Although Idunn's mind remembered how to work a steel ingot into a sword, her arms certainly did not. Eight years of relative inactivity had left her muscles in a shameful state. Her first day in the forge she had hardly hammered the steel at all before she was exhausted from the effort. It was pitiful leaving a dented lump of a thing out on the workbench where anyone might see it. At least she had the comfort of knowing not many would be foolish enough to peek into the royal forges uninvited, but the thought of it being found was humiliating.
In time, however, her arms began to remember how to do what it was her mind envisioned, and the work came easier. It was still grueling, though, and she accepted a break from her morning routine whenever one came. When Fíli invited Astrid to spend their time together exploring Erebor's vast library, Idunn was willing enough to lay her hammer aside for the day.
The library was easily the size of Uncle Destin's entire chambers back in the Iron Hills, with several rooms offset from the central chamber. Silver oil lamps were set into the walls, with cut glass domes that radiated their light. There were desks for studying, settees for relaxing, and several little iron ladders for reaching the upper shelves.
After much searching among the stacks, Idunn had found a slim volume of the Lays of Belegost and arranged herself in a plush armchair to read. Kíli seemed less than thrilled with their change of pace, and walked about the room like a caged animal. Astrid and Fíli sat together on the other side of the library as they looked over some volume or other.
Whatever had changed between them, their interaction of late gave Idunn more hope for this match than she had yet entertained. Fíli was attentive and Astrid at ease, and while it was not yet enough to build a marriage on, it was a good sign. They had only been together a little over a month - how much more might things change as time went on?
She still watched them out of the corner of her eye when King Thorin appeared in the library doorway. She had thought him imposing enough when seated at the dining room table, but that was nothing to the sight of him looming in the doorway. What he was doing in the library she didn't know, but from the way his eyes roved about the room, it seemed he didn't, either.
After pausing a moment, he walked farther into the library. Idunn realized with a jolt that she had never seen him walk before - always he was fixed in his seat at the dining table or in his council chambers. She saw now that he had a limp, and his right leg didn't move so smoothly as his left. The effect made him look even more dangerous than usual, as though after all he had already been through, nothing could possibly cause him fear.
She noticed that both Fíli and Kíli seemed struck by the king's arrival in the library. They gawked, frozen where they were, and then exchanged curious glances. It was fascinating to watch from Idunn's perspective, although she couldn't guess what it meant.
She assumed he was on some private errand and would go about his own business, but he sat down in an armchair across from her. His flinty eyes were on her as though daring her to have something to say, so of course she spoke.
"Good afternoon, sire."
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Idunn."
"Uncle," Kíli said as he took a seat close to him, "I didn't know you would be joining us today."
"I didn't, myself, but it has been some time since I was here last." He looked about him with the air of one in an old familiar place after a long absence.
"Is everything...all right?" Kíli's worry was almost comical. Maybe the king had never been in the library before, for all his nephew's concern at seeing him there.
"Can I not visit my own library?"
"No, yes, of course," Kíli stammered. He made a show of looking away as though suddenly indifferent to the king's presence.
King Thorin's eyes returned to Idunn, so she focused on her book all the harder. So much for her relaxing day off from trying to please the king.
"What are you reading?" he asked her. When she answered the Lays of Belegost, he wanted to know which one.
"Queen Fulla and her daughters."
His brow moved in a curious way. "An interesting choice."
"It's amusing how the daughters all seek Prince Anar's attention, but he loves only war and battle."
"Very amusing," he said in a tone that was anything but amused.
She returned his stare a moment before turning her eyes back to her book. He seemed always to find fault in whatever she said or did, but the fault was never obvious to her. Maybe her reading selection was a tale for young dwarf-maids, but he likely would have had the same response had she been reading a compendium of Erebor's masonry styles. His attitude galled her, even if he was the king.
"How do you progress with my sword?" His sudden insistence on conversation with her was an odd change from the silence she had grown accustomed to at mealtimes.
"Not at all, sire." He looked surprised at the outright admission. Rather than let him revel in the thought she had given up, she hastily explained. "I have never used your forge before, and am finishing a trial piece to get acquainted with it."
A look crossed his face and Idunn flattered herself that he was impressed, however reluctantly. "What is the trial piece?"
"A sword of simpler design than the one I have in mind, and slightly smaller." It pained her to use such bland words to describe the sword she had been crafting for so many days. A smaller piece than his would be, it was more suited to a female's hand, but in the end would be just as deadly as the one she envisioned for him. As a match to his sword, it had crossed her mind to give it to Lady Dís, but she had never yet seen Dís armed.
