The plate of Thorin's breakfast sat untouched on the far corner of his desk. He had enjoyed only marginally better success ignoring the meal than he had the Dwarf who sat across from him. Arms crossed and a scowl upon his face, Balin was a force to be reckoned with, even in his silence. Thorin could feel the steady glare pounding down upon him and found himself concentrating more on not acknowledging his most trusted advisor, then actually getting any work done.

"Speak," he ordered without looking up, letting irritation bleed into his tone. He shuffled a few of the papers in front of him out of principal; he may not have actually been reading the words on the page, but that did not mean that he would admit to being distracted.

Balin heaved a heavy sigh but held his tongue. A tired hand rubbed at the bridge of Thorin's nose and he knew that any reprieve he sought would not be found until the other man had been satisfied. Though he may have earned his crown and become king, some things would never change.

Thorin gave up all pretense and sat back in his chair as he sent a glare of his own to the white haired Dwarf.

"Quite the beautiful day we're having, is it not?" Balin had not loosened his posture one bit, despite his casual tone.

The younger Dwarf huffed a laugh in disbelief and forced himself to play along. "Is it?" Balin had never been one to waste his time without good reason.

"Aye, very much so," the crossed arms loosened and the older man leaned forward to rest one arm on the desk. "You should go and see it for yourself. Sunlight and fresh air would do you a bit of good."

A grin of satisfaction appeared on the king's face, "I see," and vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "And who would attend to the matters at hand while I am out frolicking in the fields?"

Balin refused to be baited and that only annoyed the younger man more. "It will all still be here awaiting your most illustrious return. Of that, you have my word."

Before a retort could be given the door to Thorin's office was opened and the other half of his oldest comrades stepped through. The brothers nodded a greeting and then Dwalin pinned his stare on the king. "You need ta come with me."

The hulk of a Dwarf did not wait for an answer before turning back to the door and moving into the hallway. Had he been more rested, Thorin might have taken offense to being ordered about in his own kingdom; but with tension running high all around, and the threat of a coup always on his mind, the king rose without a word and followed after his friend.

He barely noticed Balin trailing after them as they marched through the long halls and open passages of the mountain; up and around until they were nearing the armory. Dwalin's pace was steady and strong, but not rushed, and the king found himself wondering. If there were to be an attack, the warrior would not have been so relaxed, or as relaxed as that particular Dwarf had ever been, but why else would they be heading for weaponry?

When they passed through the doorway and into the room proper, Dwalin made straight for a rack of pole arms and selected two quarterstaffs. He tossed one to Thorin, who caught it with ease, before continuing through to the practice arena. The area was not as large as the full arena would be, once they dug through the rubble to find it again, but it was plenty big enough for two Dwarves to let off steam.

Dwalin cracked his neck as he turned to face Thorin, and gestured towards the other man with the end of his staff. "You may want to shed some layers," he warned in a taunting voice, "and leave that shiny crown at the door. I'd hate to put a dent in it."

The feel of the wood in Thorin's hands was rejuvenating after having only wielded a quill and ink for the past week. He had always been a man of action, and the bureaucracy that he had been drowning in of late was one of the many sources of stress upon his wounds mostly healed, the thought of a fight had him feeling more himself since they had first taken the mountain.

He hefted the pole in his hand and all thoughts of returning to his work vanished with a feral grin. "You'd have to land a blow, for that to be a possibility."

Dwalin barked a laugh as Thorin shed his robe and crown, laying them on the bench next to where Balin had parked himself. The old man looked far too smug for the king's liking, and when he sent the younger Dwarf a wink, Thorin realized that he had been had. It would seem that bashing each other about with large sticks would suffice in place of sunlight and fresh air. Whatever the reason, he was glad of the reprieve.

The two fighters took up positions facing one another, hands on staffs, and slowly circling the other. Dwalin struck first, swinging down from above in a feint before striking upwards from below with the rear of the staff. Falling for the bluff, Thorin almost missed defending the lower strike and had to move fast to block it. Frustrated at himself for not seeing the ruse for what it was, he knocked Dwalin's staff away and lunged the tip of his own forward, towards the other Dwarf's head. The warrior blocked and used the momentum to knock Thorin's weapon off track and away.

"I saw the Elf this morning." Sometimes Dwalin was too much like his brother, and Thorin groaned internally at the casual tone. "Interesting choice in accessories she has now."

