A/N:Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows!
Angie: Thanks for taking the time to leave me a review again! I appreciate your dedication to this story! :) It was definitely fun to write Edúr's imagined description of Thorin, she couldn't possibly be more off haha ;p And don't worry about your English! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter too!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This is solely a non-profit fan activity, and in no way intends to infringe on copyrights held by Tolkien/MGM/New Line Cinema.
Chapter VII
AS his eyes wandered over the curved blade shimmering in the light of flames dancing below it he felt a familiar itch in his fingers, tempting him to take Orcrist down from its resting place above the huge hearth in the Council Chamber and close them around the hilt to wield it with deadly force and precision. Containing the impulse, irrational as he knew it was, Thorin turned his back towards the roaring fire, spitting out with heartfelt indignation, "You did what?!"
Balin closed his eyes at the harsh bark his voice had turned into at the end of that terse sentence and wrinkled his forehead as if he was suddenly plagued by a terrible headache. He let out a deep sigh then opened them again. Taking another few steps in his direction the old Dwarf began repeating the arguments he had already -and futilely- offered him but a moment ago.
"They were weary of their travel and I simply took the liberty of having them moved some place other than the dungeons."
"Why? It is where they belong." Thorin dismissed his explanation with an ireful growl.
"I felt one of the guest quarters on the South Wing was more suitable. Well, more suitable than a prison cell, at least." The old Dwarf attempted again to convince him but to little avail.
"Balin. I had no choice. My grandfather had no choice. Those Dwarves are nothing more than descendants of a would-be murderer. Of a traitor.." Thorin lowered his voice, closing the remaining distance between him and his trusted advisor and friend, placing both his hands on the Dwarf's shoulders, "They belong to the House of Agor. Their fate was sealed long ago."
Balin looked back at him in earnest, eventually nodding slowly. The relief he felt to know that he had gotten through to the Dwarf soon proved to be premature for Balin cocked his head to the side and mumbled in his usually sagely manner, "A very old bloodline. And a noble stock too if I recall.."
Irritated that his words had clearly not been taken as he had intended them, Thorin let his hands slide of Balin's shoulders and whisked around, muttering darkly under his breath though he made sure it was loud enough for the other Dwarf to hear, "Aye, noble enough to turn on their King!"
"Thorin." It was Dwalin now that addressed him, the gravity in which he spoke making him instantly wary. Before he could turn to the seasoned warrior, however, Balin shook his head and Dwalin held back on whatever else he had wanted to say.
"I will tell him." Balin pressed his sibling, conspiratorially raising a hand to quell the tell-tale signs of protests as Dwalin first grumbled moodily, then pointedly pressed his lips together with a deep frown and eventually started pacing the length of the room.
"Tell me what?" Thorin asked the both of them demandingly, eyes cutting from Dwalin's receding back to Balin's troubled face, not liking that he did not know what the exchange between the two had meant.
"Tell me!" He pressed them, not caring his raised voice bounced off the walls, he had not been able to contain the anger still boiling close under the surface because of what had happened in the Gallery of Kings, it had in fact increased another notch with the apparent betrayal of his friend and the enigmatic behavior of him and his brother alike.
At first there was only the sound of Dwalin's heavy boots as he stubbornly continued pacing and put them down with more force than was necessary. Ignoring the repetitive clunk-clunk-clunk of metal on marble, Balin took a deep breath, round stomach inflating and nostrils widening. But the words he had been on the verge of saying died on his lips when the doors to the Council Chamber suddenly swung open and a figure clad almost entirely in black and grey damask strode inside. The Dwarrowdam had an elegance to her that was almost undwarflike, so was the fact that she was remarkably light on her feet. Her sturdy built and short stature, however, removed all doubt that she was in fact of their race.
"Ah, I thought I heard your charming voice, Brother." Dís remarked as she approached, her voice aloof and tired, "You better have a good reason for trying to punch a hole in the mountain with your temper, I am sure it has stolen my sleep from me for the rest of the night." She inclined her head to Balin and Dwalin when they bent low in bows of reverence as she passed them, causing the rings set with precious stones piercing her earlobes and crawling all the way over the ridges to swing back and forth, emitting a clear tinkling like that of a wind chime.