"I want to see it when it's finished."
"No, sire, for this is just the trial. I don't know yet if it will be what it should be." It would, she was sure of it, but she would far rather present him with the completed sword he had requested than the dwarrowdam's blade he had derided.
He watched her for a long moment. She would have thought she would have grown used to such continual stares and silences, but they still unsettled her, as though he were finding long-forgotten faults to bring out into the light. After some time, he said, "You say you have been working in my forge?"
"Er, yes." It was a poor time for her to be at a loss for words. Incoherent replies would do nothing for his poor opinion of her. "Balin said I should use it."
King Thorin's eyes never wavered, but his expression was unreadable. Was he unhappy, disappointed, angry? Whatever he felt, he concealed it well.
"Maybe I should come check on your progress," Kíli said to her. Then he turned to Thorin. "And report back, of course."
"No," Idunn said at the same time the king did. Their eyes met and she would have smiled had he shown any inclination to, himself.
"A smith should not be bothered at his work," Thorin said. "Or hers. You would do well to practice your own craft, Kíli. When was the last time you forged a sword or axe?"
Kíli made a show of counting on his fingers. "The Blue Mountains?"
"Then it's time to take it up again."
"I make my own arrows."
The king seemed unimpressed with that revelation. He turned his attention back to Idunn. "Are you well settled in Erebor?"
"I am quite comfortable, sire," she said. "There is much to delight in, and everything I have seen is skillfully wrought. Your artwork is very grand."
He made a noncommittal sound as though he cared little for artwork. "What of the company you keep? Surely you have acquaintance here."
Her mouth turned slightly. "I've been in little company other than royal company since we've arrived."
"And?" Kíli asked, his eyebrows raised in a playful tease. "What do you think of them?"
"Everyone has been agreeable," she said, "with few exceptions."
King Thorin's eyes twitched slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication that he minded if she thought him disagreeable. He shouldn't, as he had taken great pains to be so to her.
"Who has been disagreeable to you?" Kíli asked. "I will take him out and challenge him on the spot."
"I wouldn't advise it," she said. Kíli then seemed to understand her meaning, and made a show of looking alarmed before turning his attention elsewhere.
The afternoon wore on, and Idunn read the same single passage of her book over and over. With King Thorin in the room, she couldn't concentrate and the words seemed to slip through her mind without taking hold. Eventually he selected a book, too, but his occupation did not lessen the oppressiveness of his presence. She mused that he was like a dark storm cloud brewing and one only waited for lightning to strike.
Despite all her expectation to the contrary, he remained in the library until the little group left to prepare for supper. He didn't return to the royal halls with them, but stayed seated with his book. When they bid their goodbyes, he just waved them away as though they had interrupted him.
Once safely out of sight of the library's doors, Fíli and Kíli exchanged curious glances but said nothing. Idunn could not be so restrained. "Was that unusual?" she asked.
The brothers hesitated, which was answer enough. "Uncle is not often in the library," Fíli said.
"He doesn't value reading?" she asked.
"He does," Fíli said, "he's read even more than Balin, and that's saying something." His rush to defend his uncle was touching, even if the king rarely seemed to deserve such devotion. He shrugged, but Idunn could see he was perplexed. "Like I said, Thorin does as he sees fit."
He did indeed.
Fíli sat at the council table as trade talks dissolved into argument. As many meetings as they had been through on this, they hadn't yet reached a consensus. Erebor's merchants felt any trade deal would unduly benefit the smaller population of the Hills far more than the Mountain. To their minds, dwarves who elected to stay in the Hills were writing their own fate, and shouldn't be catered to simply because they were stubborn.
"If we receive a portion of iron from the Hills, what then?" asked one merchant. "Do I get the same rates for our ore? What am I supposed to tell my miners?"
"It's not just iron," another piped up. "Steelworks, weaponry, any number of goods."
"What can we get from the Hills that we cannot get here?" asked the first. "I say this as one born and bred there, but it's time to let the Hills die. Extending the trade arrangement will only drag out the death."
"The sooner the dwarves of the Iron Hills abandon them and remove here, the better," said a third. "And Dáin, too, for Mahal knows we could use a battle axe like him on the throne."
Suddenly the table went silent. The merchants all got shifty and looked at the table or each other - anywhere but at Fíli.
