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4. The Choice of Lúthien

"…for mine is the choice of Lúthien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter."

~ Arwen, The Return of the King

In the Temple of Eru, before an altar on which candles were lit and incense burned, were knelt Manwë and Aulë.

For many minutes the smith was restless, unable to find the calm he needed to commune with the All Father. He knew that Manwë was being supportive in his silence, but eventually the king spoke to him.

"Brother, I sympathize with you, truly, but Eru will not hear your plea if you speak from a place of anger."

Aulë sighed. "I know. Forgive me, brother, it's just… I feel this betrayal as a personal slight. Mairon was once one of my finest pupils—not only did he forsake my teachings when he turned to the darkness, he has attacked my children. To attack my children is to attack me."

"I wonder if Ilúvatar felt anything akin to that when Morgoth sought to destroy Arda," Manwë observed.

Aulë tilted his head, now wondering the same. He then drew a deep breath and once more closed his eyes. As he fought to lock his anger away and focus on the light and power that flowed through him—his greatest gifts from Eru—he exhaled slowly. A measure of peace soon settled his tormented spirit, and it was not long until he felt the warmth of Ilúvatar's presence in his mind.

I know why you are come to me, my son.

"Please, let us help them," Aulë pleaded aloud. "Do not allow the treachery of Sauron to go unanswered."

What would you have me do? The Sons of Durin have already accepted their fate.

"But it was not their fate! Did you not show Manwë that an early death was not their destiny? My Lord, Sauron thwarted your will by using necromancy to resurrect a vicious enemy of my children—will you really do nothing?"

Aulë immediately regretted the words and their inherent lack of respect. "Forgive me, Father."

The peoples of Middle-earth must be allowed to make their own way. The Valar and the Maiar are meant to guide them, not fight their battles for them. Only when their hope is gone are you to intervene.

Shock coursed through the Vala. Never had Aulë imagined Eru would take no action when his divine plan had been purposely unraveled. Would the All Father truly allow Sauron's evil actions go unchallenged?

What would you have me do? Ilúvatar asked again.

What did he want him to do? Aulë wondered. Certainly whatever course was set from here would have an impact, but what could they do that would make the greatest difference and do the most good?

A thought—more a memory, really—came to him then: The gloriously beautiful elf-maid Lúthien, whose song of grief for the loss of her mortal love had moved the Keeper of the Dead to pity. Mandos had turned to Manwë for advice, and then as now the two had sought the will of Eru. Ilúvatar had offered Lúthien two choices—to remain in Aman in eternal bliss as reward for her brave actions in life, or return to Middle-earth with Beren to live a new life as a mortal...and eventually die as he would.

Her love for Beren was so deep that she had chosen the latter.

"Can we not return them, my Lord?" Aulë asked. "Grant these three new life. Their deaths are what Sauron desired, let us deny him that!"

Silence met his plea and stretched on for so long that Aulë began to despair that the answer was "No."

It is not fair, he mused sadly, that my sons should be robbed of a full, natural life. I am sorry, Thorin, that I have failed you.

The presence in his mind grew stronger, and Aulë was filled with a sudden belief that all would be well.

If the Sons of Durin are reborn, a price must be paid. All cannot be as it was.

"I am sure they will agree," Aulë replied earnestly.

Do not be so certain. Thorin Oakenshield is terribly proud—he may not be so willing to return when you tell him that the kingship of Erebor will not be his for the taking. He has given it up in death, he must give it up in life. It is but one of a number of concessions they all will be required to make. Young Kíli is even now being made aware that he would not have his heart's desire.

"So things will change. Surely returning to life, any life at all, is better than having their lives stolen from them altogether."

That will be for the three of them to decide.

-...-

Fíli watched his brother and worried for him. Kíli had said next to nothing since his encounter with Tauriel in the nether-realm, only speaking briefly with her parents to say he hoped he'd done enough.

Afterward, they had been at last led to the Great Forge to be reunited with their ancestors. Thorin's reunion with his father, mother, grandfather, and brother Frerin was emotional, despite his uncle clearly trying to hold his feelings in check. Fíli himself had been hard-pressed to keep from shedding a few tears when he'd seen his father. Síli had cried unabashedly as they embraced, his arms tight around him, his own father Sidig standing off to one side. When it was Kíli's turn to be wrapped in a bear hug, he responded by stiffening, then relaxing and allowing himself to be held.

Then Síli said something in his ear that led to his returning the hug and crying into his shoulder.

More relatives from days past came to speak to them, so many that Fíli lost count. He soon forgot which name went to which face. Feeling like he'd never be able to keep up, he settled on an old, familiar behavior to help himself cope with all the overwhelming feelings scratching their way to the forefront of his thoughts, the ones that had been simmering just below the surface ever since he had woken in the Halls of Mandos and known he was dead.

He looked after his brother.

There was a large gathering of the Line of Durin (and a dozen or more others related by blood or marriage) sitting around an immense table while Thorin spoke of the quest to reclaim Erebor—even Durin the Deathless had come! They sat forward when he described the great battle, listening eagerly. Fíli joined in, offering his view where necessary, but his eyes often strayed to Kíli, who sat brooding in silence to his left. When food and ale were served (apparently even disembodied spirits needed to eat), he pressed a mug into his brother's hand and encouraged him to drink. Now and again, he prodded him to eat.

Every dwarf at the table—in the room, for that matter—stood and bowed their heads when Mahal entered, the King of the Valar by his side. His eyes surveyed the room, and on catching sight of them, headed over to their table.

Thorin was the first to speak. "My Lords, you honor us with your presence."

Manwë nodded his head, then looked to Mahal. "My son, I must speak with you and your nephews at once," the Maker said.

