Chapter 10: The long way home

The shape of the huge bear emerged from the morning mists by the riverside, Kili smiled when he saw that familiar shape. When he had sent the Raven south he had hoped that someone from the next Beorning village would respond, but he had hardly expected Beorn himself to come all the way upriver. It had to be him, there was no second bear as huge as that one or with such a scar on his snout, relic of the Battle of Erebor. One daring Orc had managed to hit the bear's face with an axe but only succeeded in enraging the mighty skinchanger even further. Kili was sitting still on a rock outside camp, having worked on his focus while waiting.

The bear vanished and in its stead stood Beorn, the broad-shouldered man grinned down at the dwarf. "You really cannot cross the Mountains without making a visit with the Goblins, can you?" he asked humor in his deep booming voice.

Kili stood, even on the rock he had under his feet he had to look up to Beorn. "They had to inconvenience us and you know how it is… most hated blood enemy and all that, what would my ancestors think if I did not keep the feud hot and angry?"

"If you keep decimating them, I shall be all for it," Beorn took the jab at feuds with good humor, they both knew how it was meant. "Your message said you freed a number of Men and that some will need our aid to return home?" He referred to what the crow had told him, he had not needed Kili's written missive, the bird had been able to tell him a lot more than what the dwarf had penned down. "Only some? What about the rest?"

"Some want to return to their homeland, and I would ask your people to aid them. The others are coming with us to Erebor." Kili said, he had spent the last day speaking with the survivors, patiently answering questions, encouraging those who had nowhere to turn to and finally finding that a good number of them would take their chances with the dwarves. The other dwarves would either return to their homes in the Misty Mountains or also join them on the way to Erebor.

The Bear-man crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes piercing as he met Kili's gaze. "My people will have those who are in need of it. But what about the others? I know that some of them may feel they have nothing to go back to – but shouldn't they at least try?" he asked a low growl barely constrained in his throat. It was odd that dwarves should be willing to aid Men so willingly. "Why are you even willing to take them with you?"

Kili crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Because I have seen this before, Beorn," he told the shapeshifter. "some years ago Thorin, Fili and I rescued a number of people out of the hands of Dunlendings in Northern Dunland. Don't ask why… it was Thorin's idea. Among them was a woman from Drúwaith laur, near the borders of Gondor, she and her little daughter were the only ones from so far south. And we decided to escort her home, she could not cross the wilds alone." He rubbed his hands against his arms, like he was cold. "She had been a farmer's wife, prosperous farm not so far from the River Angren… she had been gone for two years, her husband had remarried already, she was accounted for as dead and all – her husband, her family, even her own mother was embarrassed that she did return at all. That she came with three wandering dwarves made things only worse…" He turned away, looking towards the River. "It did not end well."

The heavy man heaved a sigh, well able to read between the lines of the dwarf's story; he was also able to see the two sides of the tale. To Men two years were a long time, and that farmer, bereft of his wife with no hope for her returning, had probably had other children in need of a mother and could not waste ten years to wait for a miracle that would not happen either way. He acted in accordance of what was prudent and necessary, harsh as that might be. Men had to go on with their lives, short as they were. But Beorn also knew it was something that dwarves could not understand, for to them it was unthinkable to abandon a partner once bonded, a dwarven husband would cross the world, fight any foe and risk any danger to find his wife. Songs of dwarven husbands – or wives – who had journeyed into the deeps to avenge their bondmate or children, were not inventions, they were only accounts of the most famous cases. The dwarfen heart was stubborn, hard won and harder lost, prideful and loyal… they were as willful and unmoving as the stone they had been carved from. In the rare rare cases that a dwarven couple discovered they were not made for each other after all, they would separate, living on the different ends of Middle Earth, never seeing each other again and still they would remain faithful to their erstwhile partner. "Are there so many cases where you fear it might end like that?" he asked, trying to assess the situation a little more.

Kili hopped off the rock and walked with him, until they could see the river. Down by the waterside the shapeshifter saw a dwarf help several women to bundle up a few things on a pony. Children, thin children, many clad in clothes that had to be borrowed from dwarves, were close by. Two scrambled uphill towards Kili. "Mother is saying we go on a great journey…" the blond boy sputtered excitedly. "she says we are going to a place where… where the dark people will never find us."

