Author: Wolfsrainrules

Summary: Merfolk were a legend even to those of Arda. That did not make them myths, however, only unknown to all but a few. They were placed on Arda for a purpose most of the world had forgotten, but when Thorin finds Laurelin, they are about to be reminded.

Warnings: Mermaid AU, Fem!Bilbo (Laurelin) Bagginshield

Laurelin had made a mistake.

She had only wanted to explore. She knew the stories of course, about why the Merfolk had retreated so deeply into the oceans, to the Reef. It had been so long though...she had thought herself safe.

Now she was here.

With pirate scum.

They'd trapped her, hurt her, and dragged her onto their ship. She was in a glass prison. A portable glass dungeon with a stone castle sized for her inside. They'd placed bars on the inside to keep her away from the glass after she'd tried to break it to get out.

And, even worse, they'd gotten this glass cage for her by showing her off. She'd known that most races had forgotten the Merfolk who had once been Arda's ambassadors due to their abilities, but to pay the pirates so they could see her?

Laurelin was furious. How dare they, how dare they? They'd draped her in jewels and heavy metals that dug painfully into her scales, all the while their gazes roamed her body, lingering in places that made her grind her teeth. They'd taken her mother's seashell necklace, taken the river stone belt her father had made her, and Laurelin wanted to cry, but she refused to give these pirates the pleasure of seeing her hurt.

She gave no sign of understanding anything they said, no matter how many smatterings of language they used. She mostly kept to the stone castle that sat in her cage. It kept heavy eyes away, and acted as a sort of buffer between her and the outside world. She felt...not safe, but safer in those stone walls.

She'd learned to come out when 'visitors' were present though. She'd never give the pirates reason to tamper with the water in her prison again. They had learned after the first three deaths not to send men inside the tank with her. It was rather easy to pull them in half with the muscles in her tail. They were in her domain once they stepped into the waters, and Merfolk tempers tended to run vicious and strong like their Father Ulmo. The pirates had learned these facts rather quickly.

Her now small acts of rebellion helped with the fury that still reduced her to shaking and unpleasant thoughts, but it was never enough. She was caged, helpless as she had never been and there was nothing she could do about it. The waters were stale and still, suffocating and stagnant. She wondered sometimes if her captors realized they were slowly killing her like this. She was weaker every day that passed in this dead water.

Still, she hadn't quite given up. Ulmo, her Great Father, would not abandon her. The sea was angry beneath the ship, storms raged, and these pirates faced many dangers along their path. And whenever she was brought outside, her Father brought rain to her prison. He stirred the still, dead, waters of her cage and brought life to the waters she found herself trapped in. She thanked Him every night, and every morning for being with her in this.

She was certain He would bring her aid of some kind, even if it took Him a time to do so. No doubt it would be swift and brutal, but, she knew her fury would not be stifled by anything else.

LINEBREAK

Laurelin was still as the ship rocked sideways and she was tossed into the bars on the side of her glass, but she could not fight the smile on her face. She was draped in the gems and jewels these men had made for her when she was to meet someone of importance. (That usually meant someone with a lot of gold, someone the scum wanted to make an impression on.)

Still, she knew the roar of the waves, the singing of the winds, and the rush of water, the sound of harsh rain on wood.

Her Father had found her aid, and they were attacking the pirates. She knew the rough twang of arrows being loosed and then dull thuds of metal piercing wood. She knew the voices that screamed in pain around her, the sound of blood spilling on wood.

She tipped her head back and laughed in time with the thunder of the storm outside. She allowed herself to sink the bottom of her cell, leaning back against the stone castle behind her. Her head tipped back and laughter continued to spill from her lips, mixed with choked sobs.

"Father please," she prayed to Ulmo, "let this be the help I know You will bring me. Let them get me out. I cannot stay here much longer. My scales dim, my body tires, my wounds are infected. My spirit is weary if still strong. Give me the strength I need. Bring me hope. Please Father."

When all fell silent, and none came for her, Laurelin allowed her eyes to close, head still tipped towards the storm outside. She breathed in and held it, her shoulders dropping. Perhaps these people were not meant to find her. Perhaps this was not the help of her Father, but a group that would be worse than these?

She gathered her tail under herself and used the stone behind her to pull herself up. It was getting more difficult to make herself move as the water around her became more and more stagnant. She would suffocate in this still water, a slow and painful death as she became slower and weaker. She would have long before if her Father had not aided her every time she was brought outside, bringing her life.

LINEBREAK

It was hours later, when Laurelin heard the key to the captain's cabin being inserted into the lock.

