot, so they gave her a chance.

She proved to be more than up to the task.

It was a fine day in Hobbiton, but almost every day, fine or not, you could hear the sound of Hela Took's hammer ringing in her smithy; she worked as hard as any man would have, perhaps harder

Nor were the Shirefolk too surprised to see the Master Blacksmith's nephew in Hobbiton; he visited with Hela quite often.

But, when Kili, the nephew of Thorin entered the smithy, he, like everyone else who did, almost wilted from the blast of heat that came from the forge, as the flames leapt almost as high as the ceiling.

Thorin Oakernshield was a Master Blacksmith, and Kili's brother, Fili was Thorin's other apprentice, so he was used to the heat of a smith's forge, but even Thorin said he had never known another smith, of any race, to work at the temperature Hela did.

Except, maybe her father, Fenrir the Berserk.

Kili unbuckled his belt and took off his surcoat, hanging it on a peg.

It disturbed Kili that Hela went about her work dressed only in her boots, kilt and drawers, wearing nothing else but her blacksmith's apron, but it was the way she had always worked, and her father before her, and Thorin, too, worked in only his boots and breeches.

Kili had argued with Hela that they were both men, but Hela did not see what in her back was different from a man's, and she was covered enough in front that she was wholly decent.

Not seeing what in her was different from a man was sometimes the source of Hela's problems.

"Is that you, Kili?"

"It is, Hela. Your braid's coming all loose. Let me fix it for you."

Kili walked over to her, putting his hand in the small of her back, and kissing her cheek in greeting.

Her long red-orange hair was coming loose from all directions of the sloppy braid she had made it in.

"Aren't you afraid your hair will catch fire?" he asked.

He got his comb from his pocket and combed out Hela's hair, then he braided it tightly, all the way down to the small of her back, and fixed it in place with a mithril clip with a turquoise stone inlaid in it.

His Uncle had made that for her.

"It's never caught fire before. But now it's contained I won't sweat so much. I'll only be another five minutes or so, I've only got one horseshoe left."

Kili sat on the bench that Hela had in case her customers wanted to wait.

A few minutes later, Hela had the horsehoe she was making in it's place to cool, and she sat beside Kili, threw her arms around his neck and gave him a proper kiss, to say hello.

"Hela, the door is wide open!"

"And? Are we rolling around on the floor?"

"Kiss me like that, again, and we will be."

Kili went and closed the door.

"Well?" Hela asked.

"This time he is going! He has got a map from Gandalf the Grey, who is going with us, and Thorin has put out a call to any able-bodied Dwarf over the age of 30 to join his Company. Men only, though. There's been no small amount of grumbling in the Blue Mountains among the warrior women, over that."

"He's only made that rule so I won't go!"

"But you're coming, anyway, aren't you, Hela?"

Kili had his arms around her, again, running his hands up and down her bare, sweaty back.

"By every hair on Thor's brass bollocks, and all the fire in Mahal's forge you can bet I am! I just don't know how, yet."

"We can be married, here, in the Shire. By your people's laws, I'm of age to marry. And Thorin can't tell me not to bring my wife along."

"Yes he can! No, I'll have to figure a way so that he can't possibly go without me. When do you depart?"

"In two months time. I should be home, now, with Uncle Thorin and my brother, getting ready to leave. But he thinks you're not coming, so he didn't mind when I said I was going to come to see you."

"He thinks! If that wily old bastard of a whoremaster thinks he can do me out of my chance at whopping great sacks of dragon treasure and a chance to prove myself worthy to be a Berserker, then he's got another fookin' think coming! Get your surcoat, Kili." Hela seethed.

"Now?"

"Well, you could leave it here, no one will steal it. Yes, now, because if we are not soon in my rooms at the Green Dragon you will be on the floor. It's been too long since I saw you, last."

"Did you miss me?"

"I just told you I did."

"Do you love me, Hela? Only a little?"

Hela took off her apron, and took a black tunic off a peg, and put that on and tied the laces at the front.

"I'm not putting my jerkin on and lacing it up, just so I can take it off again."

She threw it over her shoulder.

Kili was waiting for an answer.

"Kili, I've been your girl, and your friend, for twenty years. I'm going to marry you. I just can't love you. Or anyone else, for that matter. Why do you keep making me say it?"

"Because when you say you can't love me, you mean you can't admit it to yourself that you do. Now if you said that you didn't love me, then I'd be in trouble."

"Kili, I would never say that."

They began walking across the street to the Green Dragon.


Chapter One: The Trickster's Gift

There are those that say that a marriage between a Hobbit and Dwarf is always a mistake.

Like my mother and father.

She is a Hobbit; he is a Dwarf.

And there are those that say that Fenrir the Berserk never should have married, especially after he became a bit demented following the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Something my mother and father also agree upon.

But, one of the only other things that Oleander Took and her husband, Fenrir the Berserk do agree upon is that there is one good thing that came from their marriage.

And that is me, their daughter, Hela.

My father was about a hundred and forty when I was born, and my mother was sixty, which, even for a Dwarf and a Hobbit, is middle-aged and beyond childbearing years.

They prayed to all the Valar and the Aesir to be blessed with a child, after the first twenty years of their turbulent marriage, and then they appealed to Loki, God of Fire and Mischief, the Trickster, for whose son, Fenrir the Wolf, my father is named.

And who is also my mother's special patron, considering she is a Tookish witch.

That is why my name is Hela, that is the name of Loki's daughter, the Queen of the Underworld.

Their proof that I was a blessing, sent to them by the god my grandfather honored in naming all of his sons after Loki's?

I am getting to that.

My mother, Oleander Took, who is a practitioner of the psychic and healing arts, teaches school in the Shire.

We live on a homestead at the bottom of a hill, just to the west of Buckland, iin the Hills of Evendim.

There's a Hobbit hole, a barn, and a smithy, with a fence around the whole of it, to mark the lines of my father's property.

If you're coming from the Blue Mountains, then you're not too far once you cross the River Lune, just up the hill and down again, and there we'll be.

If you're coming from the Shire, then you're only a short journey, we are just west of Buckland.

And if you stand on the top of the hill into which my father built my mother her hobbit hole, you can see the Blue Mountains to the West and the Shire to the East.

On a clear day, you can even see Breeland in the distance.

My mother has taught school in the Shire for as long as I can remember, but since I was about 20, she has been staying in the Shire, rather than travelling every day for two or three hours to get to our homestead. She and my father get along a lot better since they only spend the summertime and holidays living together.

And most weekends.