Thorin relaxed instinctively in her presence, regardless of the admonishing tone in which she had addressed him and, anger receding somewhat, he patiently watched her near him. Although rare for a Dwarf belonging to the royal family, she wore but few ornaments or jewels, especially now in her time of grief. She had removed her ruby covered diadem -her most valuable heirloom- and instead simple strings of black pearls covered her one thick light-grey braid like a net giving him once again the impression of droplets of ink clinging to a cobweb. There was a flicker of gold and his eyes had strayed to the heavy chain around her neck before he could stop himself. He just managed to swallow a curse as his heartrate increased at the sight of the amulet dangling from it, disappearing now and then in the folds of the black-grey damask on which it rested. The gold seemed to have acquired an even richer and more enticing glow in the light of the blazing fire. He should not be drawn to it. Should not feel feverish to the bone, even if for a split second, upon beholding the exquisite beauty and sheer magnificent glimmering of it.
"Sister." Thorin greeted her, eyes cast down and fearing a hint of the guilt he felt for more reasons than he dared to count had seeped into his voice. Whether she had noticed this or not, he could tell by the tinkle of her earrings that she had nodded to him in what he knew was her forgiveness. Next moment she had moved away and sank down in one of the chairs near the hearth. Even throughout their childhood they had never stayed angry at each other for long -ever after their Brother Frerin's death it seemed neither was inclined to part before an argument had been resolved- and he was relieved that despite their long separation this was still the case. He only wished he could have welcomed her back to a different Erebor. To a Kingdom in which Durin's line was secure in Fíli and Kíli and she could have spent the rest of her days with that reassuring knowledge.
"What is it you were talking of? And if it is politics you need not make an effort to involve me in the conversation." Dís inquired, her usual wit shimmering through -she was in fact a far shrewder and cunning politician than he could ever hope to be- though sounding a little bored at the same time. Thorin gladly took it as a sign that she was rallying and had started to resemble herself a bit more again despite her present sorrow for the loss of both her sons. In a strange way it gave him hope for himself though he doubted not that it would take many more moons for the both of them to feel less sad. Still, it was a comfort to him to know they at least had each other.
Seeing Balin and Dís had always gotten along well it surprised him that the old Dwarf showed no sign of an amused smile working its way to his lips nor did he give any inclination that he had heard his Sister's question at all. Thorin doubted his eyes had even left his own face, which instantly served to remind him of his strange behavior before Dís had interrupted. The fact that he still could not read the expression on the Dwarf's face made him even more determined to find out what was bothering him.
"I do not know. Tell me, Balin, what exactly is it we were talking of?" With his periphery vision Thorin could see Dís raising a quizzical brow at his rather unusual request where it made Dwalin pace in an even tighter circle and Balin momentarily freeze. Eventually, after his younger brother urged him with a scowl and a grumbled 'He needs to know!' Balin let out an impatient "Yes, yes..!" and cleared his throat importantly albeit somewhat nervously before he finally spoke, "The history of the House of Agor, as you know it, might not have been the entire story. Might not have been, in fact, the true story."
Interest piqued, Dís' chair creaked as she sat up straight and the clanking sounds of Dwalin's boots echoed one last time around the chamber as he finally ceased his pacing.
"I am listening.." Thorin told the old Dwarf, apprehensively awaiting what would come next.
"It pains me to say it but King Thror's fondness... Well, that is, his love of gold is at the core of it."
Trusting that his friend would not have broached this subject save for an important reason that would prompt him to do so, Thorin swallowed hard and repressed the discomfort that had welled up inside of him like a wave that took a boat by surprise. I took him a moment to anxiously exert his control over the unsettling sensation so it -he- would not topple because of it. "Go on.."
"When your grandfather banned that clan from these halls the riches of Erebor had already a strong hold on him. So strong in fact that he was the only one that believed in the guilt of Lord Edínn, Head of the House of Agor. Believed in it so strongly that he imagined his most trusted Councilor to have turned against him. To have meant to rob him of his life.. Many saw the King as he thrusted the dagger into his would-be assassin's hands, guided it to his own heart.."
Balin's voice trailed off but Thorin was grateful he did not pursuit the story now he had already guided him in the direction of it. He lifted his hand and rubbed his forehead in thought as memories of the madness that had taken hold of his grandfather flitted unbidden in and out of his mind. Even after all these years he had not forgotten how Thror, King under the Mountain, had accused many who loved him of trivial things like thievery and deceit just as easily as seeing in them enemies that would usurp his throne, take Erebor's treasures from him. And although it pained him Thorin could not deny that even his own family -his parents, sister and himself- had not escaped his grandfather's paranoia. Thorin clinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, forcefully stopping himself before he would remember more strongly perhaps his own encounter with Dragon Sickness still so fresh it scared him to think of it.