"I think that's enough talk for today." He kept his voice deathly quiet. He had no tolerance for slights against his uncle and king, but he would keep his temper in check. Punching a merchant in the middle of trade talks would only make him feel better in the short term.
Balin dismissed the merchants and showed them out of the council chambers. When he sat down again, he watched Fíli warily. "That wasn't the first time you've heard such talk."
"No." The whispers Fíli had caught of similar sentiments were bad enough, but this was the first time such words had been spoken directly in front of him, however accidentally.
Balin sighed. "So you see the predicament you're in. Stitch one kingdom out of two realms. When more than half our numbers were once led by Dáin, well, you can see where thoughts turn."
"What can we do?" Fíli asked.
"Let's see, now," Balin said as he leaned back in his chair. "A renewed trade deal would be a start. A union with a lass from the Hills would help things along, too." Balin's eyes glinted, but his message was clear: they were already doing what they could.
"What about the other concern?" Fíli asked. "They have more confidence in Dáin than Thorin."
All teasing disappeared from Balin's expression. "That side of it is more troubling. Thorin's not the same dwarf he once was since the Great Battle."
"An injured leg shouldn't be enough to make him unfit for the throne."
"No, I don't mean that, lad, it's his heart." Balin paused and glanced around, but they were alone in the great room. "When he first saw you and your brother on the battlefield he thought you were dead. You, run through with an orc blade, and Kíli covered in blood, well what else could he think? I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw you. That was a dwarf who had just lost everything."
Balin slowly shook his head but kept his gaze intent on Fíli. "He's tried to make amends after how he behaved while the Gold Sickness was on him, but he'll never forgive himself for his mistakes. He'd rather die than risk such hurt to you lads again."
"He can't protect us from everything. We are grown and can face our challenges on our own."
"Like night raids on orcs?" Balin gave him a sly look. "I've heard tell the Princes of Erebor have taken their place in the fight, and I'm proud of you lads. But it's only a matter of time before word reaches Thorin."
Fíli knew it. The soldiers wouldn't keep quiet for long, nor did he want them to. Part of the reason for his involvement was to let the dwarves of the Mountain know he would not shy away from battle. The rest was to let himself remember the same. Perhaps that was all Uncle needed, too. "Thorin should join us."
"Aye, that he should. Do you want to be the one to tell him?"
Fíli had to laugh at that. Telling Uncle what he must do was a fool's errand. Even so, the Dwarves of Erebor needed to see that their King was willing to defend them, or talk of Dáin leading them would become more than mere restlessness.
"He grows too close, too confined," Balin said. "In truth, he's more like his dear enemy the elven king than he should like to hear."
Fíli exhaled a bitter laugh, fearing the dwarf who dared say such things to Thorin would lose his head for his efforts. "About the elven king," he said slowly, "he mentioned something at our audience - that we have something of his, something we have no right to. Is that true?"
The elven king's light accusation of treachery had weighed on Fíli. Worse, Thorin hadn't quite met his eye when he asked him about it - there must be some truth to Thranduil's insinuation, or else why would Thorin hesitate? A rage against Thranduil's lies would have set Fíli's mind to rest, but a vague evasion only posed more questions.
Balin's features fell, but he nodded. "I wasn't there, mind, but not long before the dragon came, King Thranduil brought gems to us for our master jewelers to set into a necklace. When he returned to collect them..." He trailed off, seeming reluctant to go on. He drew a deep breath. "It was late into King Thrór's sickness, you see. He didn't want to part with the gems. He demanded three times the agreed price. King Thranduil counted it theft. Neither party has forgotten, as you know."
Oh, he knew. Thorin's hatred of the elf king was no secret, but now Fíli understood some part of Thranduil's side of the bitter animosity. Dwarves and elves had long been divided, but this lingering resentment was personal.
"The gems," he asked, "what were they?"
"White gems, flawless as the stars themselves, or so I heard. The necklace was for King Thranduil's wife, who died before the work was completed."
"And Thorin knows this?"
A grim smile crossed Balin's face. "He knows."
"So?" Bard said as a maid scampered away after setting out things for tea in Thorin's study. "To what do I owe this honor? It's not often I am invited to Erebor."
"Two kings cannot have a pleasant conversation?" Thorin asked.
"I suppose they may," Bard conceded. "But in my experience, two kings cannot have a meaningless one."
Thorin met with him so little, he easily forgot Bard was no mere bargeman or bowman suddenly turned king. Bard was the rightful ruler of Dale not just through valor but by blood, and the man wasn't swayed by empty words. They were both too straightforward for small talk anyway.