She's a very grand and well–educated lady, even for a Took, so don't ask me why she married a half-mad Dwarf berserker, who was known as a jolly fellow, but one with a horrible temper even before the event that we do not even mention in his presence.

Mum is about four feet tall, and renowned, even at her age, for her great and oddly-undiminished beauty; if she was not a witch, people would accuse her of being one for that, alone.

She had black, curly hair, and very dark eyes that look black as a shark's when she is imperious or angry.

She could have married any Hobbit she chose, and probably any number of Dwarves, maybe even a man of Breeland, or so she tells me, but for reasons neither of them can fathom, she picked Da.

I think it was because he was the roughest, toughest, biggest, baddest blue-eyed son of an Orc's warg she could find.

Da?

Well, he's a Dwarf.

Dwarves, in general, don't think much of Hobbits.

Unless they are Tooks.

Dwarves have long memories, and there are a great deal of them still alive who recall fighting side by side with my great-grandfather Bullroarer Took, and his kin, against the goblin hordes.

Da was among them.

You name the battle since the coming of Smaug, and Da was in it.

He bit the wurm's tail in a Berserker rage, and swears that one of his teeth is yet imbedded in Smaug's tail.

He's about five foot two or three, tall for a Dwarf, and his body, particularly his massive shoulders and his equally massive chest, look as if they were cut from a slab of granite.

He can carry an anvil under either arm, casually, without breaking a sweat, and I once saw him casually pick up a man six feet tall with one hand, by his throat, and throw him through a window for accusing Mum of being a "Tookish Hedge witch".

Still, he claims when he was a young man, he was twice as strong.

He has a very bushy brown beard that likes to stick out of the three braids he keeps it in, and thick, bushy, curly brown hair that stands out all around his head like a lion's mane no matter what he tries to do with it.

It's shot through with grey, but not as much as you would think, for a man his age.

And in the middle of all this hair are his very keen and very wolfish blue eyes.

Neither of them actually are as awful as they sound when I describe them; they are both just a little eccentric, but then again, so am I.

As for me, I think I look like my father, but I've been told I'm nearly as pretty as my mother, but whereas she's very tiny and petite I'm built like Da, is, except you won't go mistaking me for a man.

If you like your women tall and willowy, you won't like me, because the only thing bigger than my arse and my hips are my tits, and my shoulders are as big as my hips are.

I can lift an anvil, easily, but I have to use both hands, and the biggest man I ever picked up and threw was about five foot six, but I once picked up two Dwarrows who were grown men, one in each hand and knocked their heads together and tossed them in opposite directions.

I am somewhere in the area of five feet tall, give or take an inch, and I think my face has a sort of impish, puckish, quality, despite having my father's Dwarven nose.

I also have his wolfish blue eyes.

But my hair is neither brown nor black, it is the color of fire.

It is not just red, but many hues of red, orange and gold, like a leaping flame.

Like Loki's.

My parents took that as a sign that I was a miracle, a gift of the gods, intended for Great Deeds.

We shall see about that, as I, myself, am not too sure.

Being half a Hobbit, I have very furry feet and very little beard, only a little downy goatee that I make into a tiny little braid that is only the thickness of a pencil and about as long as my longest finger.

Which has only just grown in.

And I have rather small hands, especially for a blacksmith, although it has never impeded me.

I am not as heavily tattooed as my father, but I have some Dwarrow knot tattoos on my biceps and my forearms, and calves, and on one side of each eye, my Berserker tattoos.

In his retirement from war, my father is a blacksmith; he is happiest, I think, when he is in his smithy.

I was his assistant until I was in my teens, but then he decided that I should learn his trade, so now we are both blacksmiths.

He did not teach me, himself, rather, in accepted Dwarf fashion he apprenticed me to a Master Blacksmith, for ten years.

Da had the good luck to have grown up with Thorin Oakenshield, himself; indeed, until his retirement, they were as close as Thorin is to his kin.

They caught up with each other in Bree, when I was about 14 or 15, and when I was 20, I found myself apprenticed to the King Under the Mounatin.

I did, however, get to spend Yuletide and the summer with my family, but I was otherwise abroad with my Master, learning my trade.

Ten years before the mast, we lived sometimes in luxury in the Blue Mountains or in some far-flung foreign court, but a good bit of it was in the wagon, on the road, or at some inn, ten years of hard work and hard labor, through thick and thin, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, winter and summer, there you could find me at Thorin's side, until the end of my apprenticeship did us part.

It is not uncommon for Dwarf women to take up a trade, especially when their fathers have no sons, and I am my parents only child.

As such, my father expects me to carry on the family tradition, and so although I had never been in in anything but a fistfight, before leaving home, he taught me, himself how to use a bow and arrow and an axe, his weapons of choice.

We drill on most days.

A responsibility my Master did not ignore.

My mother would rather I took up a gentler profession, like finding a husband, having some grandchildren and writing Tookish histories, as she professes that she will once she retires, but she is a Took, after all, and as long as she gets the son in law and the grandchildren, she doesn't mind if they come with a little bit of war, aforethought.

She has made sure I have had a lot of culture and learning, and I have spent a lot of happy hours under one of our big trees with a nice fat book.

Mum likes to remind people that I can speak, read, and write Khuzdul and Sindarin, as well as Westron, and that I have produced some written works of my own.

She tried to teach me to play the harpsichord, but I was never very good at it; the fiddle and the Pan pipes are my instruments, and Mum considers them crude, although she doesn't think it's so crude when I can pick up a little extra cash playing for people's parties, in the Shire.

In my parents' minds I might be Hela the Great, but they both suffer from just the smallest bit of megalomania, and a few minor delusions of grandeur.

The only problem is, I do, too.

Despite my humble origins, it has always been my desire to make Hela Took, the Fire Hammer, daughter of Fenrir the Berserk, a name known far and wide, from the Blue Mountains to the White Tower of Gondor and back again.

That is a desire I have mollified, lately, because sometimes my megalomania overtakes what is happening right in front of me, but still, I would not be choosy as to how I made my reputation, whether as a scholar, a blacksmith, or a great Berserker warrior.

Alas, despite having the marvelously ominous Berserker name "Fire-Hammer", I have not seen much of battle.

I have fought orcs in skirmishes, but not in any great battles, but, these days, the only war, though that I am likely to have is in Bree, where my father makes an appearance , once every three months, to stay for about a week, do some work for the local slope-necked yokels, and sell some of his wares.

I have quite a tradition to live up to, because my father, Fenrir the Berserk, is the brother of Vili and Vi, the Terrible Twins. Their father was Slepnir the Skull-Crusher, who was the son of Jormungrandr the Fearless.

