Chapter 1

The year 2945, four years post Smaug's demise.

Bren thought the lands thereabouts were cold and inhospitable as she breathed in a swirl of chilly air whilst she sat astride the fidgety pony. The land was only now beginning to regain a small portion of life over its vast plains as green shoots and shrubs sprouted up here and there. A smattering of emerald grass blades coated much of the barren dirt.

The region surrounding the Lonely Mountain was indeed taking quite some time to recover from the dragon's fire, the curse upon those flames having been removed with the drake's death some four years before. Bren thought it would all have been quite a dreary sight then if what it was now was any comparison. The dwarrowdam narrowed her eyes for a moment and imagined all the land in her vision as blackened and burnt, with a thick coating of soft grey ash solidifying like a blanket made from stone.

Smiling grimly to herself Bren turned and looked over the three wagons that trundled along the rutted road that was really more of a track. The first, she knew, held the Lord Bragen, his Lady wife Miffe along their daughter Mheren who was all fair hair and perfect beauty.

Then there was the eldest child Bradun who was strong and bold, with Madlur and Badlur the twin troublemakers who were more affectionately known as Mad and Bad within the confines of their household. The wagons had stopped for a moment as the family all craned for a look at the fabled and newly reclaimed Erebor, greatest of the dwarf kingdoms of middle earth.

The other two wagons were filled with bits and pieces from their life in the Iron Hills, though mostly they contained fine dresses for the young Lady Mheren who was being forced into a marriage with a dwarf who was over twice her age; old enough to be her father and the King to boot. Bren knew why the council in Erebor had chosen Mheren, of all the dwarrowdams in middle earth. Firstly, she was charismatic, reserved when she wished and easy on the eyes.

Then there was her father's control of most of the iron mines in the Iron Hills. He was very rich and very influential; something the council in Erebor would have been looking for in the future queen's father in regards to diplomatic opportunity.

Perhaps just as importantly though was her age; to optimise the chance that an heir would be produced, the new queen would have to be young and fertile, but not too young as for it to be wholly improper. Bren wondered if the dwarves involved in making the match had bred dogs or horses at some point.

Bren turned her mind away from its wandering and watched as the wagons slowly began to trundle along once again, the stout little horses pushing away at the harnesses. Bren shot a quick glance at the looming mountain that managed to leave her feeling wholly unimpressed and snorted to herself, wondering why the heck this mountain, even with all its gold and treasures, was so special that a handful of dwarves would contest a dragon for it. The dwarrowdam couldn't help but wonder if all the dwarves in Erebor were quite so brave and stupid. Perhaps she would fit in a little better if they were.

Huffing as her pony jigged in place and thrashed its feet against the ground Bren urged on the shaggy little beast, cantering to her place just behind the lead wagon containing the family, her pack and weapons bouncing as the pony pranced about impatiently. She wouldn't put it past the animal to be sensing the journey's end and the long-awaited respite that comes with such a thing.

They carried on; all privately excited by the rest that was promised when they finally alighted from their transport. The wagons, their occupants, their guards and Bren followed the road that led them around the far outskirts of Dale rather than through the city of men. The road grew smoother and better maintained as the travellers got closer to main gates of Erebor. Enormous, carved dwarf soldiers loomed over them, maintaining an eternal vigilance over their kingdom and its occupants. Not that they had done much good when a dragon came bursting in through the front door, Bren thought humourlessly.

She shivered as she passed into the shadow of the great balcony that hung overhead, unprepared for the undoubtedly lengthy underground stay she was about to be subjected to. She wouldn't be there at all if it weren't for Mheren who had sent a letter saying that she wouldn't be getting married at all if Bren wasn't by her side. Bren, knowing she'd probably be executed by Lady Miffe if that came to occur, forced herself to smile and tag along if only for a while. In a number of weeks Mheren would be wed, and then Bren could leave again as she always had.

The pony she was riding bounced about crazily as they moved through the great gates of the kingdom, throwing its head in disproval of going underground. Bren couldn't blame it; she would much rather sleep under the sky on a bed of thorns than spend her life shut up in rocky halls such as this.

Bren had to admit though that the dwarves here were industrious folk; there was no sign that a dragon had ever passed through those mighty gates, shattering them. Nor was there any reminder of the occasion in any of the stone work inside. It was as though every sign that the dragon had ever occupied those halls had been done away with. The stone work itself was exquisite, everything carved and perfectly geometrical, more elaborate than any Bren had seen before.