"Do you believe this?" He asked after a long and tense silence, directing the question at Dwalin and only realizing afterwards that his voice had been hoarse with repressed emotion. The Commander of the Royal Guard grunted something incoherent then casted his eyes down.
"He does." Balin spoke for him, adding grumpily with a bit of an accusatory edge to his voice, "though he might not show it."
Thorin nodded in understanding then turned to Dís, "Did you know of this?"
She hesitated for a moment, fingering the golden chain she wore around her neck absentmindedly -Thorin shivered at the rush the glittering of the metal most precious of all sent through him- then shook her head in denial.
"No, but I have suspected it." Dís admitted, voice deep and melancholy as if it too had traveled back from the past just like her thoughts must have.
Thorin turned towards the flames wreathing around the blackened logs, arms outstretched and hands resting against the mantelpiece for support. It was unbearable to realize how, before Dís had walked in, he had felt the urge to grab Orcrist and stab his most trusted friend much like he had now found out his grandfather had been convinced Lord Edrík had done to him. After everything that had happened, did he really still doubt the loyalty of those most dear to him? Question the friendship of those that had accompanied him on his travels, who had fought alongside him in so many battles? His breathing grew heavier and more irregular at every brooding thought that entered his head. No. He had beaten the disease. It had no power over him now. It had not made him blind to see the folly of imprisoning his own kin, of denying the possibility that they were innocent. That their ancestors, their entire clan had not been guilty of the crime that had led to their banishment. He had simply been affected by the parting with Gandalf and Bilbo. That and his grief for his nephews and the weighty responsibility of being the King had temporarily clouded his judgement. That was all...
He almost startled and recoiled from the touch when Dís, who must have risen from her chair without so much as a creak or a tinkle, appeared at his side and touched his shoulder lightly. He could feel Balin and Dwalin were close too, making him yearn for their advice -he would not say help, not even to himself as pride alone stopped him there- even more.
"What can I do..?" He whispered pleadingly nonetheless, knowing his Sister understood he had not just been referring to their guests, but also to the gnawing fear that the Serpent's spell still lay on him.
"How can you be at peace with others if you are not even at peace with yourself..?" She told him sternly, then her expression softened and she turned him in her arms to rest her forehead against his.
"Mainni', nadad*. For both our sakes.."
With no insignificant amount of reluctance did she cup her hands and drowned them once more in the bowl of water in front of her. Though the ice cold liquid had done wonders in waking her up from her deep sleep it also bit at the scratches and gashes on her face and neck, leaving them pricking and stinging. After two more well aimed splashes of water she decided her washing up had been sufficient and she gratefully buried her face in a towel. Relishing the warm and soft embrace of the cloth on her skin as she rubbed it dry -careful not to tear open the wounds and have them start bleeding again- she sank down on the huge four-poster bed that could not have been more different than the woodworm invested bunks in the dungeon cell. The only thing that had not changed was the fact that there were guards stationed outside their chambers, though she had not had the strength to challenge this.
Stretching and repressing a yawn, Edúr had no inkling as to how long she had actually slept, but she could judge by the way her body felt revived that it must, once again, have been many an hour. It was hard to believe she had done nothing but rest for an unbearably long week. She still felt stiff and sore in some places, but it was nothing compared to how she had felt but days ago. Undoubtedly, the assortment of ointments and drafts administered to her by the Healingmaster named Oin had played an indispensable part in curing her of most of the pains and aches that had dug its vengeful claws in her every muscle. The Dwarf with his bushy and somewhat unkempt gray hair had come that first night, moments after Balin had left with Bifur and Bofur. He had practically marched inside and deposited his heavy looking travel chest with a dull thud on the floor, nearly missing her toes in the process. Both Niam and herself had soon found out that the Dwarf, whose beard had been divided into two braids that curled around almost all the way back to their point of origin, was not the type to brook opposition and he had submitted them to a thorough inspection. Edúr had initially tried to resist his prodding and incessant muttering to himself but had admitted defeat when she realized that cooperating would get her the rest she longed for faster.
And so she had patiently waited as Oin had busied himself with turning her around in his hands and lifting and bending -not too carefully- a limb or two to ascertain the lack of any sprains or fractures, all the while a most peculiar tool dangling on a cord around his neck. She had never seen an ear trumpet quite as battered and deformed as the copper one he occasionally buried so deep in his ear she was not sure it was still serving its purpose. A suspicion that had only been strengthened when he had held it uncomfortably close to her mouth whenever she had replied to his inquiries which made him tut-tut in a disapproving tone even when she had just told him the place on her arm he was roughly jabbing with his stubby finger did not, in fact, evoke any pain to shoot through her entire body.
