A/N: Hey guys! Sorry to keep you all waiting so long. I live in one of the areas that was flooded by Hurricane Harvey, so there's been a lot of chaos around here. I'm fine, everyone I know is fine (though I did have to rescue a friend and her family who lost their house to the flood), we were just without power for a long while, and then trying to recover from all the insanity, and then I was out of town. So no updates could happen. I will do my best to get the next chapter after this one out as soon as possible, and then we will be back to weekly posting (hopefully, fingers crossed!). Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter Three

Brie slept for most of the next day, rising only when Nori insisted she come down for tea. Bilbo and Bofur were waiting downstairs and were quick to assure her that she had not missed anything of importance the day before. Ori was also there, bouncing with enthusiasm and filling the vase on the parlor mantel with lily of the valley (return of happiness) and pilewort (joys to come) with an expectant grin on his face.

"I see you've made a quick study of my little flower book," Brie said, standing on tiptoes to sniff at the delicate buds.

"Oh, yes, it's quite fascinating!" Ori said, the pleased grin still plastered on his face, "In fact, I've had to make copies! I have one, and one's loaned out, and there's one stored in the library now. Oh, I can't wait to show you, it's marvelous!"

As Dori poured tea for everyone, Ori waxed eloquent about the stacks of Erebor's Great Library, the texts salvaged from before the dragon came and all the texts that had come pouring in since.

"Balin and I have been beside ourselves trying to keep up with it all," Ori admitted, "We'll have to take another assistant soon."

"Don't you have three already?" Dori asked, incredulously.

"Well yes, but it seems the more we bring on, the more work we find for them to do," Ori said with a sly smile that Brie thought looked strangely reminiscent of Nori. She glanced at the middle brother, who met her eyes and shrugged, as perplexed as she was.

"Bombur told us his second girl had taken a position in the stacks recently," Bilbo said.

"Oh, Bris!" Ori said, "She's done very well, taken to the tablets like a fish to water. Precise work, she's very good at it."

Bilbo and Bofur had taken residence with Bombur and his family, who (despite their numbers) had plenty of room to spare, and Bofur couldn't resist the opportunity to spend as much time as possible with his many nieces and nephews.

"You're all invited to dinner, by the way," Bofur added, "Bombur's planning a right feast of it, says he has to make up for all those terrible camping meals he subjected you to."

Brie did not remember Bombur's cooking being anything at all to sneeze at, even under the most dire circumstances. She could not fathom what he might do with a limitless supply of the proper ingredients.

"I imagine you'll all have plenty of invitations soon enough," Dori said, pouring everyone another cup of tea, "The whole mountain is buzzing with rumor of your arrival for Prince Fili's wedding."

"Oh," Brie said, setting her cup down on her saucer, suddenly feeling very tired, "Will we really?"

Dori gave her a sidelong glance. "Of course, you needn't give your company to anyone you don't care to," he said, dropping a lump of sugar in his tea and stirring intently, "And none will be given access to your person that you do not care to see, so long as you remain under this roof."

He said this very pointedly and Brie felt a swell of gratitude for the old dwarf. She reached out and patted his knee.

"Thank you, nadad."

He smiled, but waved away her thanks, patting her hand.

"We'll worry about it when it comes, dear, don't fret. You're safe with us."

Of course, they did accept Bombur's invitation to dinner that evening, and Brie was quite thankful to see that Bilbo had brought her pack with him, containing her few changes of clothes. Once Bilbo and Bofur had taken leave, Brie laid out her few well-worn dresses for examination. Dori tutted fretfully behind her.

"Yes, I see what you mean, Nori dear," Dori said, eying the frocks with…well, not exactly distaste, but certainly opposition, "Like an uncut diamond in a jeweler's display. Oh no, those won't do at all! Wait here a moment, I believe I have just the thing."

Before Brie could protest, Dori swept out of the parlor leaving her to stare after him in bewilderment. Nori and Ori only exchanged a familiar glance and rolled their eyes fondly before their elder brother returned, bearing an armful of fine fabrics that was nearly as tall as he was.

"There," he said, hoisting the lot over a high-backed chair and beginning to separate it out, "Let's see what we have here."

It was a pile of dresses. And not just any dresses, like Brie had briefly glimpsed in his shop. These were…well, she might have said they were hobbit dresses, except that they were far more fine than she had ever seen any hobbit wear. There were silks and laces and gold embroidery in elaborate patterns along hems and cuffs, lines that she had seen echoed on the signs above Dori's shop. She traced the lines and a voice echoed back to her out of a much happier past.