Bren didn't like it though; everything was too dark, too angular. She had spent much of her life surrounded by nature, and it certainly showed in her tastes which were decidedly regarded as un-dwarf like.

But she pulled her pony to a rocky halt beside the first carriage as it stopped and sat astride proudly as a servant ran to open the door for the occupants. There was a disturbance in the crowd that had gathered and Bren's eyes shot over to it, an important looking dwarf and a small entourage of guards striding towards them.

"My Lord Bragen!" The stout dwarf with his snowy white beard called, bowing before approaching the Lord and the two clasped forearms.

"Lord Balin," was the gruff reply, though it was obvious to Bren that Bragen was happy to see this Balin.

"His Majesty wishes to see you and your family as soon as you are prepared," The elderly dwarf told Lord Bragen with a small smile on his face. Bragen nodded and cast a glance at his family who were all done in their finest and looking immaculate. Then he shot a look at Bren who was in travel stained clothing with her weapons strapped to her but looking amicable as ever. She grinned slightly with a nod and Bragen turned back to Balin.

"We are ready now," he said and Balin nodded with another smile.

With a groan Bren swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to one of the guards who had accompanied them. She discretely pulled her breeches out of unsavoury areas and pushed a little of her filthy hair out of her face. Then she walked over to Lord Bragen and his family, taking her place beside Mheren who smiled at her gratefully. Balin shot her a strange look, as though wondering why she would be accompanying such a well to do family, but said nothing. Bren ignored him; she had grown used to those looks long ago.

Balin led the way down a couple of wide, bustling corridors and halls before pausing before a large door made of dark stone and embossed with gold. He let a glance trail over the assembled travellers, lingering for a moment on Mheren who had donned a veil that covered all but her eyes. She was still pretty with it, her jade coloured eyes glistening brightly against her pale skin and fair hair. She wore a pale pink dress that bought out the tones in her skin beautifully.

Mheren looked marvellous as always, almost painfully so, but in Bren's mind she was still too young to be truly beautiful, particularly in regards to males. But she did look like she could walk straight in there and sit herself down beside the king like she had always been there, like she had always been queen.

She was nervous though, that much was evident to see. Her eyes were slightly too wide, her brow marginally creased, her hands refused to sit still and a miniscule bead of sweat was blossoming on her forehead. It was all only noticeable both because Bren had known Mheren since before she was born and because the two of them were standing in such close proximity. Bren could see her eyelashes quivering.

Bren reached out and took Mheren's hand discretely in her own, hoping no dirt rubbed off the thick leather of her gloves and onto Mheren's dainty hands, and gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing. Mheren shot her a grateful look, unconsciously comforted just by Bren's constant, powerful presence.

She loved Bren to bits. The older dwarrowdam was somewhat of an enigma to Mheren, even though she had known her all of her life. Bren had even been there when she was born, and her other sibling's too. The adventurous maiden spent little time with their family but always seemed to reappear just when she was needed or desired most, only to disappear just as rapidly once she was no longer required. Mheren had a feeling she would hang around if only it wasn't for her mother the Lady Miffe who had made it abundantly clear that Bren was no longer welcome around their family for any length of time, since apparently she couldn't get rid of her on a more permanent basis.

The doors opened before them and Mheren tilted her chin a little higher, masking her nerves behind a façade of cool indifference. Then they entered; Lord Bragen at their head, his wife beside him but a step behind. Then Bradun walked tall behind his aging father, a fine specimen of a young dwarf lad. Madlur and Badlur followed, for once not bouncing in exuberance. The only way to tell the difference was to examine their short beards; Madlur's was not so thick and harsh like her twin brother's.

Then it was Mheren's turn and stepped proudly though daintily. Bren followed a full step behind and Mheren imagined she must have looked quite the misfit among them. She must have looked very dark among their fair family, with her dark hair and her filthy, leather coat and travelling clothes as well as the sword hung at her hip and her various knives, some not so apparent as others. The rest of them were dressed in their finest, sea green mostly, though her mother was in a deep blood red. All of them had fair silky blonde hair done in elaborate braids and knots as befitted their status. Bren's hair was dark red like dried blood and hung loose for the most part save a thick braid that knotted at the back of her head. Her eyes, sharp cobalt blue, darted around and watched everything.