Fortunately, the quirky Healingmaster had more than made up for his unusual methods with his skillful treatment of their wounds. She felt particularly grateful that he had treated Morkai too, though she could tell he had not been used to having rebellious Ravens for patients. Even so he had uttered considerably fewer tut-tuts when he had examined Morkai's wing than when he had gauged her injuries and had limited himself to merely muttering complaints directed at the Keeper of Ravens who apparently was too busy with all of the scrolls that needed to be delivered now word was spreading of the rebuilding of Erebor. Something that sounded plausible to Edúr but which by the sound of his moody voice Oin had considered a feeble excuse to abandon his other duties. She had wisely kept quiet at this, not wanting to point out that Morkai had in fact behaved uncharacteristically even-tempered with him, only snapping his beak warningly once or twice too.
The moment Oin had left, however, they had willfully ignored his orders to go to bed and Niam and herself had first all but ravaged the food that had been set out for them. Her frustration might have fed her for a while, but after their wounds had been treated she had realized just how starving she had been. Too tired to talk they had instead sunk their teeth in succulent meat, chewed on crunchy bread and devoured a hearty stew, not caring to spill on their clothes nor mind that their fingers were soon covered in grease. Stomachs filled they had both succumbed to sleep almost instantly after retreating to their bedrooms.
There was a sudden stirring sound coming from above her accompanied by a very distinctively happy murmuring, almost like the purring of a cat. A smile appeared on her face and Edúr looked up to greet her Raven now he had also woken. Morkai had nestled himself on one of the corner posts of her bed, right where the canopy came together in a bundle of wine-colored chenille that wore the same zigzagging pattern as the bedcovers. At first languidly stretching both wings, his left seemed to respond fairly well though it still appeared a little uncooperative, Morkai soon fluttered down to her. She whispered softly to the Raven in his own language -something her grandmother had taught her so many moons ago it had often seemed like she had sat with her and her Ravens under that old withered oak in a different life- while the black bird hopped on her lap cocking his head to the side as he listened and cawed in reply now and then as she told him one of his favorite and ancient riddles.
Morkai had almost dozed off again -forgetful as he often was to remember the answers to the older puzzles or the tricks to crack them- when, upon casting an inquisitive glance around her room, Edúr realized there was a shutter and inevitably a window on the wall opposite the bed. It had been so dark at night and during the day she had spent her time in the main chamber with Niam -talking or staring absentmindedly at the fire blazing in the hearth- she had not noticed it until now as daylight was trying to peek through the crooked grooves and furrows running like rivers across the wood. Giving in to the impulse to see what view it hid from sight she nudged Morkai off her lap -which he answered with a disgruntled screech in protest- and tiptoed towards it. She shivered slightly as her bare feet left the woolen rug and touched the cold marble floor but it did not stop her from reaching out for the latch and giving the gnarled wood a mighty push. It flung open at her bidding and she found herself instantly silenced by the breathtaking view behind it. Stretching out below her was the valley between Erebor and Dale, the city still bearing the scars of first a Fire Drake's attack and then the slow, crippling decay of time itself. Edúr leaned forward, hands resting on the windowsill and let her eyes rove over the collection of red-roofed buildings clinging to the hill on which they were built. Turning her head to the right she could make out the ragged shape of Bâha-zunsh-hund*, its crown of crumbling pillars like the gaping mouth of a monster with jagged and broken teeth. It was hard to believe she was truly staring out at what had been only a legend told to her by her parents and kin. Lastly, and directly below, she could discern the back of the helmet one of the Dwarven statues wore. Even though still at a considerable distance she almost felt she had but to stretch her fingers to touch the carved and ancient stone.
She heard the flapping of wings when Morkai joined her, planting his claws in her shoulder for support and clapping his beak. Edúr froze as she unraveled the string of croaks he let out, her heart missing a beat when, narrowing her eyes, she too spotted the first thick snowflakes that started to tumble down like flower petals of the purest white. The sight of the ice crystals falling leisurely from the sky towards the ground in an increasing and steady pace involuntarily brought tears to her eyes. Winter had come... She had known that the chances of her and Niam making it back to her Clan's Keep to help her father -if he was even still alive-had been slim. Now, they were practically non-existent. Even if here it had only just begun to snow, it would mean that far North the land would be covered in a thick blanket of it already. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew it would be a one way trip if they were to venture in that direction. Morkai gently nibbled her earlobe in support, letting out a melancholy call afterwards. It had sounded too much like a lament to hold on to the last remaining hope as it inevitably threatened to leave her now.