There was a wealth of hurt in the eyes of these children. Kili smiled at them, gently hugging both. "You will, Erebor is a great fortress city, you will be safe there. Now… go and help your mother, I will be down with you shortly." The two darted off, back down to the women, their mother having already called for them, as to not disturb Kili.

The dwarf looked up to Beorn. "There were a number of women and children in that den, Beorn, many of them having been there for a year or more. Their mother… she is afraid to go back home, I think she knows what she'll find. If her husband was worth the name he'd have gone after her and freed her long before they could reach the mountains."

"You think badly of Men, Kili," Beorn said sternly. "'tis not surprising with what you saw in Eriador… a few of these women must be from Eriador as well."

Kili shook his head. "I do not think badly of men, or the world of men in general, Beorn." He said sharply, anger rising in him. "my best friend was of their kin and I know that there is much of courage and bravery in the world of Men but… I am not blind either. And I will not send another woman home only to find her dead by the Riverside not long after."

Beorn looked at the young dwarf thoughtfully, he well remembered the human warrior who had been with them on their travels. He still felt that it would be fair on the families of these people if they gave them a chance and returned home, yet… he also understood that they had chosen otherwise. It was a rational choice, one that the shapechanger guessed Kili did not fully understand either. A number of these women might truly fear that by the time they returned home their place would be gone, their families having moved on, others might prefer not to return for other reasons. And they probably had taken a good look at the dwarven caravan and weighed their own prospects. Dwarves may have a mixed reputation at best, but they were known as capable survivors and a people that would always get back to their feet. And these dwarves were on their way back to their re-taken kingdom, chances were that there would be work and prosperity along that way. Beorn sighed, Men were nothing but pragmatic and many of the lasses down there would have taken the pragmatic view on the matter. "Alright, it is not my place to make their choices," he agreed, giving some ground. "but I will talk to them nevertheless, ask them if they want any messages delivered."

Kili inclined his head. "Thank you, Beorn. I feel better leaving those we cannot take with us in your hands; I know you will make sure they get home safely."

TRB

Night had fallen and the camp was still restless, by morning the carts would be rolling again, the days of rest were over. Kili stood by the fire with Fion. "You are headed west again, I take it?" he asked after a while of silence.

"Aye," Fion replied. "back across the Mountains, but we will take the High Pass this time. It is your fault, you know – you were the one to tell Rú of Goblin Town."

Kili laughed, amused. "I had no idea he would take an interest into paying them a visit." He regretted that these two were leaving, he would have liked for them to come with them back to Erebor… but Russandol was searching for his brother and if Kili could understood something it was searching for one's own brother. "Just keep him from re-visiting Moria, will you?" he joked lightly.

"I will… and you… be careful and protect Aunt Dís." The cousins looked at each other, then hugged, in silent promise.

TRB

With the first light of a fine summer's day the caravan of the dwarves moved again, beginning their journey northeast. They kept safely away from the outskirts of the great woodlands they could see to their right as they journeyed on. When they finally turned fully east, the fruitful valley of Anduin lay behind them and before them stretched the wide heathers that lay between the rim of Mirkwood and the foothills of the Grey Mountains. An austere landscape of yellow grass, green and brown spots with the shining purple of the heather in bloom, all strewn between the stark grey bones of the Ered Mithrin, here and there blinked the eyes of small pools and ponds, and the mountain pines and the dancing birches of the North forming small spots of woodland in between the open landscape.

Kili guided his horse parallel to the moving groups of carts and ponies, with the Misty Mountains behind them the constant danger of Orc attacks had passed but the Ered Mithrin was neither empty nor safe and he and his fighters still spent a lot of time defending the long trek. But at least it was not as frequent as it had been before.

"You are in a good mood today," Bilbo observed, the Hobbit rode beside Kili, the journey out in the open had begun to give him quite the tan. "You even smile at this place… you do not happen to having been here before?"

"No, we never went so far north, no paying work in these parts." Kili replied, his eyes still on the landscape ahead of them. "But Bilbo… I do not know why, but for the first time since we began this journey, the land sings to me again. This place… it feels like home, it feels right." He leaned his head back and let the warm summer wind brush against his wild mane.