The lines of Li…all dwarven families have them…

"Ri…" she murmured, tracing the lines again with her fingers before looking up, "Isn't it? Our family lines?"

Dori beamed at her, taking the dress that her fingers had brushed and draping it across his arm, a lavish display of lavender and gold.

"It's traditional to dress in the colors of your House for a wedding," he said, "I thought this might be a detail Nori would fail to convey, so I took the liberty."

"And I failed to convey the detail, because I knew you'd take the liberty," Nori said, jabbing Ori in the side with his elbow jokingly, "It's like I know him better than he knows himself!"

Dori rolled his eyes, but he didn't seem altogether displeased with this. Brie was trying to remember how to breathe.

"Oh Dori, I can't wear these," she insisted, turning from the beautiful gown to the others that now lined every stick of furniture in the parlor.

"Nonsense!" Dori said primly, laying the lavender silk aside and picking up a fine green velvet, lined with cream lace, "You shall be dressed as befits your station! No sister of mine will be seen traipsing about Erebor in—" He shuddered. "—calico. I took the measurements from memory, but it's a simple enough thing to adjust. I can have them all done up in a trice."

He had put down the green and was now holding a red satin up to her frame, eying critically, as if already making alterations. Brie sent a pleading look to her other two brothers, who were both sitting back with arms crossed and identically smug expressions on their faces. Brie frowned at both of them and Nori only grinned as he stuck his pipe between his teeth.

"Nori, not with the dresses, dear," Dori said absently, setting aside the red with a shake of his head. Nori rolled his eyes, but put away the pipe again.

"What about this one?" Brie asked, reaching for one of the plainer garments, a fine brown and white muslin, trimmed with gold at the hem and around the ends of the sleeves, "I like it very much."

Dori frowned a bit, his head turning to the side.

"Well," he grumbled, "It's not my best work, but I suppose something could be done. Let's get it on and see."

Brie didn't realize until she had changed clothes what a difference three years had made in her stature. Oh, she was the same height of course, but she'd lost quite a bit of girth around her middle and her legs seemed quite spindly beneath the full skirts. Perhaps Dori's memories of her were not quite so accurate as he imagined.

She came back to the room and Dori immediately went to work, pinning here, there, and everywhere, fluttering about her like a particularly fussy bird.

"How's the length?" he asked, as he pinned up her shoulders, "I tried to keep it above the ankles, but I only had the one glimpse of that hobbit gown in Rivendell."

Brie looked down and could see her fuzzy toes peeking out from beyond the golden pleats.

"Just right," she said, feeling the edges of the skirt swirl at her calves.

Dori hmphed and finished his pinning.

"Alright, off with you now, I've work to do," he said, taking the whole pile of dresses into his arms and flouncing off to his shop, leaving Brie in her old dress and feeling exhausted.

She crawled up onto the couch beside Nori and he put his arm around her, giving her access to lay her head on his chest as he lit his pipe. Ori had curled into the chair in the corner, his sketchbook in his lap, and he immediately turned to a fresh page and began anew. Brie smiled and shut her eyes.

"Sing to me, Nori," she murmured sleepily.

"What would you like, sweet?"

"Something of the mountain," she murmured, already feeling her thoughts start to drift off, "I can still feel it."

It was true. She could still feel the stone, humming in her bones, not unpleasant, but constant, steady.

Kêlur'abani...pure life, held in stone...

She shuddered and Nori pulled her closer. She could almost hear him thinking, then he hummed deep in his chest to find his key and began.

"Over the stone, the old gray stone,

Let me ponder here alone,

Through all weather we go together

Ancient stone, thou good old stone."

"Of the many friends I've seen,

Thou the truest friend has been,

Some forget me, some have fled,

Some are false, and some are dead,

Changing never, constant ever,

Still I find thee, dear old stone."

There was more, another verse or two, but it was lost to Brie's dreams as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Dori hadn't been far off about the invitations. The next day, there was a note from Oin and Gloin, inviting them all to dinner at Gloin's house to meet his family. After the rambunctious ruckus that had greeted them at the Ur house (Bombur's many children, while good-natured and on the whole well-behaved, were still children and prone to bouts of furious excited activity that made Brie's head spin), Brie could not fathom spending another night in company so soon. With Dori's help, she was able to pen a suitable decline, with a counter invitation that they should join the Ris for dinner on the evening following, an invitation that was enthusiastically accepted.