All of them were Berserker warriors of great reknown, and all master smiths.

And all but my father died at the Battle of Azanulbizar.

After that, Da had quite a bit of trouble with his nerves.

We lived so far away from town because, after the Battle of Azanulbizar, ,he found that most things upset him to the point where he went berserk. But as long as we were in the cottage, or at the smithy, or even in the nearest town, or the parts of the Shire, where people knew him and he knew them, he was alright.

Now Da, he'll go to the Shire, to visit with Mum, and me, and go to the Green Dragon, but everyone knows its only a matter of time before he goes berserk.

It doesn't bother most Hobbits, anymore, crazy old Fenrir has been around for 55 or 60 years, and most of the time he's in a good humor and is rather a jolly Dwarf, and when he does go berserk, he foams at the mouth and shouts, and roars, but he destroys only things, not Hobbits.

But Da gets embarrassed and upset about it, though, not being able control his berserker rage, anymore, and then he goes home, and you can't get him to leave again for weeks, even months, sometimes.

But, as my mother reminds me almost constantly, you had to keep an eye on him, just to make sure.

Because he'd kill an Elf on sight, and if a man said a word the wrong way to him, he'd make him wish he hadn't.

When Mum is home, she does go on about how she wished she could live in the Shire with the rest of her Took relatives, and how three months when school was not in session was plenty of time to live with my crazy father in exile like and he ought to try harder and so on and so forth.

Well, I've been living in the Shire, three seasons out of the year for about five years, and I think Da would like to, but he just isn't very good with people.

Mind you, like most Dwarves, he has a love of gold; money makes him and my mother feel ever so much better and nicer, and Mum and I both think that if Da had just a little treasure of his own, one chest, even, he would settled down enough that he could live with people again.

Which would be good for Da, because he gets lonely.

That's what I keep hearing about.

Them needing a little something, for their old age.

That's the other great love Mum and Da have in common.

Money.

I'm not saying that I'm not fond of money, myself, especially since we've never had as much of it as say, Mum's cousin Bilbo.

But I wouldn't sell me down the mines for the sake of a few sacks of treasure, and they've gone out of their way to.

What I mean is, the only good thing about Mum and Da is that they are almost completely self-absorbed in their own crazy, so they hardly notice mine, considering how closely related it is to theirs.

And me, well, I'm their little investment.

Even if they can't get a return on me, yet, they can get a lot of work out of me.

They expect me home for the summer and for Yuletide and when I am, they get a whole year's worth of work out of me.

But, over the last winter I came up with a plan, a mad plan, a crazy, mad plan that any sane parents would veto in a moment if their son mentioned it to them, let alone their daughter.

Thank the God of Mischief whose children my father and all his close kin were named for, and Mahal who made my forefathers out of stubborn stone that both my parents were mad and greedy enough to think it was a wonderful idea.

In truth then, I suppose I would sell myself down the mines for a shot at a few whopping great sacks of treasure, not to mention that if this madman's quest is successful, then my name will go down in history.

If it is not, my companions and I will quite literally go out in a blaze of glory.

So I will pick up the story at the point where spring comes, and Oleander Took and Fenrir the Berserk bid their only daughter a fond farewell, for she, at 35, is now two years past the coming of age of her mother's people.

In case you were wondering about the years I spent serving under Master Thorin, yes, I will come to that, but I thought I'd begin with what you know, and then, once I had your curiosity, go back for what you didn't.

For I was determined to volunteer for the Company led by Fenrir's King-In-Exile, Thorin Oakenshield, both for the greater glory of the family, a proud dynasty of Berserker Dwarves, and in the hopes that I will get Mum and Da a cosy place to spend their old age in Erebor, where Fenrir spent his youth, or at least a few whopping great sacks of dragon treasure such that they can both retire to that lovely little place in Long Cleeve that they both have their eyes on.

Perhaps both.

We are a small family, after all, and if we do not look to feather our own nest, then no one is like to do it for us, are they?

But, Mum and Da are not the only ones with plans for Smaug's stolen treasure.

With most of the money I cobbled together in my ten years before the mast, I bought myself a nice piece of land in Hobbiton.

Right now, all that sits on it is my smithy; I live in two rooms with a bath down the hallway at the Green Dragon.

But I should like to build a barn and a Hobbit-hole of my own, with all that lovely treasure.

There was only one problem with my big plan.

Thorin specifically called only for Dwarrow men to answer his summons.

Probably to avoid me.

Well, two can play at that game.

Thorin was smart enough not to tell Kili exactly which day his Compnay would come to the Shire,but he did not recall that Gandalf the Grey is an old friend to all Tooks, and moreso to a Daughter of Loki, like my mother.

Gandalf told me the day and the time when he expected that the Company should begin to arrive.

That day, I hung a sign outside my smithy.

"Welcome fellow Dwarrows! All Swords and Axes sharpened free, to-day only. Edging of broken or chipped blades and Ponies shod half-price. By Master Blacksmith Hela Took."

Every Dwarf who came to answer Thorin's call came to my smithy.

They all knew me, every man among them, and I hadn't seen any of them but Kili and Fili in five years.

In particular I was glad to see Gloin and Oin, who I am closely related to; their mother and my father's mother were sisters.

Oin made a point of telling me as to how he had stopped to see his cousin Fenrir, and that they had discussed it amongst themselves, and as he was the oldest of my closest male relatives who would be present, at this dinner that he would make a point of taking up my grievance with Thorin, publicly.

Inddeed, at one point in the evening, I had them all there but Balin, Dwalin and Thorin.

I had so much work to do, I had to get Fili, to help me.

One and all every man Dwarf of them said they couldn't figure as to why Thorin was making an attempt to exclude me, and no man said he would regret having me along.

When I had done all their work I was commissioned to do, I sent them all on their way to Bag End.

It was dark, while I was cleaning up and preparing to close up shop, but I found that I had one last customer.

"You must have had a lot of work today, Hela, my girl, hanging a sign like that outside your shop. But I haven't come to make more for you."

"Oin means to call you out on the carpet, for breaking the promises you've made to me. He and Gloin and my father, they've had a nice long talk about it. So, the game is up with you, Master Thorin. You're up to your arse in warg shite." I told him

I had not seen hide nor hair of Thorin Oakenshield in five years, having not so much as a letter from him, and this was his first visit to my smithy.

I had a good idea of what Thorin had come for, and I wasn't having any of it.

"I have not broken any promises to you, girl. I have just not fulfilled them yet. Five years is not such a long time."

Well, that didn't half get my ginger temper up!

I picked up my hammer, and brandished it at Thorin.