"Your ancestors used to live in the Grey Mountains," Bilbo pointed out. "maybe… maybe you begin to feel connected to the land, to your homeland." Over his time with the dwarves Bilbo had begun to learn how strong their link to their mountains was. Maybe Kili would have to learn such a connection at first, having lived a wandering life. "I mean… it's a beautiful land, if a bit austere. Sandy grounds, not good for farming, too many bogs too but bees should thrive here."

Kili laughed warmly, coming out of his dreaming. "If my people are of the stone, yours must be of the Earth, Bilbo." He said. "But… you have taken a liking to this land too, haven't you?"

"It is all your fault that I am as un-hobbitish as to love wild lonely lands more than orderly gardens," Bilbo teased him.

They stopped their horses when they reached the point where their path was winding through a boggy spot of land. The carts had to move slowly and riders needed to lead their horses. Kili dismounted, walking along with the column.

"… of old there would be a road that led down from the Twin's Heights towards Erebor, but it was destroyed in the First war of the Grey Mountains." Kili looked to the side to see old Narvi walking with Fjalari, one arm on his granddaughter's shoulder, as she guided his step. Had Kili not known that the old bladesmith's eyes had been taken by the dragon's fire so long ago, he would not have guessed it. It was a foolish thought, Narvi had survived the fall of Erebor, his injury and the long exile, he was more capable than some who had their two eyes healthy.

The whitehaired dwarf turned his head, eerily like he could see Kili. "If we can hold this course for the next five weeks we should be at Erebor before autumn sets fully in." he observed.

"How… you heard me?" Kili had been convinced that his step could not be distinguished amongst the noise of the carts and horses.

Narvi laughed uproariously. "No, laddie, it is the flame, I can feel your presence as clearly as if you were a bonfire on a cold evening. And you are beginning to focus already – that's something that took others longer."

Kili smiled, Narvi had taught Thorin the craft, the old dwarf was one great masters and a great friend too. "I had someone to teach me, at least a little," he explained.

"Aye, I know of whom you speak," Narvi replied, "the Lord of the Dragon Forge."

"The one you told me stories about?" Fjalari frowned, she was about Fili's age, the only grandchild left of the ancient blacksmith clan. "but you always said they were legends…"

"There is a lesson for you, young one." Narvi told her a warm laugh in his voice. "In this ancient good world you will never be sure what legends still may walk the land, what old stories may spring to life from the grass and what ancient magic will find us if we only journey far enough. The day that changes, the day the legends die and the stories fade… the day this world becomes plain and without magic it will be time to go back into the stone and sleep until Mahal will need us to reforge Arda."

They all three fell silent for a while, just walking on the murky path between the bogs. "I think we'd better begin with reforging Erebor," Fjalari observed pragmatically. "if half what was whispered about that dragon is true, cleaning up the city will not be funny at all, and the mines… they will take some work, not to mention of the old forges. Kili… do you know how much damage the dragon did to the old ventilations?"

Kili fell into step beside them, relaxing. Narvi was an old friend and Fjalari had been an apprentice they had teased when she had still worn her dark hair in her mother's style, with seven braids. Kili had often tied them together somewhere, and as often got a hammer thrown at him in retaliation. "From what I saw before I left, the damage to the air shafts was nominal, but some may be clogged up with rubble. You can count yourself lucky, Fjalari, those who remained behind will have been sweeping up coins from corridors for weeks."

"And you left your poor brother to the unpleasant task!" Fjalari shook her head. "I hope we get there soon so that we can begin our work."

Weeks past and the heather fell behind them, until they reached what had been known as the Desolation of Smaug and finally came to the lands around the Mountain. Kili could keenly see the first changes, the valleys where Men had begun to break open the grounds and sown crops. Sheep were again grazing on the heather as well, free of fear from the winged terror that had ruled this land for so long. And behind the green landscape rose the mighty Mountain with the snowcapped peak glistening in the sun: Erebor.