She wondered if it was the pirates who had won the scuffle with their attackers, and that was why none had entered the cabin before then.

She stilled, twisting her body around the stone of her castle as she heard the key turning in the lock. She kept herself quiet and hidden, watching as the door opened, and then stilling as an unknown voice called over his shoulder in a language she had not heard in centuries.

"I will see what this scum kept in his quarters now that we have the key. Dwalin keep an eye on the horizon, Kili! Fili! Stay sharp, and do one more sweep of this ship. They were scum, but these pirates seemed to be well off all the same."

Khuzdul. The language of the dwarves.

Laurelin felt her breath rush from her lungs as the speaker came into sight, dripping water everywhere, fierce and strong, lit from behind by Ulmo's lightning. Her eyes widened, and she watched him step inside, turning his eyes from over his shoulder and pinning her in place.

Blue. The blue of the Great Sea, of waves in a storm, where the sky met the sea.

She kept herself hidden as she watched him search through the cabin. He paused at the sight of her prison, distaste on his face, but he did not see her. She watched as he took what could help his people, listened as he spoke softly to himself, speaking about what he would take and why or for whom.

She watched him step in and out of the room, bringing his findings out to the others of his group, before he returned to the cabin and kept looking for more. He wanted to help his people, his kin. His mutters to himself let her learn of his motives, and she approved. She lifted her eyes to the sky, and smiled.

"Thank you Father."

She took a breath, and then swam forward, removing herself from the stone that had sheltered her from so much. She lifted a hand gripping the bar inside her cage with that hand and with the other she tapped the glass between the bars.

LINEBREAK

Thorin frowned as he dug in the chest at the foot of this captain's bed. They could always use more blankets, and this chest held them. Thick, fluffy and tightly woven, high quality. He was uneasy. These pirates were not very good fighters. They were not skilled enough to have stolen this much wealth, things of this quality and quantity from others.

So how had they gotten them?

Why did they have all these luxury items, if they could not have stolen the sheer amount of them? Even the amount of gold- and it had been quite a bit more than Thorin had expected- didn't explain it. It may have if the pirates had not had so much pricey items. They had to have a steady stream of gold coming in. It was the only explanation for how the entire ship had held high quality expensive items instead of only a few.

Thorin had channeled that nervous energy by pulling everything he could of use from the ship for his people. He was not sure how they had done it, but the gold in their hold, and the blankets and supplies would help keep his dwarrow alive and Thorin was thankful for that, no matter the suspicious circumstances of their presence.

He was just getting ready to call Balin and Ori into the captain's cabin to look at the meager supply of books when a noise caught his attention. He reacted instantly, falling into a defensive stance as he whirled to face the threat, how had he been snuck up on, there was no one in the room-

His breath caught, eyes widening in shock. Dim sunlight glinted off gold and glass and-

That was not possible!

He had never seen anything like her. She was beautiful, draped in finery he had not seen since his home in Erebor had fallen to the dragon. Her entire body was the color of golden fire, a powerful tail flicking through the water. Scales crawled over her hips, curling forwards above her navel and around her torso to hide her modesty, and then back around her shoulders down her back. More scales trailed down her arms, to her hands, and when he looked upon her face, the same scales curved around the outer corner over her eyes to trail down her cheekbones.

Her eyes were trapped embers, framed by a gaudy hair piece that looped across her forehead and into her hair-golden-red of a darker shade then her scales-of bright silver chains tipped in fire opals and onyx.

She was reaching for him through the glass, her other hand gripping the bar, and it suddenly hits Thorin that she is prisoner in this room. The fury that fills him is intense and unexpected. His expression twists and she hurls herself further back into her cage. There is fury on her face, but it's resigned and oh.

Dwarrows had myths about these creatures, much as every race on Arda, of course, but they were just that. Myths. Tales for dwarrowlings around the hearth. And yet…

There she is. Trapped fire, and to his trained eyes, this blaze was dimming. Becoming embers in this glass prison of hers.

He steps forward, his hands falling away from his sword as he approaches the glass dungeon, and he finds his hand lifting of its own accord, pressing flat against the glass over where her own palm is pressed.

He knows he cannot leave her here.

Every legend that ever spoke of Merfolk told they were a race as wild and untamable as the sea from which they came. She did not belong here, in still waters, never to touch the waves of her home again, held just out of her reach.

Thorin had lost his home, but he could give her back hers. Erebor was out of his reach for now, but… her home was right outside these walls. Right within her reach, if he could help her. That was within his power. He could free her.