I didn't intend to hit him with it, but if I did, well, he's got a hard head.

"Maybe not for you, old man! It was a Hel of a long time for me! Mind you, if you've come to tell me I'm not going with you, then you can roll all the way to Hell with your head up your arse, for I'm goin on this quest, by Thor's big brass bollocks, and I don't care what you have to say about it!"

Of course, Thorin thought it was funny.

"By your brass bollocks almost as big as his, girl! After five years, you greet me not with tears, but with your usual filthy fishwife mouth and sharp tongue, waving your hammer at me as if you're about to split my skull in two! I am glad of it. I would have been disappointed in you, apprentice, if the years had made you weaker and not stronger. I came here to ask you to honor your vows you made to me fifteen years ago, and join my Company. Not to tell you to pack up and go home."

That knocked me for a loop.

"No tricks, you old whoremaster? You haven't collected a small fee from the members of the Company who are not your close kin so that they can have a go with me, after we've been on the road without any women, for a time? Or am I only expected to service the immediate family. You and Dwalin, and Fili and Kili?"

Thorin drew himself up into the greatest height of his kingly majesty, to protest most mightily.

"You would not mind that last suggestion, so much, would you, girl? But I must protest—"

"Before you protest too much, Thorin, remember that winter in Rohan, when we were down to pocket change and our last wagon wheel, and you informed me that if we wanted to live, you'd have to peddle my arse, and judging from the way I looked at the blond burly giants of Rohan, I wouldn't suffer too much for it?"

"I did not follow through with it, though, did I?"

"No. But only because I refused."

"Refuse? You went Berserk on me! I'm lucky to have survived! And of course I am not taking you along for a whore for the company, for my close kin or any other Dwarf!"

"Just for yourself, then, Master Thorin? Let them all go chastely to their deaths, but if the King Under the Bed When the Husband Gets Home is to go to his date with dragon fire, then he'll face death without a drop of spunk left in his ten gallon bollocks, because he has brought along his red-headed whore? You can go service yourself, for I wouldn't have you if you had the last cock in all the Dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth!"

Oho, now we get down to business, for Thorin's blue eyes blazed with anger and indignation, and in his greatest height of kingly majesty he grabbed my hammer out of my hand and threw it aside like it was made of straw, grabbed me by the arm that held it and hauled my body right up close to his.

By the Gods, was I ready to eat those words I had just said!

"You have sworn vows to me that bind us more securely than marriage would! You belong to me, Hela, my girl, body and soul, and if I want you, I will have you, and you will be as glad of it now as you have ever been!"

His terrible frown melted into, at least for me, and even more terrible smile.

"I think you have grown an inch or two, these past five years. You may even have cracked five feet, my girl. And you have even gained and inch or two on top. Still wearing those tunics laced at the front, but I'll bet you've had to loosen that jerkin a little, to make more room."

And you can just guess where Thorin had the hand that wasn't on my arse, while he was admiring my full development into womanhood.

Well, I won't deny that I had been glad of it, in the past.

Nor will I tell you that it was an unpleasant thing, having my master caress my bosom and my backside.

And it would be a filthy lie if I was to say that Thorin in all his anger and his majesty wasn't more than enough to make me sorely want to go knees up and pull him down to the stone floor of the smithy to make good on his threats.

But I have my pride, don't I?

And also my rage.

And, close at hand, my dagger.

I summoned up all the force of my will, shoved him away, and pulled my dagger out of the sheath at my belt.

"Try it."

"What? You threaten me with weapons? What do you want me to do, girl? Take you right here, with my boots still on? You are lucky that I am already late, or I would! Finish closing your shop and make your final preparations to leave. This Baggins fellow is your kinsman, is he not? I'll be waiting for you, outside, and you can show me the way to go. And don't tempt me any further, or I'll drag you from your pony and we'll do it on the side of the road!"

I put my dagger away, having counted myself the winner of that round.

"How did you ever get food and supplies, that winter in Rohan, anyway?" I asked Thorin, as he stalked to the door.

"The women of Rohan were very kind to me, a poor traveling blacksmith, in my time of need during such a brutal winter." Thorin replied.

And he winked.

I thought about what he'd said, while we were on our way to Bagshot Row.

"Why is it that when a man lies with a woman one night and she fills his wagon with goods the next day, that only means he's one hell of a man, and she's giving him gifts for it, but when a woman lies with a man and he gives her money or gifts the next day, she's a whore?"

"Because women don't have to pay a man to lie with them. If they aren't grossly fat or incredibly ugly, all they have to do is ask. If they want to be doubly generous with him, if he's up against it, that's gracious of them. Men, on the other hand, are desperately stupid about fookin', and they'll pay the fattest, ugliest woman in the world in gold coins to lie with them, if she's the only woman around. Even the most handsome man, with the most perfect manners, who had the stamina of a bull and was hung like a donkey could never make a living depending on the graciousness of women, but any woman can make a living depending on the stupidity of a man with a full purse and a stiff cock."

"And you have explained this to Fili?" I replied.

"I never should have told him that I haven't paid a landlady in gold for a hundred years! He took it to heart!"

"Well, Fili can't help it that women love him, can he? And why shouldn't they? He's blond and blue eyed and handsome, and he's a prince. Not to mention, witty, charming, funny and good-natured. Why I've never met a Dwarf with such a good nature as Fili! I've known him for twenty years, and I' don't see how any woman of any race could resist him. Or why she would want to?"

Well, that got Thorin going.

"Durin's beard, girl, you haven't lain with Fili, too have you?"

I smiled, enigmatically.

"That's for me to know, Thorin, and for you to think about!"

By the time we got to Bag End, in Hobbiton, I could hardly find a place to hitch my pony up.

Thorin took the spot closest to the door, left just for him, of course, and it was twenty minutes of it was one before I went to the round green door of Bag End, and knocked.

Bilbo Baggins answered.

"Hela Took, the Fire-Hammer, daughter of Fenrir the Berserk. At your service." I said.

"At my what, Hela? Oh, yes, that's right, you are a Dwarf, too. Does my cousin Oleander know that you are going to be a party to this…adventure? Because I will send you straight home if she doesn't! I have no desire to make Oleander mad, whether she is a, well, a daughter of Loki, or not."

Cousin Bilbo was trying to find a nice way to say either witch or sorceress, neither of which are particularly nice things to call your cousin.

Even if they are true.

"She wasn't too glad to hear it, but Da convinced her. I mean they both do want me to make my own way in the world. "

"I know what Oleander wants. She wants your suitor to get enough money together so you two can marry, and she can have some grandchildren."