Dwalin moved forward with a downward swing but Thorin stepped wide and the attack missed. Taking advantage of the opening, the king swung at the warriors back. Dwalin swept his weapon from front to back, low, and brought both poles over his head in an arc. He turned and aimed a wide swing towards Thorin's head, but the king ducked and let the staff sail over him before knocking Dwalin in the gut with the flat of his own.

"That boy will be the death of me," Thorin growled, but could not muster the disdain that such a comment would warrant. The thrill of moving again, of taking action, was singing through his veins.

They circled again, each looking for an opening in the other's stance.

Balin spoke up from his seat. "He misses his brother and is desperate to hold onto whomever he can. You could have sent them both to Dale; all three even. It would have gotten him well away from Dáin and that would only have been a blessing."

Thorin attacked, left, then right, in quick succession, barely acknowledging when Dwalin met each strike with a crack of his staff. "They are no longer children. They need to learn to separate." He could see the next attack coming high and swept his pole to block, then down and around, striking low left, then right, and again. He thought of his own brother, Frerin, and how the pain of that loss had not dulled over all of the years. Fíli and Kíli were so much closer than he and his brother had been and he feared that to lose one of them would be to lose them both. Watching his nephews over the past week had made that all too abundantly clear.

Balin spoke over the grunts of attacks and thwacks of the staffs. "Not you, nor I, nor any of us could replace the father that they lost so long ago. And in all of that time they have only had each other as a constant in their lives."

Dwalin moved to block each oncoming strike, losing ground with each swing. "Those two are not the only one's ta have lost a father." His tone was harsh as he pushed forward with a low attack.

"Aye, but some were younger than others." Balin sent his brother a reproving look, though he knew the other would not see it. "Kíli was not even old enough to hold a memory of him when their father passed."

Thorin swept his staff up to block and knocked away Dwalin's weapon, using the opening to swing at the other's head. "That still does not change the fact that they are grown now, and must learn to lead their own lives." His staff had gone over the warrior's head and he had to jump back to avoid taking a blow to his middle. Thorin used his leverage to knock his opponent's staff further away before lunging with a thrust to Dwalin's chest. The warrior parried easily before they broke apart to circle once again.

"And is that not what your young nephew is doing now?" Balin's tone was more than reasonable, which made the words all the more aggravating. "Trying to lead his own life?"

"Is that what he is doing? And here I thought that he was trying to send me to an early grave." Thorin took his eyes away from his opponent just long enough to glare at his advisor. "At least his brother has enough good sense to rule when I am gone."

"Which might be sooner than you think." Dwalin used the moment of distraction to press his attack. "If you don't pay attention." Using both ends of the staff, left, then right, and again, he forced Thorin to retreat.

The king blocked every blow and stepped into the last strike, swinging down and forcing both staff tips to the ground. The move brought the fighters shoulder to shoulder, and without hesitation, Thorin swept his staff back up, straight into Dwalin's face and sent the other Dwarf staggering.

The space was quiet for a breath before the sound of laughter filled the silence; the carefree sound of shield-brothers bonding on adrenaline. Thorin leaned on his staff, a smile on his face for the first time in too long.

"I hear that Dáin has calmed down a bit, as well." At Balin's words, Thorin was reminded again of the responsibility that awaited him outside of the sanctuary of the arena. "Though I think it wise for you to continue to avoid him for the time being."

The short lived smile on Thorin's face retreated once more, and he could feel the mantle of his title weighing down upon him. "It is my own fault for allowing him to rest in these halls to begin with."

Dwalin took a seat where he had been standing, his arms resting on bent knees. "What did he do, exactly, that has put you so on edge?"

"He does not need to do anything. I hear the whispers. I see the looks." Thorin's broad shoulders curled inward with guilt as his eyes lost focus. "I should have sent him away as soon as the battle was won. That treasure is a curse upon us all and those of Durin's blood feel it's pull the strongest." He turned his eyes to search the brothers before him. "Do you not hear it calling to you?" At their blank stares, he shook his head. "If not for the promise made in Lake-town, I would not have sent an ounce to Dale. I fear it will do them more harm than good."

Balin sent his brother a side look that did not go unnoticed by the king and his guilt lit to anger like oil in a lamp. "I am not my grandfather, do not look to me as if I am. I have felt the Dragon Sickness. I have fought it, and I have won! But do not think that I am the only Dwarf in Erebor to be susceptible to it's lure."

Dwalin would not meet Thorin's eye and Balin heaved a great breath before answering. "No one knows when the caravans from the Blue Mountains will arrive. But if greater numbers would ease your mind, why not invite the Men of Dale? Bring the would-be craftsmen here, to teach them the ways of forge and stone. From what I saw of Lake-town, they could use all the help that they can get. And it would even our numbers that much further."