He could save this wild creature who looked so like a flickering flame trapped in glass.

His eyes dropped from the burning embers of her own, and he began to search for a way to free her. It didn't take him long to find the bolts sunk into the floor, and that were attached to them, leading upwards towards the glass of the mermaid's prison. He could see where the chain was locked into place on the glass with a clever but of glasswork that allowed a loop for the lock to hook around.

She was trapped inside the prison, unable to reach the glass, but Thorin was not.

His lips pulled down into a fierce frown as he reached for his sword and turned it so the pommel faced the looping glass. It took him three strong hits, but the glass shattered, and the sound of a heavy chain hitting the wooden floor was a victory. The storm outside hid any noise he made, as he moved around the circle of chains, breaking each fastening loop.

He only lifted his eyes when the last chain had fallen to the floor, and his breath caught a second time.

The mermaid had moved to the center of the glass contraction, twisting to keep him in view the entire time he worked. When his eyes lifted from his sword, and moved instead to look at her, he could not help but think this was why mermaids were called Queens of the Seas.

Her golden hair had twisted and swirled around her frame, held down only by the silver hair piece. An armband of silver was connected to silver chains like vines that twisted down her arms, until they all met in one strand that fastened to the ring that sat on her middle finger, set with a glimmering onyx. Her entire body was now extended and Thorin got his first good look at the maiden. Her hips were draped with a matching scallop-patterned silver chain to her head piece, each 'scale' in the scallop pattern tipped with alternating fire-opals and onyx. The belt stopped at her hips, but fastened around her tail, just above where her fin began a silver chain wound elegantly over her scales. The silver was bright against her fire-gold scales and Thorin couldn't move or breathe for a moment.

She was glorious.

She looked down at him from her place in the water, and Thorin remained still and silent as he watched those ember-eyes of her brighten and spark like a bonfire. He recognized hope in her, and his chest squeezed for a painful moment.

He only moved when he heard Dwalin whisper an oath at his back.

His head turned to meet his shield-brother's wide eyes, even as the mermaid pinned the warrior in place with a burning piercing look.

"By Mahal's Anvil! Thorin, what…?"

"Help me get her out my friend. Her glass prison is mobile," he nodded at the wheels that sat at the foot of her tank, "but I cannot transport her out of this room on my own."

Dwalin remained frozen and staring for another moment, before his eyes hardened with determination and he stepped inside. He bent to shove the chains that would be in the way of the wheels to the side, and the shoved both doors to the cabin open entirely.

The large double doors to the captain's cabin had been a source of confusion among Thorin and his kin, but as the dwarrow began to prepare to move the tank, Thorin suddenly understood the purpose of them. They were built so large so that the mermaid and her prison would fit through them.

It lit a spark of resentment in his chest for the pirate scum he had his crew had taken care of. They had been to merciful, delivering quick deaths to those that fought them. How long had the maiden sat in the prison slowly wasting away, trapped just out of sight of her ocean, but able to hear it call her?

Thorin stepped out of the cabin, releasing a long and carrying whistle. It took a moment, but his dwarrow began to step out of the rooms and climb from the lower decks at the carrying sound.

"Come with me," he commanded, "I am in need of more strength to move what we have found. All of you."

Glances were exchanged, as each dwarrow present had known Thorin long enough to recognize he was furious about something, and not just angry or annoyed. Still, he called, and they answered just as they always had.

Bombur was the first through the door, and he froze a step inside, wide wondering eyes fixed on the Queenly sight in front of him.

"Sweet forgefire…." he whispered the oath, as his eyes remained fixed on what his King had found.

He ignored the bodies that had crashed into his back, unmoving and awed at the living myth. His next forward step was taken unthinkingly, as he slowly approached the glass, his hand lifting to press against the glass much as his King had once done.

His eyes widened further, like a child presented with an unexpected gift, as the mermaid- for that was what she was, Bombur knew- allowed herself to sink in the waters, and came forward to press her hand against the glass over his own palm, a gentle smile pulling her lips upwards.

Ori was the next to snap into movement, the scribe utterly enchanted. Her eyes were open wide and, she kept a steady stream of half-started sentences as she tried to both exclaim her awe, and ask questions at once.

The gentle grin on the maiden's face widened as she turned to approach the dwarrowdam. Instead of pressing her hand to the glass as she had with Bombur and Thorin both, she lifted her hand and waved.