Dis leaned on her axe as they climbed the last ridge. Ahead of them swung the wide valley of Dale and behind it she saw the familiar stone statues beside the main gate. A lifetime ago she had fled from that very gate, scrambling uphill with the many others who had made it out, not daring to look back. For long years she had dreamt of the Mountain home, and now that she stood here, tears stung her eyes when the familiar shape of the icy peak greeted her. "We're home… we are finally home."

TRB

By the time she finally could get some rest Dis was exhausted, but she was happy. Most of their people were camped across the ancient city, having finally arrived in their homeland. This evening they would simply rest, luxuriate in the chance to sleep behind secure fortress walls, and tomorrow the rebuilding would begin. It was Fili who had found her and after a fierce hug, led her towards their quarters. Dis had held her son for a moment and then looked at him thoughtfully. Like with Kili she had send a youth into the world and a warrior had returned. He led her towards the old palace quarters but then took a sharp turn avoiding the main royal quarters leading her to a large room. Some only semi-damaged furniture made the stark room habitable, a few chairs, some table that did not fit them and a huge fireplace where the comforts it held.

But still, Dis could see touches of her brother and son everywhere. The table was stacked with maps, plans and other things pertaining the mountain and the shelf was room for weapons and other things impractical. She smiled, suddenly feeling home, this place could have well been in Cardemir.

Thorin welcomed her with a strong hug. "Welcome home, Dis." He said warmly. "It has been a long time… but we are home."

Dis smiled up at him. "I see a lot of cleaning and organizing ahead of me." She winked at him. "I guess the dragon made a mess of the rest of the royal palace?"

"Largely," Thorin replied. "he rifled the place for treasures… I did not check further. We had other worries."

Soon they sat by the fire and Dis heard how the summer had progressed on Erebor, farming had begun outside and some trading had begun to bring in enough supplies for winter, for the whole populace. She was surprised to hear of Bard and his people and of Thorin's decision to allow them inside Erebor. Dis had heard much in the words of her brother as he explained and seen more than she let on. Thorin had changed, deeply changed, more than she had imagined he could. "As of now the people of Dale populate most of the Eastern side of the mountain, near the trade gate," Thorin said, showing her a map. "but we will expand to the North to give them quarters of their own."

As the evening progressed Dis noticed that Thorin often had made his plans together with Fili, often wanting his opinions on matter they discussed. It was unlike Thorin to actively seek advice, and to hear out his nephews… sons… that was truly change. She looked for Kili, who should take a more active role in the discussions, to notice him gone. "Where is Kili?" She asked. "He should be here."

"He was called out," Fili said. "Dwalin had some news on troubles and Elrohir and his riders have their hands full protecting the settlements. Kili grabbed Bilbo and some others to help out."

"I should have guessed," Dis replied dryly, returning to the plans. She had not even noticed Kili leaving, because she had been so focused on what they had told her. "So… let us continue."

TRB

"I beg your pardon, my Lady, but this place is a mess." Brea stood with the sleeves of her tunic pushed to her elbows, having just dropped a whole pile of broken junk on a large heap at the end of the hall. The cleaning of the city was in full swing. "if someone had told me that I would one day pick up some coin from dragon dung…"

Dis couldn't help it but laugh. It was too crazy, she had to admit. "I dare hardly say it, but the palace looks worse, Brea, and no one has cared to clean up there as of yet. Except for the areas my brother designated for storage."

"Sweet mother of the stone!" Brea shook her head. "Men! Leave Male dwarves to clean house and they will do so by reconstructing the place. I will see that we free up some work crews to take care of that, my Lady. Could you be so wonderful to pry Bilbo from Kili's side for a while? The great library was spared the fire, but is in chaos otherwise. We have dwarves who can scrub floors and mend broken mechanics, we have many dwarves who can rebuild homes and so forth… but point them to something like a book… and they will run in search for the next battle to fight. Reading must be a secret torture."

"I shall talk to Kili, he seems fairly tied up in the issues with defense." She replied, there were raiders and thieves in abundance it seemed, and even with the warriors they had brought they could only just so man the fortress and send out some patrols. Dis' heart still clenched when she saw the warriors of the reach that were amongst the fighters of Erebor, but the happy thought that the Reach had survived the dragon was far stronger than the sadness for past losses.