There were sounds coming from the main chamber, making her stir again. She closed the shutter with a loud bang and turned on her heels so swiftly that Morkai took off and retreated to his nest-like hiding place on top of the bed. Mumbling a hasty apology towards him, Edúr cast a quick look around for her tunic, trousers and cloak that were still nowhere to be found. She vaguely remembered a timid servant having come to collect them when Oin had had them stripped to their underclothes for his examination to have them cleaned. Edúr bit her lip, she wanted to have them back, even more so now it seemed they were about the only tangible thing left of her Clan. Moreover, having worn them for days on end she felt almost naked without them and every fiber of her being still protested as strongly against wearing one of the dresses laid out for her as they had done at the beginning of the week. Giving up her frantic search she had almost dashed out of her room when her eyes stumbled upon the garment hung on a hook on the door. The indistinct and undefinable sounds coming from the main chamber made her hurry and she swung the velvet robe over her shoulders, slid her arms in the sleeves and tied the sash in a sloppy knot.
At first she wondered whether she had imagined the muffled sounds on the other side of the door when, upon opening it and stepping out into the chamber beyond, there was no one to be seen. Then she identified the rapping sound to be that of someone knocking on the door leading to the hallway. Her cousin was already in front of it and pulled the handle to reveal a familiar white-haired Dwarf. On the verge of knocking once more Balin all but stumbled inside when the back of his raised fist met nothing but air. Niam hastily lend him his support and, after giving him a grateful wink, both Dwarves walked over to her.
"I trust a good night's rest has made the both of you feel better?" Balin inquired good-humoredly, as he had done every morning for the week past, and went on without delay the moment he had received an affirmative nod from the both of them, "Good, good. Well, I am glad to see it. And even more relieved that now you are stronger again I think it is high time to inform you that the misunderstanding which had you.. Ahem.." He harrumphed in apparent embarrassment and bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before resuming with a steadier voice, "The, erm, most unfortunate misunderstanding which had you ending up as our prisoners has been cleared. Though far later than it should have been done, rest assured that your grandfather's honor has been fully restored. There is none now who would ever doubt it again."
He gave both of them a long, meaningful look in turn as if to make sure they understood everything he had said and implied, prompting Niam to place his hand on the old Dwarf's shoulder, saying earnestly, "And we are grateful for it."
Edúr nodded, heart not entirely in it even though she was starting to trust Balin, with his kindness and honesty it was hard not to. She attempted to swallow down the misgivings still gnawing at her but failed miserably and finally decided to voice them, "No one?" She hoped that her look of sincerity acquitted her of appearing to have wanted to blame the old Dwarf himself, after all it was not his integrity she was still doubting. Balin seemed to have no trouble in picking up on the real target of that question which she feared had sounded much like the accusation it was.
"Aye. No one." He told her solemnly. Edúr nodded again, this time she hoped it was more convincing than it had been before. Clearly assuming everything had been dealt with splendidly when she remained silent after this he hummed a satisfied hum and mimicked her nod by dipping his chin to his chest.
"Good, good." Balin mumbled again when his head snapped back up, hands patting his round belly before he hooked his fingers behind his belt, "And with that matter resolved you are now our honorable guests and thus free to move around Erebor, explore all its nooks and crannies to your heart's content."
Niam's face instantly lit up at this and he grinned in eager anticipation. Edúr felt a similar curiosity stir in her but she mercilessly pushed it aside as another worry welled up inside of her, "What about the threat to the King's life?"
"Ah.. Well.. Erm.." Balin started to rock on the balls of his feet once more, clearly not having expected for her to ask him, especially now he had thought to have taken the most thorny obstacle already.
"He does not believe us." Edúr interpreted the Dwarf's apparent indecisiveness, anger flaring up.
"His head does. Maybe his heart needs a little more time." Balin suggested in a brave attempt to adjust her statement by neither completely denying nor confirming it.
"What was the point in us coming here if he does not believe us?"
"Your coming was not in vain, nor was the fate your people suffered because of it. For I believe you. And there are others too. Give it some time, lass." He squeezed her arm in a fatherly way, giving her the impression that he had somehow gotten used to dealing with her impatience already.