"She does. And at the rate I'm going, I won't have enough money to build a Hobbit hole of my own until I'm her age. I could use a windfall, too."

"Well, at least you're family, Hela. So you had better come in. I'll find a place for you. Alright, fellows, make room. We have another guest, my cousin is here."

I walked over to the table and every Dwarf at it stood up.

After all there are not a great deal of Dwarf women, so Dwarf men go out of their way to be respectful of them.

I decided to go out of my way to be respectful, as well.

"What have you been doing out there, Hela, my girl? Come and have your dinner, before there's nothing left. Fili, Kili, make some room for Hela, and get another chair!" Thorin ordered

I wish you could have seen the look on his face when I went to my Master, at the head of the table, removed my bow from my back and my axe from my belt, laid them on the floor at his feet, and knelt on one knee before him.

I lowered my hood and bowed my head.

"Hela Took, the Fire Hammer, daughter of Fenrir the Berserk, at your service, Master Thorin."

I raised only my eyes, and they met with Thorin Oakenshield's.

The haughty mask of kingly control that my Master commonly wears slipped a bit, when he saw his apprentice kneeling before him, and for a moment he was just another dirty old man, having a moment of naughty nostalgia.

It was a brief moment, but it lasted long enough for every eye in the room to see it.

That was good enough for me.

Still, Master Thorin recovered his magisterial air quite quickly.

"You cannot be late when I have brought you to this place, myself, my Apprentice." He solemnly pronounced.

"Master Thorin, I have tidings from my father to his king. Fenrir the Berserk regrets that he can't come on this quest, as something as little as being bitten by a mosquito makes him go berserk, and he's still in the habit of killing Elves. On sight. He has sent me, in his stead. To satisfy the honor of our family. For my own part, I come to you because you are my Master, and I am bound to you by my honor, as a Dwarf and a blacksmith, and by the vows I have made to you, not to mention the ten years I spent proving to you that these were not just words to me. I accept the honor you have offered me, to take up this quest at your side, to die at your side, in your service, if that is my fate."

And the whole time I spoke, I remained on one knee, my eyes on Bilbo's spotless floor.

I had him over a barrel, there, I did.

"So, it's only your honor, and your vows. You're not interested in a share of the treasure, then?"

"Of course I am. Every Dwarf in this room is interested in the treasure. But that doesn't make it any less a matter of my honor. In fact, I have less of a stake than you do, Master. I intend to take my share and come back here, marry my fiancé, and get on with my life. You can have the whole mountain and everything in it. I only want what's mine, by rights."

"You do have a debt of honor to Hela, Uncle." Fili pointed out.

"This coming from a man with a mistress and three children, but no wife!"

"I may not have married Marigold, but all my children know their father well, and they know that he has provided for them. My honor is satisfied." Fili replied.

"Oho, so you're that Fili! You know one of my sisters is Marigold Brandybuck's mother. Ivy and Holly and Fili, they are my little nieces and nephew! Well, that makes me feel a bit better about having you and your kin and your Uncle's people in my house, I'm sure." Bilbo interrupted.

"Cousin Bilbo, my knees are getting tired."

"Well, get up off the floor, Hela."

"Yes, girl, get up from the floor! I hardly recognize my apprentice, kneeling at my feet! Don't you think you're layin' it on a bit thick?"

I elicited a sarcastic laugh from the King in Exile.

By now I was only sitting on the floor at his feet, not kneeling.

"Is this the daughter of Fenrir the Berserk, who, while foaming at the mouth, took a bite out of the worm Smaug on his way fleeing from Erebor? Who killed a hundred orcs if he killed one with his bare hands after his axe and sword were broken at the Battle of Azanulbizar? And I don't have all night to recount your own berserker deeds. Well, Hela, you'll be far more useful than your Hobbit cousin. Now, get up off the floor, girl. I know you better than that! As if you were a humble little lady who never gave her Master a minute of trouble in 10 years. You wouldn't want to start what might be your final journey with a whopper of a fookin' lie, like that!"

I got off the floor.

"As you wish, Master Thorin."'

"Nonetheless, Thorin, while Fili has raised the subject, Gloin and I met with our cousin, Fenrir, on our way here, and we all recall you having made certain promises to our Hela. Promises that you have not kept." Oin interjected.

"Promises I have not kept, yet, Oin. Promises I had always intended to keep, but only upon the fulfillment of this quest."

"I think Oin is trying to say that you might have made your intent a bit clearer, Thorin. Your apprentice has had some trouble, these past five years, considering she did not know quite how to represent the nature of your promises to our people." Balin tactfully interjected.

"And Kili has seen to it that those problems were resolved. Now, that's settled, we can move on to the question of our burglar." Thorin replied.

"Wait a moment, Thorin. I think I ought to have a say, in the matter." Gandalf interrupted.

He looked at me.

"How old are you, Hela Took, the Fire Hammer?" he asked me.

I had just sat down, in the space Fili and Kili made between them.

"But Gandalf, you know that. You put on the fireworks at my 33rd birthday party!"

"Just answer the question, and, none of your Tookish lip!"

"I am thirty and five." I answered.

"I see. And how old were you when your father apprenticed you to Thorin Oakenshield to learn blacksmithing?"

"Twenty."

I suddenly realized what Gandalf was trying to do.

Apply a little guilt, and set a fire under Thorin's feet.

"I went straight from my father's homestead, in the Hills of Evendim, to Thorin's Halls." I added.

Dori looked into his plate, shaking his head, and Oin said something to Gloin that made him nod, sadly.

Bifur turned to Bofur and spoke, too.

"No, I had no idea Hela was that young! Why she's still more'n a little wet behind the ears! Don't you think, Thorin, you ought to've left the baby in the cradle a bit longer, then?" Bofur chuckled.

Gandalf gave Thorin a dirty look, and shook his head.

"Twenty? And you were his apprentice for ten years?"

"Yes, sir. I spent the summers and Yuletide with my family, but the rest of those ten years I served under Master Thorin."

Bofur laughed so hard that beer shot out of his nose.

Gandalf gave Thorin an even dirtier look.

"I see. well, on one hand, I see no reason to turn the young lady away. If she is of age by the reckoning of her mother's people, then let her begin to make her name, in the wide world. On the other, Thorin, do you think it wise to take a young unmarried girl on a journey with so many men? None of whom are, at the very least, her fiancé, let alone her husband?" He asked.

"Now see, here, Gandalf, I think that's a rude thing to say! I mean, what kind of fellows are these? If they are those sort, then I will stay in Hobbiton, and so will you, Hela!" Bilbo protested.