Mheren thought the walk towards the throne awfully long and tedious, since she could see little past the heads of her family. She longed to know what the king looked like. Secretly she was afraid of what he would be like, though she tried her utmost not to show it. Bren was the only one she had told. She had been told that the king was older, though not quite as old as her own father who was quite the venerable dwarf nowadays, and that he was moody, broody and cantankerous. A large part of her feared that she would be wedded to him bedded by him and then kept locked away until required as a figurehead.

But that was her duty, she supposed. She had been prepared for such a thing all of her life by her mother. It was her duty to provide heirs for the king and to serve him, nothing else. She did not even have to see him lest he wished it. If they did not get along she could just stay away until he summoned her for his pleasures, or whatever else he may have desired. She feared and despised the seemingly inevitable fate that was awaiting her at the end of this long walk to the throne and her betrothed. Inexplicably though, she was excited too, but not enough so as to mask her fear.

Mheren was also afraid because soon, as soon as the wedding was done, her family would leave and Mheren would be alone with her new life. She hoped that Bren would stay, at least for a little while, but Mheren knew that it would most likely take her all the threats and blackmail in the world to even get her to stay until the wedding. But perhaps she would visit often if she asked nicely.

The young dwarrowdam could see the top spire of the throne curling upwards into the cavernous ceiling now, threaded with gold. A long gash in the side was the only sign she had seen thus far of the dragon's destruction of the mighty kingdom. Mheren followed the spire downwards, noting that there didn't seem to be far to go now to the throne, but could see nothing else. There was no sound in the room save the heavy tramp of their footsteps and clanking sounds that Bren made as she moved, her weapons and various belts and buckles all clanging off one another. At any other time Mheren would have laughed at her friend which would have prompted a wagging finger and a cheeky smile.

But this was not any other time and Mheren took a last deep breath as her family fanned out in front of her. Her father and mother stopped in the middle, arm in arm. Bradun stepped to their father's left and stood tall, towering over the other members of their family. Madlur and Badlur moved to their mothers left, moving in unison in the funny way only they could. Mheren followed Bradun and stood at his left, trying not to fidget. Bren moved past her, further to the left and stood discretely, a few steps behind. But Mheren hardly noticed. Her eyes were on the throne and those who stood there.

Balin took his place directly beside the throne next to a formidable dwarf in fairly plain but strong looking armour, twin axes on his back. His head was bare, bald for the most part and tattooed. He was possibly the single most terrifying dwarf Mheren had ever seen. Beside him Balin, who had a few scars of his own to show, looked as gentle as a bunny. A fluffy white bunny that had eaten too much good food, but a bunny nonetheless.

On the other side of the throne, to the family's left, was a young dwarf with thick honey blonde hair. He wore a crimson and gold tunic and furs about his shoulders. Mheren thought him very handsome indeed, if not too handsome. He had on a stoic expression, but possessed a kind, intelligent face that made him seem very mature indeed.

To his right was another young dwarf, as dark as the other was fair, and by their similar thin features Mheren thought them to be brothers and most likely of the line of Durin. The princes, Fíli and Kíli, she assumed. This dwarf had nought but scruff on his cheeks and chin, and dressed in deep Durin blue with silver. He tried to mimic the same stoic expression his brother and the other's had but was fair too interested in what was going on. His eyes shone with interest and mirth and Mheren thought him too to be very good looking.

Finally, almost unwillingly, her eyes were dragged to the centre of the group and to the throne itself. Thorin Oakenshield sat attentively but somehow still managed to make it look like he was lounging comfortably on that stone seat of his. He was tall, Mheren could tell that straight away, even as he was sitting. He wore the same blue as the dark haired prince and indeed shared many of his features. However where the prince had dark eyes the king had eyes piercing and blue like chips of ice, more like the blond dwarf.

His eyes were on her and made her blush uncontrollably, though she tried her utmost not to. As one, her family dipped into bows and curtsies as required and held the positions until the king said otherwise.

"Rise," he commanded, and those simple words commanded majesty and power portrayed through his deep baritone. They did as told and Mheren used the opportunity to again eye the king without seeming to. It was easier now; his gaze was no longer on her, but her father. Mheren felt a little disappointed. Was she so easily dismissible?

"Lord Bragen," The King spoke again and Mheren allowed his wholesome tones to wash over her ears pleasingly. "I trust your journey was well?"