Her eyes went over the sprawling city of Erebor, give them another year and this would again be a place of light, of hope, they had rebuild far worse places than that. And standing here, in the midst of her people Dis knew she had truly come home. It had been journey across the world, through storm and fire, pain and suffering, through tears and laughter, hope and despair… but they had come home. Mahal, they had come home.

Erebor 3 Years later

Thorin stood beside one of the mighty pillars above the hall behind the Icewind Gate of Erebor, neither guards nor other people paid much attention; his people were used to his unannounced presence in the various parts of the sprawling Kingdom under the Mountain. This part of the fortress city along with the Northern Gate had only been finished earlier this year as they had expanded into the North flank to create a home for the people of Dale. Still the richest of the dwarven Kingdoms, Thorin knew that their true wealth lay in an unexpected blessing bestowed upon them. In the year after their return an unusually high number of children had been born to his people, the little dwarflings that would grow up in the safety of Erebor's mighty walls were the much greater treasure than even the Mithrál mines that prospered under Bofur's wise guidance.

The last three years had been busy ones, but good ones too, each day Thorin could see the Kingdom under the Mountain and the land outside the Mountain blossom more and more. The years had not been without their problems either – the rumor of the vast wealth of Erebor had spread quickly and many had sought the claim what lay unguarded. The mighty wings of Icewind gate began to swing open as the order was barked from above. Thorin looked down towards the gauntlet, seeing a rider on the pale horse pass the gate once it was open wide enough. He knew that horse well.

The white horse seemed too tall for a dwarf, but Kili preferred a fast and strong mount to a slower and reliable one. And Mahal's hammer, he needed it! In the very night of the Exile's Return Home Kíli had ridden out to assist a village that was being attacked by Wilderland Raiders, and it had only been the first of many such moments. With the dwarves from the Ered Luin the mountain had found miners, craftspeople and merchants, but warriors were still in short supply and the people of the Reach too had suffered grievous losses during the Battle of the Five Armies, as had the men of Dale. Erebor had enough troops the man the fortress and patrol the roads, but it was for one or two skirmishes to erupt that a third call for aid may go unanswered for hours.

Within a few months Kili had grown into his new task, still not quite comfortable with his role as Crown Prince of Erebor he had grown into a true protector of the people. The first time Thorin had no troops to send after a band of roving brigands, Kili had gone only with the few that had ridden with him during the long march, taking out the robbers, bringing the stolen goods back to village they belonged to. He had continued on doing that, and with the army slowly growing Dwalin sent him more and more against the more uncommon problems, like the creatures from Southern Mirkwood or from the Northern lands and legend of the dwarven prince had already grown like weeds under the summer rains, as Bilbo had put it after they came back from chasing two stonewyrms that had been terrorizing their eastern borders.

Thorin watched Kili bring the horse about in the hall, the animal was restless and it took Dwalin's firm hand in the reins to make it stand still entirely. The bald warmaster was always there when Kili came back from another fight, a firm friendship had grown between them ever since the quest and Thorin was glad to see it. In spite of the hard life he had led, Dwalin had not he lost his zeal for life. In the wake of the painful loss of his brother, the last of his family, he had not broken nor become a hollow shell and Thorin believed that the friendship between his old friend and Kili had helped Dwalin to recover from that wound. "How bad was it?" Dwalin asked and only now Thorin noticed the two children on the horse. A small auburn haired child in front of Kili and a bigger one behind him.

Kili lifted the child up and handed it down to Dwalin. "Have someone bring those two to Deep Dale, will you? Their grandparents are silk traders there, they are half southern and I hardly understand what they are saying."

Dwalin gestured two guards to take the children. "I'll send Lachanar to deal with that, he knows the trade quarters front and back and can talk a Dragon's Ear off if he wants to. But you are evading the question, my Prince."

Kili dismounted the horse as well, so the stable boys could lead it away. "Trolls," he said grimly. "Five of them, must have come from the Withered Heath, they had made their sweet camp in the caves under Barrow Mound. Did I ever mention I hate Trolls? At least there was no sage involved this time."