"What news of orcs on your borders?" Thorin asked. "We found weapons of Dale on a small band my soldiers cut down."
"I've had no losses, if that's what you're asking. The orcs are more nuisance than threat, but I don't like them hovering at the edges of our sight. I would like to pursue the last traces of them and wipe them out, but my men can only do so much."
"You speak as though you stand alone against the orcs."
"My neighbors to the north and west care more for protecting their own than working together to eliminate our mutual enemies," he said, his dark eyes keen on Thorin.
"We all suffered losses and have had to rebuild."
"Oh, aye," Bard said, "and how do you think the orcs have been spending their time?"
It was an ill thought that Thorin little liked to consider. Perhaps they were rebuilding their own cursed holes and increasing their hordes. He doubted enough had survived the Great Battle to renew their strongholds, and yet the increased sightings troubled him.
"Was this what you wanted in inviting me here?" Bard asked. "To drink tea and talk orcs?"
So much for his attempt at pleasantries.
"It has come to our attention that Dale has reached an agreement with the Woodland Realm," Thorin said. Bard's easy expression altered slightly - a narrowing of his eyes, a twitch of his mouth, but Thorin saw it all the same.
"Yes, we are on good terms with the Woodland Realm." Bard lifted a mug of tea and drank as though he couldn't be more at ease. He knew exactly what Thorin was saying, but refused to offer more information than necessary.
"I would advise caution when dealing with the Elven King."
"Ah," Bard said with an air of having being affected by Thorin's words. "And should I use the same caution when dealing with the Dwarf King?"
"I want to know that I do not need to set troops between Erebor and Dale."
"I have no quarrel with you, Thorin." Bard set his mug back down and sat up straighter in his chair. "Do not make trouble where none is brewing."
"Where Thranduil goes, trouble always follows."
"I could say the same for another king I know. An attack by a dragon, Laketown's destruction, a battle with every orc and goblin in the eastern reaches - King Thorin brings his own trouble, wouldn't you say?"
"I've duly paid for my mistakes," he said in a low voice.
"In gold, perhaps. Not in actions."
"Not in actions?" Thorin repeated, the insult raising his ire. "Have I not sent masons to Dale for the rebuilding efforts? Have I not signed ample trade agreements with your merchants and farmers?"
"Oh, aye," Bard said, "you've signed papers easily enough. But what of you? You've not stepped foot in Dale, not even for my coronation."
Thorin scoffed. "Fíli and Kíli were present, with my blessings."
"And an honor it was, but one might be inclined to take offense at the King of Erebor's absence."
So that was it? Bard's hurt feelings? "One might be inclined to take offense at a great many things."
"Which brings us back to the purpose of this meeting."
"I am not speaking of mere wounded pride," Thorin said, tempering the anger that stormed within him. "Elves and men once came to my doorstep with the threat of war. That is no easy thing to forget."
"Yet you forget you brought that war to your own doorstep."
Thorin clenched his jaw until his muscles ached. What he wouldn't give for an afternoon in the training rooms instead of this useless verbal sparring.
"Look," Bard said, raising his hands as though offering peace, "whatever is between you and the elves doesn't concern Dale. We had trade with the Woodland Realm long before you returned to Erebor, and there is no sense in ending such alliances now. I seek only peace and prosperity for Dale, not anyone else's undoing."
"If you seek an alliance with Thranduil you will find only betrayal."
"Sometimes betrayal takes us by surprise." Bard's mouth pulled into a bitter smile. "And sometimes we see it coming a long way off."
The words were like icy shards in Thorin's chest. "I've known Thranduil longer than you have," he said coolly. "I only thought to warn you."
Bard inclined his head slightly. "I appreciate your concerns for Dale, but in this, I think, they are unfounded."
It was as much as Thorin could expect. Their meeting didn't last much longer before Bard excused himself to return to Dale, leaving Thorin to while away his frustration. All these reminders of his failures seemed to eat away at his insides. He hated meeting with Bard, for the sure knowledge the man would never forget all Thorin had done. He might forgive and move forward, but he couldn't forget simply because Thorin wanted him to. He could still see Bard's face, pleading with him to keep his word and avoid war. His mind might have been taken up with sickness, but every bitter scene of his degradation was still vivid in his memory. Not even the huge stores of gold he had sent to Dale in the last years could bury such thoughts.
Why should Bard put trust in him when he had so thoroughly proven himself unworthy of it?
.
.
Thank you to everyone reading along and taking the time to review!