Ori was beside herself with joy as she whirled around to Nori and Dori whom had both followed her footsteps despite their shocked awe, waving her arms and gushing, "Did you see- She just- I was- And then she-"

The two brother's couldn't help the way their lips twitched and pulled into a smile at the sound of their little sister's joy.

Nori approached carefully. Most myths on Merfolk spoke about how they could look into someone's eyes and see if they were good or not. Nori was a thief, and a spy. He had done many, many things on behalf of his family and his King. His hands were not clean, but if he could keep his kin and King, his friends from bloodying theirs by doing the dirty work himself, Nori would. He had never hesitated.

Still, as he approached the mermaid, he wondered what she would see when she looked at him. Would she turn away from him? Would her face twist in disgust? Could she see the blood that dripped from his palms?

His breath caught when that burning gaze was turned to him, and he didn't move as he kept his eyes on hers. She didn't move for a moment, her gazed searching, and Nori found himself tensing in the face of it. Others had called him a bad person before, but Nori had always shoved those whispers away, burying them under his family and King's needs. Still...he was face to face with a creature of myth said to see the heart of a person.

Would she, too, judge him a bad, filthy lying rat-

Nori's breath caught as she lowered her body further, folding her tail under herself, and meeting his eyes evenly. A hand lifted, a finger summoned, and Nori stepped up to the glass. His breath caught as the mermaid dipped her head to him, her smile gentle and her eyes closing. She opened her eyes, lifting her head, and reached out her hand through the bars, pressing her palm to the glass as she had with the others.

Nori lifted his own hand, and if it shook just a little as he pressed it against the glass, no one said a word.

One by one the mermaid greeted each of Thorin's crew, his family, even those who had no blood relations to him. His chest felt tight as she treated each of them to a smile and greeting, her eyes warm and welcoming.

When each had been greeted individually, she turned her eyes back to him, and Thorin met her gaze. They were warmer now than they had been before, and he wondered what she had learned of him by meeting those he called his crew.

He shoved that thought away, turned to the others and spoke, his voice deep and commanding attention. "Come, let's get her out of here."

LINEBREAK

Laurelin could barely dare to breathe. She was getting out. She was finally getting out of her cage. These dwarrow were pulling and pushing her prison through the doors of the cabin and as her Father's rain poured down into her tank she threw her head back and and pulled in a deep gasping breath.

Living Water.

Her Father's power pulsed through the rain as it stirred the dead and foul waters of her cage, and she felt dizzy with the fresh source of water to breathe from. Her hands lifted upwards, reaching towards the sky despite the bars that latched closed over the top of her prison, her back arched, and her eyes closed. Her smile was wide and joyful, laughter spilling from her lips and she twirled through the water despite her hurts. She had not felt so alive since she had left the Reef.

The thunder of the storm shifted from a raging thing to something closer to the rumble of a chuckle, and the choppy sea beneath the ship settled towards simply rocking the ship rather then the more violent bobbing it had been doing before.

She only opened her eyes when she heard the sound of the metal bars that latched over the top of her cage shift. The small red haired dwarf- the one who had looked so fearful of her judgement- had climbed atop of the bars and was now working to unlock them.

Her lips parted as he succeeded, and though he was perched with one leg over the side of the glass, and the other between the bars that covered her escape, he easily lifted the heavy hinged door and tossed it open.

For a moment she didn't dare to move, staring hesitantly at the sudden escape provided to her. When she finally did find the strength to act, she rushed for the opening, breaking through the surface of the water with a large gasp. Laurelin shuddered as she felt fresh ocean air on her face for the first time in what felt like an Age. Her laughter was bright, and she basked as the clouds parted, allowing sunlight to shine down upon her form.

She was unaware of the utter stillness of the dwarrow who had saved her, each staring as sunlight cascaded over her hair and scales, lighting the colors from embers to living forge flame, the light playing and rippling over her body.

It was as if a piece of Mahal's Sacred Fire had been captured in a creature of the sea.

Laurelin turned in the water to face the thief who had opened the door separating her from her from clean air. He was staring at her with wide bright eyes and she approached him, reaching forward with trembling fingers. He did not flinch from her and Laurelin found herself pleased, as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his in a dwarven show of great gratitude when done after a great service had been rendered between them, as had been done by freeing her.

She would do the same to each of the dwarrow when she could reach them. Her gratitude could not be expressed by mere words. This expression of her knowledge of their culture would have to do.

She lifted her head, turning to face the dwarrow on the ground and trying to figure out how she could get herself out. Well. She had fine upper body strength, even if she had no legs to help her. She would not have legs until the day she found her Perfect Song, and could take their form. It was possible to shift to a race of two legs without finding your other half of course, but it would be like walking across knifes and coals for every step, like fire in your bones every time the shift happened.