Thorin's eyes turned to Fíli's, and his to Kíli's. Fíli then looked to the two Valar and said, "Is something wrong, my Lord?"

"Not in the sense you mean, child. Come with me and I will explain," Mahal replied.

Fíli looked once more to Thorin, who looked to his father and brother. "Go, my son," Thráin encouraged him, and Thorin nodded.

His uncle rounded the table and Fíli followed in silence, Kíli at his side. Mahal and Manwë led them to a comfortably appointed parlor, the Maker regarding all three of them before he said, "I have spoken with the All Father regarding the fell deed that lead to your deaths. We are granted leave to present you with two choices."

Thorin looked between the two angelic beings. "What are these choices?"

"You can remain here in Aman, working in the Great Forge with your maker and your kin," said Manwë. "Your lives here will be filled with plenty and peace. It is the same reward you would have been given had you passed as originally you were meant to."

To Fíli that really didn't sound too bad. Yes, he would miss his mother. He would miss his friends, and some cousins with whom he'd been particularly close. But he would see them again, surely, when their time came.

"And the other choice?" asked Kíli, speaking for the first time in hours.

Mahal's gaze fell on him. "Ilúvatar has said he will grant you rebirth, a choice never before presented to any of your kin. However, if you choose to foil the devious plot wrought by Sauron and walk this path, there will be prices to pay."

"What prices?" Thorin asked with a frown.

"I do not know them all, for the All Father did not tell me," Mahal replied, "but one he mentioned would be the loss of your kingship."

"Uncle, no! You cannot give that up, after fighting so hard for it!" Fíli exclaimed.

The older dwarf shook his head. "Fíli, I have already given it up—I am dead, remember? Rule of Erebor was clearly not meant to be mine."

"But it was—Mahal said so!"

"In another lifetime it was, and that life was already stolen from me. I meant what I said before: my life I would give a hundred times over to see you and your brother returned to yours. If passing the kingship of Erebor to you is the price—"

"It will not be his, either."

They both looked to Mahal. "I am sorry, my son," he said, "but that is a price that Fíli must pay if he desires to return to Middle-earth. Your kinsman Dáin Ironfoot is now King Under the Mountain, and he will be until the twilight of the Third Age."

Thorin's expression was incredulous. "You mean to tell me that the penance to be exacted for choosing to be reborn is that rule over the seven families must be forsaken by the senior Sons of Durin? Not even Kíli will be king?"

Kíli snorted derisively. "That is not my price, Uncle, and even if it were I would not care. My price is already paid."

Fíli's brow furrowed in consternation. His brother's attitude must have something to do with what happened in the nether-realm. He placed a hand on Kíli's shoulder. "Kee, what—?"

Kíli shrugged him off, his eyes on Mahal. "I will go back, if only to see my amad that I may keep the promise I made to her."

The Maker looked to Manwë and they both nodded. Fíli sighed deeply, then said, "I suppose I shall go back with him. Someone will have to keep him out of trouble."

"I'm not a child, Fíli," his brother bristled. "I don't need looking after like some wayward dwarfling."

"That you think so proves otherwise. Besides, I'd break my own promise to Amad if I let you go alone."

Kíli looked to him then, and after a moment the tight set of his shoulders relaxed a fraction and he nodded curtly.

"Thorin?"

Fíli studied his uncle as he locked gazes with their maker. Though his expression betrayed nothing, having known the dwarrow his entire life—and beyond—he knew that he was wrestling with the decision. There was merit in both choices, and it was just like Thorin to measure the pros and cons of each before choosing a course of action.

"I would speak with my father, grandfather, and brother if I may," he said at last. "Fíli and Kíli should speak to their father as well."

"Certainly. I will send for them that they may join you here," Mahal told him.

The Vala stepped out of the parlor, then returned a moment later to inform them that a page had been sent for their kinsmen. They waited but a few minutes for the four dwarves to arrive.

It was Thorin who laid their choices out for them, and a moment of silence followed before Thrór said, "If going back will be a thorn in the side of that fell creature—whether you are king or no—then do it. Don't let my failings be yours. Do not let the dark side win, Sigindashat."

"Sigin'adad is right," added Frerin. "And so what if you are not king? Yes, it was your birthright, but you do not need to be a king to do good for our people"

Thorin snorted. "But why must Fíli and Kíli pay the price for my choice?" he fumed.

"It is their choice to pay that price," offered Síli, who looked to Mahal. "Is it not, my Lord?"

Mahal inclined his head in agreement, and Fíli felt his father's eyes on him. "As much as I wish to be with you, my dashshat, better that you come back to the Great Forge when you are old and gray instead of young dwarrow who've not even had the chance to court a female. I would have you go back to your amad that she does not suffer the loss of her children as well as those who have gone before you, which will leave her alone in the world."

"Do not worry, Adad," Kíli replied firmly. "I will not leave our mother to the cold embrace of despair."

Fíli nodded. "In this we are in complete accord. We've a chance to spare her the grief of our loss, so we will take it."

His father looked to him with love and pride in his eyes, and Fíli felt emotion swell in his chest when he took him and his brother by the head as Thorin had done earlier that day, touching his brow to theirs.

"What say you, Thorin Oakenshield?" Manwë asked. "Will you remain in the Great Forge with your forebears, or follow the desire of your maker and thwart the dark will of the Deceiver?"

Fíli stood back from his father to look over at his uncle. He found Thorin watching them, and then he looked to Thrór, Thráin, and Frerin in turn. At last his eyes once more met those of Mahal, and with a sigh he said, "I will go back, and discover what new destiny awaits me in my second life. Perhaps I will be surprised and find that I like being freed from the burden of kingship."

"Perhaps you will," said Mahal with a smile.

Khuzdul:

Sigindashat – Grandson

Sigin'adad – Grandfather

dashshat – sons