This was followed by not one, but two more on the following day: one an open invitation from Balin to come round for dinner on an evening of her choosing, the other far more official-looking, on thick parchment with sprawling calligraphy.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Dis of the Kingdom of Erebor

Formally requests the pleasure of your company for high tea in her Parlor

Accompanied by her sons and their partners

In three days time following the arrival of this missive

Please reply with all speed."

It was addressed to the entire House of Ri and, not wanting to dim the glow in Dori's eye, Brie agreed to the invitation at once. She had met Princess Dis, briefly, on their walking holiday through the Shire with the caravan of dwarves from Ered Luin. She had found her to be altogether agreeable, if a bit stiff, and not prone at all to the nonsense or frivolity that plagued her sons.

"They get that from their father," she had said primly, but with the barest hint of a smile quirking her lips, framed by her magnificent dark beard and a twinkle in her clear blue eyes.

Brie had nearly not survived those eyes.

Dinner with Gloin was a rather tame affair when compared with Bombur's brood. Gloin's wife was a boisterous, clever woman, with wild blonde hair that hung in haphazard braids from her head and beard, but a pleasant smile and a raucous laugh. Their son, Gimli, was a precocious young dwarfling who insisted on being told all about the spiders of Mirkwood, of which he seemed to have a particular fascination. Brie obliged as best she could, and the boy seemed satisfied that his adad's story had been proven more or less true.

"And the elves?" he asked, eyes gleaming, "Were they very terrible? I heard they kept you all in a dark, damp dungeon and there was even tortu—"

"Gimli, go help your amad with the wash up," Gloin snapped suddenly.

The boy complained but went after a stern look from his father. Gloin looked apologetically at Brie.

"He gets carried away," he grumbled, "Gets romantic notions in his head, like it was all just some grand story in a book."

"It's alright," Brie said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, "He's a fine lad, Gloin. Everything you ever said he was."

Gloin puffed up at that and the conversation continued as if all were well. But that night, Brie dreamed of swirling snow and blood and cries in the night.

...nanginguh...

She woke up crying, with Nori stroking her hair and humming her back to sleep.

Despite her restless night, Brie woke the next day determined to take up Balin's invitation to dinner. But despite all her many efforts to persuade him, Nori refused to go with her.

"I'm busy," he said stubbornly, lighting another pipe and settling back into his chair in the parlor.

"Doing what may I ask?" Brie quipped, feeling the first edges of irritation fluttering in her tone.

"Well, if you must know," Nori said, pointedly not meeting her eyes, "I told Dori I would do a bit of the cleaning up, seeing as he's been so busy with the shop and all."

"Oh Nori!" Brie exclaimed, stomping her foot in all out indignation, "You don't even know that he will be there! It is Balin who has invited us, after all, not—"

"It makes not one jot of difference who will be there," Nori interrupted, still not looking at her, "I'm not going, and that's final."

"Fine," Brie huffed, crossing her arms and doing her best not to look the least bit bothered, "Then I shall go without you!"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

With one last stomp of her foot, Brie stormed from the room to change. Just for spite, she deliberately left her curls hanging loose about her shoulders, leaving only a small, unadorned braid by her ear, and made sure to flounce by Nori in her newest dress (a gauzy affair of cream and pale peach with silver accents) and announce her departure. He snorted, but said nothing else. Brie slammed the door behind her with enough force to rattle the frame.

By the time she had reached Balin's house her fury had abated and she was trembling slightly. She hadn't made a visit on her own before, and while she was sure that Balin would not have extended the invitation if she were not welcome, she still worried…

The door opened, but it was not Balin who answered. All of Brie's misgivings flew from her head, and all she could think was how very much she wished she'd been able to convince Nori to come.

Dwalin stood stock still in the doorway, completely blocking all view of the house within, staring down at her with absolutely no discernible expression on his face. The other members of the Company that she had seen had all changed slightly: Ori a little more grown-up, Bombur a little more round, Gloin with new gold adorning his red beard. Dwalin had not changed even the tiniest bit since she'd last seen him, down to the leather harness crossed over his chest holding his favorite axes strapped to his back. And all of a sudden, Brie thought she had never seen a more comforting sight in all her life. She smiled and tried to hold back the tears she could feel gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"Hello, beharê," she whispered.

Dwalin's facade cracked. He reached through the door and drew her into his strong arms, holding her tight to his chest.

"Iltin-e, mim khî," he said hoarsely.

