Fíli lost his way twice.
The Reading Hall was tucked in behind the bustle of the main streets; a nondescript stone façade amongst many similarly restored buildings, so at first glance he had not taken it for what it was. But then his eyes caught the sign that hung over a side street announcing the Reading Hall of Dale, and he strode towards it.
Hesitating for a moment, his hands splayed upon the wooden double-doors, he squared his shoulders and pushed them open only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.
The Hall appeared to have been repaired only recently. The dark wooden bookshelves that lined the high stone walls still carried the smell of the forest, permeating the air with a fresh earthy scent. Yet the shelves were only sparsely filled. Volumes were speckled here and there across the shelves and a great many still stood empty. But what caught his breath was the High narrow windows ran the length of the hall, catching the sunlight and filtered it through the ornate silhouettes of iron work that lay across them. These patterns were wrought in the likeness of figures, fire, and dragons so that the shadows they cast upon the length floor told a story; the story of Dale.
The shadows from the two opposing walls fell on either side of carpeted walkway that led down the centre of the Reading Hall. In a daze, Fíli followed the story, crouching down at the shadow of a particular panel to trace a familiar outline.
"It seems like a legend when you see it like that."
He stood up quickly, spinning around to see the Lady Sigrid standing behind him, an old leather-bound book in her hands as she gazed at the shadow.
"Sometimes it doesn't feel quite real…any of it; Smaug, Da; a King, me; a Princess…" she trailed off, her eyes fixed on a panel that depicted the outline of Dale, a tall acorn tree sprouting from within its walls.
Fíli opened his mouth, but the words that he had planned on saying would not come.
She broke from her reverie and looked up at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
He was relieved to hear the hostility in her voice from the night before was gone, but the hurt still evident in her eyes.
He swallowed. "I came to say that I was wrong when I said that you didn't belong at the council because you stole from me."
When Sigrid raised an eyebrow Fíli hastened to correct himself.
"Or because you are a Princess, and not a King or heir."
The narrowing of Sigrid's eyes told him that this was going from bad to worse.
"What I mean is…" he floundered around for the right words that wouldn't offend her any further.
Sigrid just stared at him. "You're not very good at giving apologies, are you?"
"No. No I'm not." Fíli admitted with a sigh.
"You could try saying sorry?" she suggested.
"Is that all it takes?"
"Well, it depends on how you say it but sometimes, yes."
"Then, I'm sorry." He said sincerely.
"And I forgive you." She swallowed. "About what I said last night; it wasn't about you. Actually, it was about you, a bit." Sigrid corrected herself hastily. "I was angry at you and I did mean what I said, but you didn't deserve to be shouted at, regardless of the fact that what you said was rude, hurtful, conceited and-" She stopped at the expression on his face.
"You're not very good at apologies, are you?" Fíli smirked.
Sigrid smiled faintly. "I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven. We both said things that we regret."
Sigrid nodded and held out her hand in the space between them. "Friends?"
"Friends." Fíli shook her hand, feeling the gesture was oddly formal considering all that had happened.
Sigrid let go and turned away, walking to sit at a desk laden with old books.
Fíli watched her go. He ought to have been satisfied; she had forgiven him, his conscience was cleared. And yet Fíli could not reconcile himself to walk out those doors as things were now, something held him there.
"Lady Sigrid."
She looked up, one of the shadows from the window above darkening her face. "Yes?"
"I want you to teach me."
Sigrid frowned in confusion.
"Yesterday you didn't think I was worthy of leading my people. Would you teach me what is it that makes a worthy King so that I can try to be better?"
Sigrid stared at him, stunned. Just yesterday he had accused her of meddling in political affairs, yet today he wanted her advice, her advice, on how to be a good King to his people.
Fíli waited, biting his lip nervously until she seemed to come to a decision.
Sigrid beckoned him towards her desk, and he followed the path of shadows towards her. When Sigrid pulled out a chair beside hers and indicated for him to sit, he did so, marvelling at the stack of decaying books set out on the fresh table before them.
"I found these when we were shifting the rubble from the old Hall." She explained, tracing the leather bindings. "One day as we searched I pulled back a loose stone in the ground and found them hidden and protected from the fire. There was nothing left of the building; the wood and paper had burned and the ashes had blown away…but not these." She pulled a volume towards her and delicately opened it to reveal faded writing and complicated sketching. "You see, I'd been helping to make a record of those days; to write down the stories of those we lost in the fires and in the battle so that they would never be forgotten. But and I always wondered why somebody would have hidden these away, and it wasn't until I was taking the records of a descendant of Old Dale that I finally learnt the story."
Fíli sat transfixed by her words and the way her voice wavered in their telling.
"His name was Dryw, and all his life he had been the Keeper of the Chronicles of Dale, an apprentice to his father before him. But on the day the dragon came, Dryw's wife had dragged him away from the Hall." A faint melancholy smile tugged at the corner of Sigrid's lips. "She wanted him to come to market with him and spend a day in the sun with living people instead of his books. So at least they were close enough to the gates when the fires began." Sigrid shuddered, and Fíli imagined that her own memory of flames flickered behind her eyes. "But when they reached the gate Dryw looked back into the inferno… and let go of his wife's hand. He told her to run, and that he would follow; he needed to ensure that he had done his duty as the Keeper of the Chronicles. She begged him not to, pleaded for him to come with her; told him that he was more important than his books. But all his life Dryw had believed that the books he kept were the beating heart of his city. He believed that the Chronicles would be a guide for the future; the map from which Kings would plot the great course of our world. So he went back… and he never returned."
