Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit or any of its characters; but I do own Imelia. If you ever find yourself in a situation where she would be a good character to use in your own story you are welcome to use her, just let me know first. Thanks.
"Thorin has more reason than most to hate orcs," Balin said to Fili, Kili, and the Halfling, Bilbo Baggins.
Aye, that is true, Thorin thought to himself. Orcs had taken an innumerable amount of his kin, including his grandfather, and his father in the battle over the Mines of Moria. He had suffered other losses at their hands as well. The memory that scorched through his mind presently was one he wished he could forget; but it would haunt him until the day he died…
Thorins' pony trotted contentedly through the hills taking her time to get to their destination. Thorin, likewise, was in no rush as he was satisfied smoking his pipe and gazing at the rolling hills. The sky that day was clear and the sun was pleasantly warm. It was mid-spring so the grass was green and soft (the pony appreciated this a great deal, as in was soft under hoof and sweet on the tongue), and the air was teeming with pleasing smells. As Thorin surveyed the countryside his destination came into view. A town surrounded by farms and large wealthy estates arose from the rolling landscape. It was an agreeable looking place with brightly painted houses and buildings. Smoke rose from chimneys, and Thorin could hear children laughing and dogs barking. Thorin nodded to himself, tipped out the ash in his pipe, stored it in his saddlebag, and then tapped his ponies flank with the heel of his boot, spurring her into a canter. As he came into the town, many of the townsfolk smiled and nodded murmuring greetings.
"Master dwarf!" a man called out from the door of the smithies, "Are you searching for the settlement?"
Thorin nodded, "Aye."
"Well, you just keep going straight through, follow the main road till you reach your first intersection. Take the right; you'd have to be daft to get to miss it with all the smoke and noise. Anyways take the right and they'll be just over the hill. Hey, Dergin! One you're kin just come into town!" The man shouted into the smithies, tuning back to Thorin, "You have a good day, master dwarf."
"And you as well," Thorin replied. "Thank you for the directions."
As he turned away the dwarf the stranger had been calling to stuck his head out the door, his pipe in his mouth, but it did not stay there. After he saw Thorin his jaw dropped, nearly beating the pipe to the ground at his feet. Then the dwarf was off. Running as fast as his feet could carry him. It seemed that there would be a party on the grounds of the Redwing estate tonight.
"Welcome Thorin! It is good to see you again," Balin said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Thorin smiled at the older dwarf, "It has been too long, old friend."
"Aye, it has," Balin replied. "So what brings you to Kerdenwil? This is not a very large town and whatever work a dwarf might find here is already taken."
"I have not come here for work, I merely stopped into see you and some others who have settled here for now."
"Ah, come to visit. That is rather unlike you. I am pleased that you have come, but you were not expected, that is for certain. Just look at the commotion you have caused," Balin gestured behind him at the mayhem that was indeed ensuing.
Thorin smiled and scratched the side of his face, "I suppose this means I'll be eating until I'm sick then."
Balin laughed, "Yes it appears that way. Come sit and talk with me awhile." Thorin scowled a bit and looked at everyone, "Let everyone scurry about for you for now," Balin said, guessing that Thorin did not like the idea of his people making a fuss over him.
"But –" Thorin began.
"But nothing, despite what you seem to think of yourself these days, you are their king; and if they want to throw you a feast, then let them. There is precious little they can do for you these days. The least you can do is allow them to feed you for goodness sake." Thorin scowled at Balin. Balin just raised a brow.
"Fine," Thorin did not care to be scolded but there was no purpose in being angry at the one he came to visit.
"Good!" Balin clapped his hands together, "Now, I have some fine tobacco that needs to be smoked and a tale or two that needs to be told." Then he led Thorin to a small stone cottage nestled into a green hill.
The two dwarves spoke for many hours. They talked about the adventures they'd had since they last spoke and of old times and memories; both good and bad.
"So," Thorin said, leaning back and biting on the end of his pipe, "What brought you here to – what was it you called this place?"
"Kerdenwil."
"Right, Kerdenwil. This is indeed a smaller town. It looks like its growing though. I saw several buildings going up on my way here.
"Mostly farmhouses," Balin said, "And this little dwarf settlement. The humans here seem to think the soil is rich in nutrients that will be good for their crops."
"Is it?
"I can't rightly say, I have not looked at the soil here that extensively."
"Hmm."
"But, the people here are good and kind. They respect us and try to help us when they can. The land we are on is actually part of an estate that belongs to a particularly gracious family."
"You've met them?" Thorin asked, curious now.
"Yes, I have. Their oldest daughter, Imelia delegates between us and the family most of the time. Her father is often indisposed with matters of the estate and the politics of the region. She's good and diligent for one so young. Very thoughtful, very capable. She knows how to sooth the tempers of even the most… sensitive folk, and makes for a good referee."
"What?" Thorin asked.
"Yes, peculiar thing, you know how rowdy we can get. Do you recall your thirtieth birthday?"
Thorin almost laughed, "It took almost a year to repair all the damages, Father was furious."
"Yes, and if I recall correctly he was the one who smashed the corner of your table off."
Thorin nodded, his hand rasped over his beard, "Anyways, please, continue."
"A yes well, it's difficult to fully explain the girl, chances are you'll meet her tonight."
"I will?"
"Yes, Redwing – that is her father – likes to have one of his family members attend large social gatherings." Balin chuckled. "I think he just wants someone to keep things from getting out of hand.
Then there was a knock at the door
"That'll be our invitation," Balin said, standing. He went over to the door and swung it open wide. In the doorway stood a young woman with long blonde hair rippling down her back, and big, dark blue eyes; she curtseyed a little to Balin, the lamplight glinted off her tan skin.
"Well, I was just speaking of you, dear," Balin ushered her in. "Thorin, this is Imelia of The Redwing Estate.