Thorin nodded as he thought on the suggestion. In a fight, one Dwarf was easily worth at least ten Men, but it was truly the only option left to them. "See that it is done."

Balin nodded and Dwalin still would not meet his gaze.

Thorin hoped that his forefathers could forgive him; first an Elf, and now Men living in Erebor. Knowing that the later would only be temporary, did not lessen the shame that twisted inside of him. It had been his grandfather who's greed had lost them the mountain, and his own that had nearly kept them from retaining it after it's reclamation.

The king gathered his things and left the brothers in the arena, lost in his thoughts. The gold in the mountain was tainted, of that he had no doubt, and he had not set foot in the treasury since before the battle because of it. What he had yet to find was a cure; how did one go about lifting a curse?


The days flowed one into the other for Fíli, each following much the same pattern. Until one evening while waiting for Sigrid, he realized that a fortnight had passed. Rumors had spread throughout Dale of the Mountain King's invitation to Men and Fíli had been surprised at first, more so even at Bard's reluctance to accept. But, the Dwarves had not been sent to the city for politics, and Fíli had spent little time thinking on anything other than the repairs in front of him.

The outer wall of Dale was soon to be finished and the Dwarves would start their work on the city itself within days. Each afternoon brought a visit from the King's daughters, and on the rare occasion when he could break away from training at the garrison, Bain would come as well. Fíli enjoyed each visit from Bard's children, but looked forward to the nights the most; when he and Sigrid were alone and the pressures of their stations were left at the door. During their time together he did not have to be a visiting envoy, or an example to the other Dwarves, or even the heir to the throne of Erebor; he was simply a friend who was good with a sword, quick to laugh, and who missed his brother terribly.

He was just putting the finishing touches on the carving that he had started that first night, when Sigrid joined him for the evening. He tucked the bit of wood away and stood with a happy greeting.

She was quick to shed her cloak and join him, her excitement for their session barely restrained.

"Tonight," she questioned without preamble and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. Tonight she would begin her formal training and move beyond the basic muscle building skills. At his nod her smile bloomed in full and he found himself basking in it as if she were the lone lantern in a deep cave.

She was near to bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation and moved to collect his swords from where they lay. During the time that they had shared together over the past two weeks they had spent as much time trading words as they had practicing with swords. This was not the Lady of Dale that stood before him, but Sigrid, his dear friend. In this space, with just the two of them, she was more open and free with her speech and manner than when they were together during the day, and he had come to appreciate their sessions more and more. It reminded him of being young in Ered Luin and brought to him a sense of comfort that he had not realized he had been missing.

Sigrid passed him one of the swords with a smile and he slipped easily into the role of the trainer.

Holding his sword in the starting position, he took a step back to increase the distance between them. "For now, make sure that your spare hand is out of the way." He laid his own against his chest and she mimicked the movement. "Rotate the wrist, down, around, and back again." He moved his sword forward and away, as he had shown her that first night, but instead of drawing back, he allowed the blade to follow through; down towards the ground, then around and past him, back up behind with a twist of the wrist and forward past his face. "This is called Zê'mim Imgam. It means 'first little circle'."

She had been following along with his movements, but could not seem to get her wrist to turn correctly on the way back up. When she repeated the same mistake again he stopped her. "Hold on," he cast his eyes about the area, searching for something to stand on, "give me a moment." With their differences in height it would be difficult to help her without a slight boost. Luckily, he had moved a few items into the large space when it had become clear that their meetings would be a regular occurrence, and the crate that he had used was just about the right size.

She watched him as he collected his makeshift stool, but did not question him as he settled it behind her and stepped atop it. Instead she laughed at him and he smiled, not sure if she could not contain her amusement, or if she simply did not feel the need. Either way, he enjoyed the sound and took no offense.

"And just what is so funny, little girl," he teased. From this vantage, he was just a hair taller than her and she smiled up at him in a way that he could grow quite used to.

"Who are you calling little," she taunted with a cheeky grin.

He arched an eyebrow and motioned for her to face away once again. She sent him a look through her lashes as she turned around, the smile far from gone on her face. Once again in the starting position, she moved her free arm to lay across her chest. He reached for the hand that held the sword and she had to bend her elbow just slightly in order for him to reach it. He had never felt self-conscious about his size before, not once in his life, but in this moment he would have appreciated the longer limbs. He wrapped his hand around her own, his grip over hers on the hilt. He took a deep breath before wrapping his other arm around her, following the curve of her own arm across her chest and pulling her against him more firmly.