Merfolk were meant to take the form of a particular race- the one that matched their Perfect Song- and only then would the shift be painless. Laurelin hurt enough without any extra strain on her body. She instead gripped the bars of metal that framed the door the little thief had opened and hauled her body upwards. It took a bit more effort then she was used to, her limbs shaking with weakness from her long captivity, but once the little thief realized what she was doing, he helped her get her tail up onto the bars and out of the tank.

She smiled at him, nodding her thanks as she eyed the large drop from the top of her cage to the deck below. She rolled her body onto her belly after a moment gripping the bars tightly as she slowly wiggled her way backwards until she hung on the side with her arms alone, her tail trailing down the metal like a living flag.

She slowly began to lower herself down, hand over hand, refusing to allow herself to simply slide and burn the cuts on her palms. The pirates had taken enough from her, she would hold on to what was left of her pride and dignity. She heard a rush of footsteps and gasped softly as warm calloused hands gripped her hips and tail as they helped her down as soon as she was in reach to grab.

For a moment, she almost snarled in refusal of touch, but her body protested her motions and leaned into the warmth of another being. She was weary and there was only a little strength she could muster.

She found herself lowered gently to the deck of her captor's ship and looking up into the awed eyes of dwarrows and a dwarrowdam. She reached forward to the one called Thorin, who knelt in front of her, having been the one to wrap his hands about her hips. He leaned forward curiously, and she sat up pressing her forehead to his in thanks. One by one she turned to the other dwarrow reaching forward and repeating the gesture with each of them.

She kept her movement slow, firm and with all the solemnity she possessed. Even in her unwanted finery with her sluggishly bleeding wounds and weakened body.

She did not trust them with her voice yet, but she wanted them to know how thankful she was all the same. Thorin- as she had heard the large warrior who had helped with her tail, call the first dwarrow she had met- introduced each member of his crew to her by name, and she made a point to memorize their names and faces. There were many of them, but this was important so she would remember names with faces.

Oin slipped forward after introductions, speaking about how he was going to look her over, using hand gestures with slow, easy motions. When she nodded her consent, he then carefully began to do as he said he would. His hands were gentle but firm as he found each of the wounds she had taken in her captivity, and he uttered a curse as he realized the heavy adornments she still wore which were the cause of several wounds where they had been placed. She was tense at first, but slowly relaxed as Oin and Ori began to pull the jewels off of her body and care for the wounds that were revealed underneath them.

She was pleased to see the fire of anger stir in all the eyes around her as the damage was revealed. She waited until she had been tended before she turned her attention to looking for the captain's body on the deck.

He carried her mother's necklace and her father's belt with him, as he thought it amusing to taunt her with them. He also carried the small collection of pearls she had woven into her hair. Besides the captain, she wanted to find the first mate. The bastard wore coral around his neck, and though he may not have known what coral actually was as all the races of Arda seemed to have forgotten, it still burned her to see it around his neck like an insult and a trophy in one.

When her race died, and moved on to their Father's palace, or into the afterlife their Perfect Song was destined for, their bodies would become coal reefs below the waters, sheltered forever in their Father's embrace. That he had taken a piece, and wore it like a statement around his neck while he tormented her so...

She had Cursed his line, though she had not spoken it to him aloud. Her Father had heard her, and the sea had risen to her call. She had cursed him, and all in his line who bore greed in their hearts to find no welcome in any body of water, to never find shelter from storms, much as she had cursed the captain who had held her captive.

As soon as she spotted the sprawled body of the captain she used her arms to pull herself closer, shaking away the hands that tried to stop her. She would not allow this scum to hold momentos of her family even a moment longer.

Her hands shook as she pulled her belt, pearls, and necklace out of various pockets of his overcoat, and she clutched them close to herself eyes closing in relief. They were still here, she still had them, they were whole and undamaged, thank Ulmo.

LINEBREAK

Laurelin could not return to the sea until her wounds had healed. There was also information to be gathered on these people. Her own kind knew Men, knew Elves, but these were virtually unknown. Not completely, as other Merfolk had found their Songs in this race before- Durin the Deathless had been the Song of one of her people-and those that had Dwarrow as Songs had come back to teach their language to the Merfolk. Oaths had been sworn, as the race meant to keep the peace, that they would never utter Khuzdul to any but a dwarrow, and that they would never teach another outside of their race what they learned. The Queen of the time had sworn the Oath in blood and on the sea, as all who chose to learn Khuzdul after her had done when they learned. Their Father would ensure they kept it.