"Aye my Lord, though I fear I get too old to be doing travelling of any kind," was her father's response and Mheren saw Balin give a small smile. Her father was indeed getting old; he was easily the oldest dwarf in the room, even older than Lord Balin.

"Nevertheless I am glad that you and your family made the journey safely," King Thorin's face showed no emotion as he spoke and Mheren thought him a dwarf who would be very quick to anger. Bragen took the hint from the king's words though and took a single step forward with his wife on his arm.

"You Majesty, my wife the Lady Miffe," Mheren shot a look at Bren who rolled her eyes back at her as Miffe simpered and curtsied again in front of the king. Bragen released his wife and Miffe reluctantly took that single step back into a line with her children. The dwarf Lord gestured at his eldest first.

"My eldest son, Bradun," Bradun bowed low from the waist and Mheren masked a smile behind her veil. He was the pride of their father as much as she was of their mother. "And the twins, Madlur and Badlur."

It was evident that their father had no idea which of the twins was which, what with his failing eyesight, despite one of them being dressed in a dress. Mheren agreed with him though that it wasn't safe to assume that was Madlur, since her brother had been known to take her place in her finery on more than one occasion, when either of them actually wore finery, that is.

"And my eldest daughter, Mheren," Mheren realised with a jolt of terror that her father had just introduced her and swallowed her fear, stepping forward and curtseying low, before flashing the king a small smile, though she knew he couldn't see it. She thought she might die when he made no gesture in return save the slightest of nods which he had offered to all of her family.

"And you?" The King Under the Mountain asked, looking beyond Mheren. The fair haired dwarrowdam felt her brow furrow in confusion and half turned. Bren, who looked briefly startled at being addressed directly, smoothed her expression into a respectful one.

"Bren, your majesty," she bowed, being in breeches rather than a dress. Come to think of it, Mheren had never seen Bren curtsey, though she must have, since she had once been a lady in her own right.

The King stared at her for a long moment, as though he half recognised her before he nodded, apparently satisfied and leaned back on his throne. He gestured to his silent witnesses.

"You've already met Lord Balin of course. Beside him is Lord Dwalin, captain of the guard," Then he gestured to the princes. "My nephews, the princes Fíli and Kíli."

The four dwarves bowed and the princes even flashed a smile each, though Kíli's was much more energetic. He appeared fed up with these formalities and standing around, though he was meeting the people who were soon to be a part of his family. But then Thorin stood from his throne and Mheren was struck by how tall and powerful he seemed. His hair, streaked with a few thin strands of silver, hung low before his shoulders and down his back with no decoration save two braids that framed his face. His crown served to make his face appear even more angular and rather severe.

Despite the silver in his hair, a few lines around his eyes and the overall cold visage that he presented, Thorin Oakenshield was still an extremely good looking dwarf. Mheren was willing to wager that if he smiled a little he would be even more so. But be it as it was that didn't look likely to be happening any time soon. A little absently the young Lady found herself wondering if she would one day be the cause of such a smile. Perhaps when the King had a little heir in his arms and Mheren had been the one to give it to him. The young female bit back a longing sigh that everything would turn out as well as she wished it to. She knew it was likely to be very different to that in real life but she had to keep hoping and dreaming for the better.

"One of my guards will show you to your new chambers, if you will," King Thorin said, inclining his head in a dismissal. Their family regrouped behind the guard that came for before stopping as Thorin spoke again. "Lady Bren, remain, please."

Mheren couldn't help her eyes widening. Not only had the King asked for Bren to remain behind, he had called her Lady and said please when he could have just commanded her to do so. She saw the look of shock and revulsion that passed across her mother's face. But it was her father's expression that stood out the most; he simply nodded at Bren and gave her a small smile. Whatever it was, he knew what was going on.

Bren gave a half bow and smiled reassuringly at Mheren as she followed the Lord and Lady with her siblings. Mheren merely shot her a confused look. How would Bren know the King? More than anything she wished to be a little fly on the wall at that moment. She'd thought she'd known Bren well, at least better than anyone else.

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A/N welcome to my new story, I hope you like it. It will be fairly slow build and full of surprises. There's no definitive plan really so if you have an idea or something you would like to see don't hesitate to shout out. I intend it to be very different to other post BOTFA Thorin marriage stories.

Forgive any stupid mistakes.

Please read and review.

Written to Smaug's Song by Karliene. It has little relevance but her music is amazing.