Her voice trembled and Fíli's hand twitched instinctively to reach out and squeeze hers, but he restrained himself, feeling that it would be improper.
"And Dryw was right; in these books I have found everything that our ancestors knew about how to summon the best produce from the land, and the secrets of the tiny threads of water that flow beneath the earth. That's how we have managed to make do with the little land we have."
Sigrid looked up at Fíli.
"One man believed in the future of Dale even as it was falling to ash upon the ground. So he sacrificed everything for that vision." She jabbed a finger at one of the leather-bound volumes. "He would have made a great King."
Fíli said nothing. Instead, he stood abruptly, pacing along the empty bookcases with his hands to his head.
All his life, all his lessons, all his training had taught him to fulfil an image of the past; to restore and rebuild what had been lost. Nobody had spoken about creating. Nobody had talked about building a new. Nobody, except her. It suddenly dawned on Fíli that he could never be the king that Sigrid had described.
He reached the end of the row and span back around and strode back to where Sigrid sat watching him with concern. "Fíli, is it something I said?"
"How do you do it?" He pleaded of her.
"Do what?"
"Do that!" He exclaimed, gesturing to the books. "You have more passion for your people, and more conviction than I have… in my entire being!" He ran a hand through his tangled hair.
"Fíli," She almost laughed. "Look at you! This is what passion feels like; to want the best for your people and to do everything in your power to provide for them. The Fíli I saw during that meeting might have cared more for his pride than for his responsibility to his people," Sigrid said sternly. "But he wasn't the only one nor will he be the last."
His gaze fell to the old volumes. "What if I can't do it?" he asked quietly. "What if I can't be the King they deserve?"
She reached out, placing a gentle hand over his. "Everyone had doubts, I know I do. I'm terrified that I can't be enough; not a good enough daughter, not a good enough sister… not a good enough Princess." She swallowed. "But my Da told me that if one man offers what he has, no matter how small, then somebody else can have more than they started with."
He looked down at her hand on his, her delicate fingers calloused but gentle upon his own. He had never spoken the words aloud before, not even to Kíli.
In the distance a bell tolled to announce the reconvening of the Council, and Sigrid withdrew her hand. Fíli's fingers suddenly felt oddly cold without hers.
"We should go." Sigrid sighed, placing her quill between the pages of the open book and closing it with a look of regret. She stood up. "Are you coming?"
Fíli blinked, shaking himself mentally before remembering his manners. He held out his elbow to her. "May I escort you, Lady Sigrid?"
She raised an eyebrow. "How is it that yesterday you were shouting that the Mirkwood Prince was a 'beardless tree swiving pixie', and yet today you are the very image of decorum?" she took his arm.
He grinned and shrugged. "A talent. Although you haven't seen anything until you've seen my mother at Council with my uncle. They might seem like they're in agreement, but if words were swords my mother could put the fiercest warrior to shame." He considered for a moment. "Come to think of it, I remember the fear in Dwalin's eyes when Thorin told my mother that she couldn't come on the quest."
Sigrid laughed at the thought of the fearless burly warrior afraid of Fíli's mother. It was loud and unrestrained, and it came from that place people too often buried away. Fíli found that he rather liked the sound.
"I would like to hear those stories sometime." She said as they walked between the shadows towards the double doors.
Fíli nodded. "Aye, but we will need more time that this for such tales." He glanced sideways at her. "Perhaps for now we can discuss your encouraging of my brother's death wish?"
Sigrid grinned as they stepped together through the double doors. "Yes, let's discuss how I had to spend my morning threatening and consoling a mildly traumatised member of my father's guard because he found your brother sleeping half naked in the arms of an Elf."
Fíli groaned and shook his head as they made their way towards the Council Hall.
Random Question:
I like to write each chapter to a different song because it helps ground me in one place. This got me thinking; Kiliel has it's own 'theme song', what would a Figrid 'theme song' sound like?
Would it take different elements of certain songs (eg. Durin's folk, Bard: a man of Laketown), or would it be its own thing?
What do you guys think?
Reviews:
Sofasoap: thank you very much for reading and commenting! Yes, Kíli needs to be more careful because Thorin certainly won't be as forgiving, or will he? ;) They really do owe Sigrid a lot!
ThatOtherWriterGirl: Hehe thank you :) it was so much fun to write! I love translating 'modern' scenarios into the Middle Earth world.
Imagine how many of the Durins' problems would be resolved if they weren't so stubborn and actually spoke about their feelings!
Poor Sigrid; her heart is pulling her in two directions.
Margaritasc : I'm so glad that you enjoyed it, and thank you that is a huge compliment!
whilewewereyetsinners: Your summary is funnier than the whole scene!