Thorin's crew was gentle and caring with her as they tended to her hurts, which lent a favorable opinion to them.

She had kept her voice and understanding of both Common and Khuzdul to herself, allowing them to think her unable to communicate with actual words at all. They spoke as though she could not understand and that revealed much of their thoughts. They spoke of vengeance on her behalf, justice for her imprisonment and watery graves for all her captors. It was in hushed whispers they talked of her beauty, and even then it was to compare her to rubies and fire, the dawn at daybreak and all of it was an edge of awe.

She was growing to trust them, but her supposed lack of understanding had saved her more than once in the past, before she had been caught.

Instead she had the crew convinced she communicated with tones and sounds. Her voice rose and fell in beautiful but wordless notes of song, sounds that mimicked the oceans, brooks, rivers, rain and thunder, but never any understandable words. It was more than most that lived ever knew of her race.

After the Great Hunting, merfolk had retreated beneath the waves, and faded to legends and myths. They had become guardians of the sea instead, protecting places of great value, and pathways between places. Most who heard merfolk now heard only songs that lured them away from these places, put them to sleep to think the sightings dreams. Occasionally, it had to be said, the merfolk had risen up and driven armies onto rocks with their voices, sailors into the embrace of their Father, and this too, had given rise to the legends around them.

She was testing them. So far, they were passing her every challenge, and she had rewarded them with the knowledge of her nonverbal communications.

She knew most would consider that petty, or judgemental, but Laurelin had learned her lessons in blood and pain when she failed to listen to the warnings in the first place. She would not trust any race easily again. The only reason she hadn't jumped into the ocean the moment she was on the deck, was because of how these dwarrow treated her.

They cared for her wounds, and as soon as she managed to convey she needed fresh water every other day it was provided. They fed her well, never barred her from the open sky, never made her feel trapped.

They allowed her to tug on their braids and beads, making curious or awed noises even though she knew how important they were to dwarrow kind. She ignored personal space, getting close to the dwarrow, touching hands and shoulders and feet like she had never seen them before.

She'd done it to see what sort of people she had found herself surrounded with, if they would turn violent when presented with an unknown touching their braids, tugging and playing with beads, when they 'knew' she couldn't understand them. When they 'knew' she didn't understand their ways. It told a lot about a person, how they reacted when presented with a situation such as that one.

She did it to test who they were and found herself pleased. Each and every one of Thorin's crew had been patient and kind in the face of her childlike behavior. Even Thorin himself.

They were kind, when they had nothing to gain from it beyond the act of kindness itself.

They had taken the time to learn what sounds she made when she was happy or curious, when she was sad or content. They had learned which sounds she associated each of them with, and which sound she made when she wanted them to come to her, when she was hungry, or tired.

They tried to mimic them back, her strange lilting melody, attempting to communicate with her. The one with an axe in his head made gestures with his hands, pointing to the sun, to food, to water. They all spoke words, both in Trade and their own secret tongue. The small red-haired one, the dwarrowdam called Ori braided her pearls in her hair in a distinctly dwarven fashion.

Her heart warmed to them, and she responded to their calls when they mimicked the noise she made to call them over to the best of their abilities. They lacked the ability to make certain sounds, unable to layer their voices properly to produce it, but they came as close as they could to it, and Laurelin treated their attempts with joy.

Still, she did not reveal she could speak their language, save for a few basic words. She knew most all the languages of Arda, as Merfolk had once been the Ambassadors between the races. There had been a time that Merfolk had needed to know them, as they kept the peace between the children of the Valar connected to each of them.

They had been a trusted race, a neutral party, a solver of problems and disputes. They had thrived, found all over Arda, and as Merfolk found their Perfect Song in various races, changing their forms to fit their Song's race. They had touched each of the Children of the Valar, so deeply that even now, when her kind had been in hiding for over an Age, they were remembered as legends by every race.

Her ultimate test for these dwarrow, and the one that would decide what happened next between them, would be the moment she was healed enough to go back to the ocean.

Would they let her go, give her the freedom to choose? Would they instead attempt to cage her, as the pirates had done?

Would greed or kindness guide them still, when the moment came for her to be free?

She didn't know. A part of her would always expect the worst from surface dwellers. There was a reason her kind had faded into the most obscure myths and legends. Círdan kept their secret well.

She hoped these dwarrow would too.

Blue so deep and bright.