"I just want to know if she is spoken for, Bilbo. This is the kind of thing that spoils a woman's reputation, and Hela is the Shire's only Master Blacksmith."

Kili stood up.

"Hela has a fiancé. Me. We are all but married. I would have married her, already, but I am not yet of age. We have had our braiding ceremony, before Dain, son of Nain, King of the Iron Hills, and our promise to marry each other is binding under Dwarven law, as binding as marriage, and like marriage, and cannot be severed, without just cause. I speak for her." He said.

Thorin stood up, too.

"Gandalf, you do us a great disservice in front of our burglar, to make him think that once we are on the Great East Road we will all be chasing his kinswoman around our campfire! These are Dwarrows of honor, they are the kind of fellows who respect their king enough not to dishonor his apprentice!" he protested.

"Oh, is that what they're calling it now, Thorin? That's as much as you're going to get out of him, Hela, until his boots are consumed with dragon fire and his pants are catching!" Bofur interjected.

He got a very big laugh.

"Wait a minute, now, Master Gandalf. She may not be known to you, but all of us here know Hela. My brother and I, and Thorin, himself, and Gloin and Oin and Nori and Dori, indeed all the company, we all know Fenrir, and his four late brothers. Fenrir is kin to Oin and Gloin. And Hela is of Durin's folk, promised to Kili, nephew of Thorin. We are Dwarves of honor. We will not behave like animals!" Balin huffed.

"We won't. Thorin might." Nori interjected.

"He always has been, in the past." I commented, under my breath.

"Come down to this end of the table, Nori, and say that, again!" Thorin threatened.

"And you tell me, , that disrespect is no way to convince a Dwarf woman to be your wife? Well I've got two wives. One in New Belegost and one in the Iron Hills, and while that might not be strictly fookin' legal, when I've promised a woman marriage I've followed through with it!" Nori defended himself.

"Not to mention disrespecting a Dwarven lady is a very good way to get a battle-axe through your head." Bofur interjected.

"I wasn't going to put an axe through his head. Just my fist." I said.

"Nonetheless, as Kili himself has pointed out, he is not of age. Will you, Thorin Oakenshield, be personally responsible for the young lady? Do you speak for her?" Gandalf demanded.

"I am the Chieftain of this Company. She was my Apprentice, I swore to Fenrir fifteen years ago that I would teach the girl our trade, and take reponsibility for her. I swore vows to her, and she to me that are as binding, if not more, than marriage vows. And I am bound by them, as her Master, until she leaves her father's house, and marries. Certainly, I will make it my responsibility that no harm comes to Hela, or to her good name and the good name of her father,and her two cousins. Of course I speak for the girl! What kind of a man do you suppose I am?" Thorin pronounced, with great majesty.

"What kind of a man, indeed? The kind of man who takes a friend's daughter as his apprentice, promises her to his nephew, then screws her when she's too young to know any better, and he knows she and the boy are involved, then tops it off by leaving her flat at the end of her apprenticeship, after he has publicly promised marriage, in front of all her mother's and father's kin! But you know Thorin, brother. I would not say too much against him, for he's a fine man, a great warrior, and a great king, but he has never learned how to treat a decent woman! If there is a bigger whoremaster and heartbreaker in Middle Earth, than our Thorin, I've never known of him." Oin said to Gloin.

I think he thought he was whispering.

To his credit, Thorin did not even flinch.

"Are you satisfied, Gandalf?" he asked.

"Yes. I am."

"Then it is settled." Thorin pronounced.

"And try whispering a little quieter, next time, Oin!" he added.

"You can at least give my kinswoman a double share of treasure, to compensate for the damage done to her reputation, when you didn't immediately follow through on your promise!" Oin insisted.

"Did you tell every Dwarf on Mahal's Green Earth, Hela?" Thorin insisted.

"No, Uncle. You did. At Hela's party to celebrate her gaining her Mastery, you drank an entire keg of dark Gondorian ale, and stood up on a table and made an announcement that when Kili stood as Hela's groom, you would be standing beside her, already, as her husband. In front of every Took on God's Green Earth, Hela's parents, and most of the Dwarves in this room." Fili reminded him.

"Mahal take me! I'll give you three shares of treasure, Hela."

"Kili and I mean to be married, in the Shire, where he's of age to marry, as soon as we return to the West. Will you pay for Kili's and my wedding? In full?" I asked.

"You drive a hard bargain, girl! At this rate it would be cheaper to keep my promise! I never said I would not."

"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, I wouldn't marry you if you had the last—"

Bilbo interrupted me with a plate of food and a mug of ale.

"Here you are, Hela. I got a plate together for you. You really ought to eat something, if you've been working all day."

So, I managed to get some dinner in.


After dinner, Thorin gave me an imperious look, and motioned for me to walk outdoors with him.

Well I did fancy a smoke under the stars, so I went.

"You did that deliberately, girl!"

"So what if I did? Whatever you agreed to give me, I deserve it."

"You deserve for me to turn you over my knee and spank you!"

Thorin laughed, at the thought, and put his hand under my chin, and tickled me a little, and then ran one of his fingers down my wispy little goatee.

"What's this? You call this a beard? You might as well shave it off. You've got more hair on your toes! Little Hela and her downy little wisp of a ginger beard. When did you ever grow your beard?"

"Well, I started getting a little fuzz two years ago, when I came of age. But my beard, it started coming in right around Yuletide. It grew this much in a week, too. But, considering that this is all it has grown in, I think it's all the beard I'm likely to get. But, it's better than nothing."

"Much better. I don't fancy a woman who's beard is rough and coarse and bushy, like a man's...two years since you came of age. And five, since your apprenticeship ended. Has it really been that long..."

Well, I knew the dirty old bird well enough to know what was coming, next, and I know myself well enough, too.

He had tried it once, this night, and saw that his advances weren't exactly unwelcome, and now he was having another go.

Well, he wasn't going to get away, so easily.

I got my pipe out and backed a step or two away.

"Let's not be so hasty, Thorin. Not when I haven't yet seen a penny out of you, for all my trouble. Your purse looks as heavy with gold as mine is empty. Balance that out, and then we can negotiate a truce." I said.

"Durin's short and curly second beard, girl, haven't you got a sentimental bone in your body?"

"No! And considering that a greedy, vengeful, foul-mouthed, warmongering, dirty old whoremaster like you isn't likely to put one there, I don't think I'll have such a thing, any time soon! Besides, you don't need an excuse, Master. I was young, and pretty and hot-blooded, and you only did what any dirty son of an orc's warg like you, would. After all, my apprenticeship was ended. Despite what my father and Oin and Gloin think, there were only words between us, Thorin, and nothing more. I am promised to Kili, there are more than words between us. I don't hold you to your drunken promises."