Brie huffed a laugh and pushed back to give him a watery smile.

"There is nothing to forgive," she said.

Dwalin looked doubtful.

"Do you say so?"

"I do," she said firmly, straightening her skirt, "I know your heart, Dwalin, and I can only imagine how it must have been for you."

Since they had left the mountain, there had been only a few unspoken topics in Bag End. One of them, was Dwalin. Brie still did not know the exact nature of what had passed between Nori and the guardsman, and this rift (and her desire to see it mended) was one of the few threads that still kept her tied to her life. She wanted to see Nori happy before she left him, if she could.

"Dwalin?" Balin's voice interrupted them. "Are you going to keep our guest waiting on the stoop all night, or are you going to let her in?"

Brie grinned and Dwalin rolled his eyes, standing aside to allow her entrance.

"After you, Miss Baggins," he grumbled rather petulantly and Brie stepped inside, feeling another thread forming between her and her friend as she passed. There was hope for Dwalin. If only she could make Nori see. She would make him see, if it was the last thing she did.

She came home with Dwalin's braids in her hair, but Nori was nowhere to be seen. She went to sleep, still turning the problem over in her mind.

Dis was as lovely and agreeable as Brie remembered her, though perhaps a little more relaxed in the familiar environment of the mountain. She even rose to take Brie's hands in hers with a smile that nearly stopped the breath in Brie's chest. It was little things like this (the spark in her blue eyes, the shape of her lips when she smiled) that made things difficult sometimes. But Brie pushed away the flutters of black on the edges of her vision and it was over in an instant, the princess entirely her own person in all but these few things.

Though Fili was not able to knock her flat as his brother had nearly done (Brie could still hear the echoing crack of his bones breaking and his scream on the cold wind) his embrace was no less enthusiastic, nearly lifting her off her feet with one arm as he steadied himself on his jeweled walking stick.

"I'm so glad you've come," he said in her ear, his smile like a sunny spring morning, and Brie could not help but return it.

"I wouldn't dare miss it," Brie assured him, patting his cheek fondly.

Bofur and Bilbo had been invited to tea as well, and all in all, they spent a very pleasant afternoon. The princess' parlor was surprisingly cozy for all its high ceilings and fine furniture, helped in great part by the enthusiastic company they kept. Brie even laughed once or twice as Fili described a particularly funny misunderstanding among the Guild heads concerning the placement of table settings at the wedding feast. It was so hobbitish that it took Brie quite off her guard. She nearly forgot about the dark tendrils that plagued her, just for a moment.

When tea was done, Ori was eager to give the newcomers a tour of the Great Library where he spent most of his days. It wasn't far from the royal wing, so the Urs and the Ris made a happy troop down the wide stone corridors. Brie hung back a bit, letting the image fix in her mind. A happy memory. A reminder.

They'll be alright, when—

A smell stopped her in her tracks, a smell so well-known that it was almost foreign in these unfamiliar surroundings. Flowers. She could smell flowers, thick and distinct, riding on a puff of air through a narrow corridor that she wasn't even certain was supposed to be a corridor. It certainly looked too small for any dwarf to pass through, except perhaps for some of the younger of Bombur's dwarflings.

She glanced back down the hall. The others were further along now. No one had noticed her absence. That was good. It was better this way.

Brie took a breath of the sweet-scented air and ducked into the passageway. She would only be a moment. And the others would be alright. She knew they would.

Bilbo didn't know how long Brie had been gone. That's what frightened him most, that no one could remember the last time they had seen her. And that fear, that guilt, made him uncontrollably angry.

"You were supposed to be looking out for her!" he snapped, causing Nori to bristle and bunch his fists.

"Well I didn't see you paying any mind, did I?" the dwarf snarled, "'Oh, leave her to Nori, I've got more important matters now!' Well, I can't be everywhere at once, can I? Can't have eyes in the back of my head!"

Bilbo nearly swung a fist at him, but Bofur stepped between them at just the right moment, hands held out placatingly.

"She can't have got far," he said soothingly, turning to Ori while Bilbo and Nori continued to glare at each other. "Any thoughts where she might go, Ori? Anything that might have caught her eye on the way here, might have caused her to wander?"

Ori started to shake his head, worrying his hands together. Then he stilled. His dark eyes widened and his breath caught sharply.

"Oh," he gasped, "Oh dear. There… there is one place, but I just… I mean, I never even thought…"

Ori barely managed to speak the rest of his explanation before Bilbo was running, the others shouting uselessly after him. Turning the nearest corner, out of sight, he slipped his hand into his pocket and vanished.