"Time?! That is the one thing we do not have.." Despite the Dwarf's well-meant gesture of consolation she could not help but sound as exasperated as she felt. She threw Niam a pleading look, feeling relieved almost to see the same restlessness reflected in his eyes. It was not just impossible for her, it seemed, to shake the growing uneasiness as she thought of the snow falling outside and how each of those snowflakes reaching the ground decreased their chances of returning even more. The old Dwarf sighed, patting both their shoulders in genuine sympathy, causing the sliver of distrust that had remained to melt away under his warm and compassionate gaze.
"Always one step ahead of me, it would seem, Balin."
The three of them looked up as one when a Dwarrowdam stood framed by the doorway, her black dress clinging to her more like a shadow than a garment. It danced around her ankles when she stepped over the threshold and glided over to them accompanied by a clear ringing sound of earrings swaying. Her head was adorned with black pearls that gleamed like beads and not a single light grey hair was out of place as it had been put up in a complex twisting and turning of fine braids. Edúr knew instantly of whom the Dwarrodam's formidable presence reminded her, but unlike the King under the Mountain there was an openness to her that her unrestrained voice had suggested. Nevertheless, she was as beautiful as she was intimidating and she felt strangely ashamed of being dressed in but a robe which was not even her own.
The old Dwarf bowed a deep bow the moment the Dwarrowdam had neared them, murmuring in a respectful tone, "I doubt it, Lady Dís. More like five paces behind."
Probably aware of the fact she did not need to introduce herself more formally she inclined her head towards herself and Niam, remarking teasingly as she directed herself at Balin again, "You flatter me, as you are well aware, my friend." She laughed a honeysweet laugh, then her expression morphed into one far more serious and she allowed for a silence before saying in a sober tone, "You must be the Lady Edúr, Daughter of Edrík, and Niam, Son of Efrain. I am sorry I have not managed to visit you before now but do know you have my eternal gratitude for coming to us despite the perilous journey it must have been from the Keep of our Brethren in the far North. Normally I do not involve myself with court business but maybe in future I should make more of an effort, if only to make sure my dearest Brother does not send guests down to stay in the vaults instead of having them brought to the private chambers that they deserve."
"That matter has been resolved, Lady Dís." Niam was quick to assure her, intentionally echoing Balin's earlier words, even sending him one of his own kindhearted winks when he bowed in both reverence and unmistakable admiration. The old dwarf chuckled and Dís smiled appreciatively, "I am glad of it. Though resolved is still a long way removed from forgiveness, I think."
It took Edúr a moment to realize she had been referring to her unintentionally brooding silence that had only grown stronger each day she had been stuck in their chambers, convalescing or not. She stammered an awkward apology but could not finish it when Dís stopped her with an elegant wave of her hand, "No, I quite agree, forgiveness should not be readily given, it needs to be earned. That is why I invite you to the feast tonight." Foreshadowing her hesitation to accept, the Dwarrowdam added more firmly, "Please, I insist."
It struck her as odd that those two contradictory phrases -one an entreaty, the other a pressing request- had been crammed into one sentence, and yet like Balin there was such an amount of goodness in her eyes that it was hard to doubt her sincerity.
"It will only be a small, informal gathering but your presence would be most appreciated and welcome." Dís hastened to set their minds at ease now Edúr had turned towards her cousin and exchanged a look in silent consultation. Before she had so much as inclined her head as a sign of -tentative- approval, Niam lost no time and gracefully accepted on behalf of them both.
Offering his arm to Lady Dís and making to go, Balin's eyes twinkled before he spoke hopefully, "That tonight, tomorrow and every day hence, Erebor may be the home to you that it is to us."
Niam walked with them to the door and she could hear him warmly expressing his gratitude in his usual charming way. Rooted to the spot Edúr remained behind though the others seemed not to notice. Home... The word had sounded so strange having been uttered here in a Keep not their own. A hollow and lifeless word she could only imagine as a fish out of water that was gulping air and thrashed about helplessly on the cold marble at her feet.
~Thanks for Reading & Please Review! (^-^b)~
* "Mainni', Nadad." = "Be strengthened, brother."
Bâha-zunsh-hund = Ravenhill
A/N: I couldn't resist any longer to put in some Khuzdul, even though I'll undoubtedly make a lot of mistakes with it, it's too much fun not to try so bear with me as I may give in to the temptation again in the upcoming chapters ;) Also, please forgive me if my translations don't make any sense, I'm obviously not an expert on Dwarven language, that would be the amazing Dwarrow scholar; a huge thank you for that fantastic Khuzdul dictionary, it's such a great source of inspiration!