"Damn it girl, unsentimental is one thing, but you don't have to be so fookin' cold-blooded!"

"What else should I be, with you, Master Thorin? When I was you apprentice, I might as well have been your dog! Or a pair of boots. I served you faithfully, and even if I did not take to your every command without protest, I took to them! All of them! Even the ones that put me on my back, or on my knees! And I was rewarded for my service the way a cruel master rewards an old dog! No, that's not true. Even a cruel master has the decency to put down and old dog! You made a lot of talk about an unbreakable bond, and promised me marriage, but when my apprenticeship was up, well, you threw me away like an old pair of shoes! I am fortunate that Kili forgave me, for serving my master too well, or I'd be in a sad state!"

"Do you think I intended to abandon you, completely, Hela, my girl?" Thorin demanded.

"Yes, you old whoremaster, and no matter what kind of fine fancy words you use to make it wound like you didn't, you already did abandon me, completely!"

I stalked back into the house, where I ran into Fili, who was jolly and drunk, and Kili, who was worried and drunk.

"What was that all about? Is Uncle Thorin finally going to behave like, well, like a gentleman to you, or are the two of you just going to bicker and fight through our entire journey?" Kili asked me.

"When have your Uncle and I not bickered and fought, when we are in close quarters?"

"You don't take it as lightly as you want us to believe." Kili complained.

"You had a five year reprieve, from their bickering, little brother." Fili interjected.

"Too short, by far!"

"You ought to get on your hind legs and kick a little, Kili. If Hela was my girl, I would."

"Why should I? I know which one of us has Hela's heart, and I have known, for twenty years, not fifteen. There is no one on this Earth, save you and our Uncle that I am closer to than Hela. How can I then, be jealous of my own Uncle? Especially when Hela's heart is that last part of her that interests him. And I hate to say it, because I mean Uncle no disrespect, but I do not think he made his promises in earnest." Kili replied.

Now Fili laughed in earnest.

"Hela's heart? Her heart, Kili? By Mahal's shorter and curlier beard, if such a thing had not turned to a lump of rock beneath those stupendous tits of hers, then Hela's heart is blacker than midnight in the mines of Moria! It's not her heart she loves you with, Kili, you want to look a little lower!"he said.

I wished that Fili hadn't made his drunken little joke, because whereas it is true that I have little use for love, seeing how well it made Mum and Da's lives turn out, Kili is a prfoundly romantic man, and loves me with a far truer and greater depth of feeling than I deserve.

As for me, I have known Kili, as my very best, closest, and dearest friend, and as a woman knows a man, for twenty years, and if my black little shut-up stony heart would open enough to love any man, then it would be Kili.

I was not a happy woman when my Master cast me out like I was an unclean thing, and though I would never admit it to Thorin, I was shattered.

Not for the reasons you think, either.

Kili steadfastly stayed by my side, uncaring about the whispers in the Blue Mountains that he had been cuckolded by his Uncle, and that I was Thorin's red-headed whore, no longer fit for marriage to the lowest miner.

He risked my father's wrath and my mother's disdain that he was only a prince and not the king, to come to our homestead and formally ask for my hand, on one knee, declaring his undying love.

Just when it seemed that my father's people had judged me to be only Thorin's red-headed whore, no longer fit for marriage to the lowest miner, disgraced and ruined, my ten years of hard work wasted, Kili gave me my braiding ceremony, with King Dain, himself, as our witness, and made of me not just an honest woman, but very nearly a princess.

I have Kili to thank that I have any honor at all, and without honor, I wouldn't have my position in the Shire as blacksmith, or my land, or my smithy.

I wish I could love him, the way he does me.

Though my blood is hot, my heart is cold to even the thought of love.

For I have heard for 35 years from my battling parents that it was love that brought them together, and love that binds them, and keeps them together.

If that is love's work, I want no part of it.

But I knew that Fili's words wounded Kili, and I hated to see him wounded.

"You know less about love or a woman's heart than any Dwarf, Man or Elf in Middle Earth, Fili! Well, you can't get to the Lonely Mountain on your big, swinging cock, so I'm looking forward to seeing how you'll get by!" I retorted.

Fili just laughed again.

"That depends on whether or not we stop in Rivendell. Elf men are beautiful and cold, and their women, though beautiful, are anything but frigid, for it!"

I heard Thorin in Bilbo's dining room, calling for me.

"He thinks he's got me over a barrel! That shows what he knows! I'll slip out and ride back to the Green Dragon, and come back here at first light. After everyone's gone to sleep, Kili, maybe you can sneak away."

"Good idea." Kili agreed.


Oh, I thought I was a clever girl, but when I got to the Green Dragon, I found my door to my rooms unlocked.

There was a fire burning in my hearth, and the kettle was on.

And sitting in one of my two chairs, by the window, in just his tunic and breeches, smoking his pipe, was Thorin Oakenshield.

"I'm expecting Kili, in a little while, my King, so you had better make yourself scarce."

"I will go after I have said what I have come to say. Did you suppose that your Master would not know that your room at the inn overlooked your smithy? Or that the good Hobbits who gave you your position because you learned your trade from Master Thorin, who fought the goblins with Bullroarer Took, wouldn't tell me? That Oleander's brother, Dagobert, wouldn't let me into your rooms?"

I pulled up a chair next to Thorin, and he passed his pipe to me.

One thing about the Lord of New Belegost, he doesn't smoke cheap pipeweed.

"You can't fault me for trying."

"You have tried hard, Hela, and done well for yourself, in these years I have kept my distance so you might establish yourself. I had not abandoned, you, lass, as you and Oin think I have."

"You might have at least written to me, Thorin. Or met with me, even once. But if that's the way you've cast this matter in your lordly mind, then far be it for me to try and change it."

I passed the pipe back to Thorin.

"You bought yourself a fine piece of land to build on, Hela. That shack by your smithy, someday that shall be your barn. And in the corner of the parcel, in the hillside, you'll build your Hobbit hole. And a garden off to the side, with a path and a fence and a bench, like cousin Bilbo's. And a fine smithy made of stones from the River Lune. A fine homestead for you and Kili, with room for him to build another barn, to make his pelts and tan his hides. Maybe even enough left over for a few sacks of booty for Mum and Da? Is that really all you dream of, Hela, the Fire-Hammer? As not just a Dwarf and a Berserker, but as a Took?" he asked.

"No." was all I said.

Thorin passed me back the pipe.