Primroses.

A carpet of what looked like hundreds of primroses blanketed the floor of the immense cavern. Brie shut her eyes and turned her face up to the sunlight pouring from one of the many outlets in the distant ceiling, gripping her shawl close as the breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt. It was like stepping into a dream. This place…it couldn't exist, not here, not in the midst of all this stone. She wondered if perhaps she had gone mad. It was not the first time she had suspected such a thing, that she might be losing her tenuous grip on reality as the threads of her life began to unravel. But the smell…and the breeze against her skin…the feel of the soil beneath her toes. Surely it could not all be a fabrication.

She took another breath and realized it was not just primroses she could smell now. There were other scents, mixed and hard to distinguish, but they drew her forward, stepping carefully, endeavoring not to crush any of the precious blooms at her feet. She nearly tangled herself up in the thick bramble that skirted what looked to be a rough path through the cavern. She pushed aside the speckled flowers (remorse) and stepped out of the field. She could see clusters now, dotted down the winding pathway. She touched her fingers delicately to a cluster of tiny purple bells, her mother's namesake, belladonna (silence) mixed with bright pops of orange adonis (sorrowful remembrance). Further along were lines of tiny blue lint blossoms (I feel my obligations), and the tall, thick stalks of meadow saffron (my best days are past). And around the next corner…

Brie froze. She could hear it now, so faint that it had been lost on the breeze, in the rustling of the leaves around her. The low, rumbling hum that whispered back to her from along the path, reverberating in her chest. His back was to her, his dark hair, streaked with gray, draping over his shoulders and partly obscuring his face. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his fingers sinking into the loose earth that surrounded a cluster of purple pansies (you occupy my thoughts) and words began to cut through the gentle murmur of his humming.

"There I'll make thee beds of roses

And a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;"

"A belt of straw and ivy buds,

With coral clasps and amber studs:

And if these pleasures may thee move,

Come live with me and be my love."

Brie shut her eyes tight, fighting the Fading that roared up out of the depths of her soul and ravaged her resolve. It hurt. Oh, Green Mother, it hurt so much. But she wasn't finished yet. There was still one thing left to do, two hearts left to mend, and she would see it done before she went. It was this slender thread that held her tethered, that brought her back and tamed the Fading again. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes.

He was looking at her. There were darkened circles beneath his eyes, but they still burned, though the rest of his face was a carefully constructed mask. Those eyes nearly unraveled her again, and she directed her attention elsewhere. His beard was longer, but not as long as she might have expected, and streaked with the same gray that plagued his hair. His skin was pale and he was tensed, as if preparing to flee. But from what? From her?

What could the great Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, possibly fear from her?

A realization shot through her like a bolt from the sky. The king… She was in the royal wing. She was intruding, sneaking about where she hadn't been invited. Where she wasn't wanted.

You want her, wizard? Take her back!

She should not be here. She dipped into a belated curtsy, holding her shawl tightly about her.

"I'm sorry, I… I should go."

She turned to make her hasty retreat, back the way she had come.

"Wait."

His voice was a raspy whisper that made her lurch to a stop, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She clenched her jaw and fought through it. She did not dare turn around, but she could feel him approach, familiar warmth at her back. He paused, hesitated. Then he came around, looking down at her with those blazing blue eyes. And she could not help it. She reached out with a shaking hand, tracing a streak of gray beard down the side of his face. Her fingertips tingled where they touched him. He shut his eyes and swallowed, but otherwise held perfectly still, as if afraid that sudden movement might spook her to flight. But she could not have moved if the whole mountain had come down on top of them. She was rooted, like the flowers in this cave, trembling in the breeze.

Green Mother…she still loved him.

If only that were enough.

She dropped her hand, but Thorin caught it and held it with both of his, pulling it to his chest. She could feel the rapid fluttering of a heartbeat pounding underneath.

"Thorin," she said, trying to take her hand back, trying not to let him hear the tears, "Please."

I'm sorry… I love you… Come back…

The ring of drawn steel sang in the air and a small gleaming sword pressed against the dwarf-king's throat.

"Get. Your hands. Off. My sister."

A/N: Oh god, okay, I forgot this chapter ended like this! I promise I will have the next one out soon! Thursday or Friday, if I can!

Khuzdul Translations

Nadad- brother

Adad- father

Amad- mother

Beharê- my supreme friend

Iltin-e, mim khî- Forgive me, little one.