"Close your eyes," He whispered into her ear and she stiffened in his embrace for just a moment before taking a deep breath of her own. As she released it, her body relaxed and he felt a rush of pride at her trust in him. He tightened his grip over hers on the hilt and moved the sword through the twists and turns of the exercise. Over and over they repeated the motion until it was flawless.

"Can you feel it?" His voice had deepened without his meaning to. "The flow of it?" He slowed their movement to a stop, letting their arms hang by their sides. He threaded the fingers of his free hand through her own and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Yes. I can feel it." Her answer was breathless and he could not stop the smirk that spread across his face. She cleared her throat before continuing in a soft voice. "I think that I've got it now."

The words were past his lips before he could think better of them and he whispered into her neck, "And I've got you."

"Oh?" Her tone was more surprised than teasing and he lifted his head away, not sure if he should be confused or insulted. "Are you flirting with me, Master Dwarf?"

He had not meant to, but had been fighting the urge since nearly their first day training. He huffed a laugh; half disbelief, half wounded pride. "If you have to ask, then I must be more out of practice than I had thought." Now that he had crossed the line, he would not deny that it had happened.

She twittered a laugh of her own and leaned her head back onto his shoulder to meet his eyes. "Not at all." Her cheeks pinked in the way that he enjoyed so much. "Only; I did not think that Dwarves cared for the fairer sex."

He laughed outright at the ridiculous thought. "Whatever would have given you that idea?" At his outburst, her blush spread to cover her entire face and he had the sudden urge to lay his cheek upon her own to feel the heat of it. "I confess, I have turned many a pretty maid's head in my time, Dwarven and not."

"Dwarven maids?" She pulled away from him and he let her go, though it was the opposite of what he wanted. "I did not think such a thing existed." She settled the blade on the ground before turning to face him fully and with only a slight hesitation, rested her hands on his chest. He covered her hands with his own, threading his fingers through hers once more. "Are you not mined from the earth fully formed as the legends say?"

He chuckled, a deep and heartfelt sound."Goodness no." Here he dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned in towards her. "I'll let you in on a secret of my people." She leaned forwards as well, a mischievous smile on her face, and leaving hardly any space between them. "Dwarven women are our greatest treasure, guarded more fiercely than all the gold and mithril to be found. That is why they are so rarely seen." He closed the distance to brush her nose with his own before pulling away again. "That, and not many outside of Dwarves can distinguish them from men when they do go out."

She breathed a laugh and there was a light to her eyes that had not been in them before. "So, if I were to do this," and she brushed her lips against his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, "then you would know what it means?" Her smile was coy now, and he had to remind himself that she was still young, and had likely never had a suitor before.

"I would think that you need more practice with your aim, My lady." His smirk took on an impish tilt. "I believe that you have missed your target."

He watched as her blush spread further down, past the collar of her shirt, and before he could think to steal a kiss for himself, Sigrid had sealed her lips over his. She was too forceful and their teeth clacked together at first, but Fíli was nothing if not a patient teacher. He shifted his head to a better angle and took control of the kiss, softening the motions. He pulled her hands up to settle on his shoulders before moving his own to her waist and pulling her closer. She shuffled forwards until her feet hit the crate that he was standing on. The noise was soft, but the motion was jarring, and she pulled away and took several steps back; her breath coming in little puffs. He stepped down to the ground but did not approach her, unsure of where this change now left them.

She closed her eyes and drew in a shaking breath before meeting his gaze again. "I've been wanting to do that for ages now."

He did not hold back the smile that her words evoked and was pleased to see a matching one cross her face. "Me too." His expression dimmed before before either of them could move and he cursed himself and his sense of duty. "But I need you to understand our situation." The words hurt him to say, but he forced them out, "I do care about you, Sigrid. But I am Heir to the Mountain and you are the Lady of Dale," for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing the responsibility was someone else's to bear, "and no matter what we may want for ourselves, I can make you no promises."

He waited for her answer with held breath and told himself that it was good for her to think long on the matter. Finally she nodded. It was with overwhelming relief that he took her hand when she offered it to him.


All that I know about sword training I have learned from 2 Youtube videos, the links of which are posted on my Livejournal.

I have an image of Tauriel with her hair braided and beaded that I'll be posting to LJ and Tumblr, and the necklace is actually something made for the movies, even though they never show it. You can find it by googling 'Tauriel's necklace'.