"I am glad to hear it. Not that I think you should not build on your land. But a young woman only 35, who will not be able to legally marry her fiancé until another 35 years have gone by, should have better dreams that that. I know you, Hela Took. I know what you have dreamed of, all your life."

Thorin got up out of the chair, and stood over me, looking down his nose at me.

From his great height of kingly majesty, again.

"You have dreamed that you should be at my side, when I take the Lonely Mountain back, just as your father fought at my side when the dragon came, and after. Why should you settle for this, only, when you and your father might live as you were meant to, as Dwarves Under the Mountain? You as great and terrible a warrior as he, and as great and terrible a hero, with Kili for one of your husbands and me for the other, and the crown of the greatest Dwarf-kingdom in all Middle Earth on your head. With your feet up to their ankles in a river of gold. You deserve no less, daughter of Loki. For the gods of the Aesir, themselves, have marked you for great things. Never forget who you are, Hela, my girl. Not just a Dwarf, but a Berserker, of Durin's folk. Not just a Hobbit, but a Took."

And he caught me off guard, the wily old bastard did, and lifted me out of my chair and held me so close to his body that neither of us might as well have worn any clothes, and kissed the breath from my body.

"Never forget that you may marry my nephew, the love of your girlhood, but woman, you belong to me!" Thorin growled.

He let me go, and I fell back into my chair, so completely unmanned that I hadn't wit to make any reply.

So, that was one victory for Thorin and one for me, a fine way to start our quest.

And I had not rolled over for him as if I was his red-headed whore.

One thing though, I had not done after the long day's work was bathe, so I went down the hall to have my bath, and when I got back to my room fresh from it, my prince had come.

Thorin had left his pipe there, in his haste, and Kili's clothes were hung over a chair and his boots were under it.

He was lying across my bed, as naked as I was under my dressing gown, with his arms folded behind his head, smoking Thorin's pipe and grinning as if he had the world by the arse.

I locked my door, lodged the other chair in front of it, and hung my towel over the back.

"Who's afraid of the big bad warg, tonight? Not I, and for all his kingly majesty, tonight Uncle will have to listen to Bombur snore, kipped on one of your cousin's floors, while I have you, and his pipe, and his tobacco, and a warm bed to sleep in!"

"Kili, you have a fair share of princely majesty, yourself. And when you win, I win! So that's two for me and one for Thorin, an even better way to begin our quest!"

"I've got two for you, Hela, maybe even three! My love for you gives me the strength of ten men! As so does your beauty. Whenever we have been parted a long time, I am amazed each time I see you, at your beauty, my Hela, of your body and your soul."

"I don't know who you see when you look at me, Kili."

"I see the girl I've loved since I was a boy."

Kili pulled me into the bed and took me in his arms.

"I see the only woman in the world, for, to me, there are no others. Only you. The only woman I have ever loved, the only lover I have ever had, the only one I will ever need. The day I met you, you set a fire in me that burns brighter and hotter every day. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Hela, only for a moment. If you could, you would never disparage yourself like that, again."

Kili's father was a great poet, so great that his works are read by Elves and Men as well as Dwarves.

And though his looks and his height and build and feckless warrior's heart came from Thorin, through Kili's mother, Thorin's sister, my Kili had the soul of a poet, like his father before him.

That night, in that room, for that moment, I very nearly loved him.

And I made sure to tell him so.


"You would have words with me, Kili lad, before we depart?"

Kili finished closing his saddlebags, without looking at his Uncle.

"You'll think me disrespectful, Uncle."

"I might. But if you have something you'll need to say, you had better fookin' say it now, lad. After all, you may not quite be a man, but you are not a boy, anymore. Out with it."

Thorin was surprised the way Kili turned around, and looked him straight in the eye.

"I have held my tongue for five years, Thorin. Are you sure you wouldn't rather I kept this to meself?"

"I'm sure. In fact, I'm sure I deserve it."

"I can't believe the way you've treated Hela! She has a heart, though she pretends not to, and you shattered it! You had no right, from the start, to take her, whether she wanted you to, or not, and you had no reason, after she was faithful and loyal to you for ten years to throw her away! You are the only father I've ever known, and though I've lost none of my love for you, Thorin, I have lost much of the respect I've had for you, if not as a king, then as a man, who ought to have the common decency a miner has, let alone a king! Hela Took is practically my wife, she's not your red-headed whore! So, unless you intend to make good on your promise that we will both be her bridegroom on her wedding day, then you had better keep your hands out from under her kilt! It's a bad business when a son has to raise his fist to his father, but I'll do it, even if you break my arm for it, by Mahal's forge, I will!"

Thorin put both his hands on Kili's shoulders.

"I was wrong, Kili. You may be a lad, but you're not a boy, anymore at all! So I will talk to you, as one man does to another. I love her as much as you do, Kili. And that is why I left her alone. But I have thought on it, these past five years, and though I am unfit, not as a King, but as a man, to be a good husband to any woman, I can find no way around it. On one hand, I cannot break my promise, or take back the vows I made to Hela. On the other, I have done her wrong, and shattered her heart, and I fear the only feelings she has left for this miserable old bastard are anger and lust. But if I am her King, and my word means a damn thing, then I have to try and win her back. And were you not as my own son, I would knock your teeth out of your jaw, even for repeating that Hela is my red-headed whore. I have heard that from others of our race, and all of them have had to make do with a few less teeth after they said it."

Kili smiled, genuinely, like a great weight came off of his shoulders.

"Do you want me to try and convince her that you want to make amends?"

"That's up to me, Kili, lad. Have you had your say, then?"

"I have."

"Good. I'm glad we spoke of the oliphaunt in the dining hall, before it had a shite all over our quest. Where's your brother?"

"At the magistrate's office, with Marigold and his three children. He's getting married, and having their names appended, formally, so they can be called daughters and son of Fili."

Thorin laughed, uproariously.

"Durin's beard, he does think he's going to die! He'll regret this after we take the Lonely Mountain, but it's about time! Still, I don't think he'll keep to the vow to forsake all others."

"But Uncle, this means Fili's son is no longer a bastard. Which means he's Fili's heir. And Fili the Younger is half-Hobbit. Won't that make trouble for us?"

"Marigold Brandybuck's mother is a Took. And all the Brandybucks have Tookish blood, one way, or the other. Fili's son isn't half a Hobbit, he's half a Took. That will make all the difference. Why do you think I allowed Gandalf's Mr. Baggins to be our burglar? When you're up against it, Kili lad, and the situation seems next to fookin' hopeless, it's better to have a Took at your side than a cave troll with a catapult full of flaming wargshite. Don't ever forget that."