Up where he stood Thorin bit his lip, there was a large part in him that wanted to go down and chide Kili for being reckless. Going up against several trolls alone! But he did not say a word, Kili had grown into a fine warrior and very skilled fighter, he knew how to handle himself in such situations. He was not that boy Thorin loved to remember, but a warrior in his own right, he had turned 80 the last autumn and by now no one would whisper that he was too young, even if he still showed not much of a beard. Thorin heard Dwalin's laughter ring up from down below. "Not all trolls are cooks, Kili, a certain trio notwithstanding."

Both warriors walked slowly out of the entrance hall. "Let's go up to Frostwind Hall telling you about trolls will be more fun over a jar of wine," Kili said. "And I have heard some interesting rumors up from the Withered Heath, some hunters think they have located a drake nest…"

"Much as I'd love to talk you out of gifting your esteemed father with a dragon egg over a keg, Lady Dís wants to see you right away." Dwalin grumbled. "Must be important, for she made it a point to tell me twice."

Kili laughed. "If you called her Lady Dís, she will have thrown something at you, her hammer preferably. Of some ink jar if Brea was close by." He tilted his head as they walked out of the gauntlet. "And you really do not have any idea what this is about."

Dwalin snorted. "You can think of what it is. And if you can't, you have been sneaking away the last fifty times the discussion came up."

"Usually Fili gives me the summary of that later," Kili agreed. "But yes… I can guess what it is about. You better come along, Dwalin, we may need reinforcements there."

TRB

Dís was not surprised that her sons would arrive in nearly lockstep at her study. They might have been in different parts of the Mountain or even outside, but they would always gravitate back to each other once they reached the palace. She was also unsurprised that Kili had been bringing Dwalin to the discussion; she greeted the old friend of the family warmly. "Dwalin, take a seat, I am glad you came as well – we might need your help."

Dwalin sat down in one of the comfortable chairs before her fireplace. "What has you worried, my Lady?" he asked, he could well guess what this was about – there were only two immediate topics, but he would not assume, it might well be that something else had happened.

"There is no worried Lady here, Dwalin." Dís sat down, leaving the procurement of goblets and wine to her sons. "only the sister of a King trying to get some form into a kingdom positively allergic to formalities." She thanked Fili with a nod when he handed her the goblet. "It has been more than three years since we returned, four since Smaug fell, Dwalin… and while no one in his right mind inside this Mountain would question Thorin's leadership, there are whispers among the other dwarven kingdoms, many wonder why Thorin has not been formally crowned King under the Mountain. His hesitation creates questions, Dwalin, he is the descendant of the Elder Line of Durin's House, and as such stands above them… but his tarrying creates tensions."

"Have you talked to him about that?" Dwalin asked, crossing his mighty arms in front of his chest. "I agree on the principle, I would prefer to know that we do no longer stand on the oaths sworn to when your grandfather ruled these halls, but on oaths to our true King. But… I understand that Thorin is hesitant. His father's fate was never confirmed."

"I have spoken to him," Dís said, her fingers drumming on the side of her armchair. "and I asked him if he wished to conduct any search for Thrain's fate. But… he seems to know enough of our father's fate. It is not what casts doubts on him, something else makes him hesitant." He eyes went to her sons, who sat side by side, with Kili leaning close to his brother to whisper something to him. "And I suspect you two would know something, you were with him during the quest… and I was given to understand that you were witness when he destroyed the Arkenstone."

Dwalin had to exercise some control when he heard that, he did not know what the boys had told their mother on how the Arkenstone had been lost, but it seemed they had been more than creative with the truth.

"And the Arkenstone was a symbol of Thrór's rule, may he sleep in a pile of gold," Kili said dryly. "Mother – everyone in this Mountain knows Thorin is King, with or without a spectacle called coronation. Why do we care what Dáin and his ilk think?"

"Because – because this is a matter of precedence in between the dwarven Houses and…" Dís gasped for air, when she saw Kili grin at her with all brazenness he had displayed as a boy, he had goaded her on purpose.

"I will talk to Thorin, Mother," Fili said gently, like always he was there to prevent a clash of tempers between the more hot-headed members of his family.

"Talk to me about what?" Thorin had entered Dís study, unsurprised to find most of the family and his best friend assembled there. He cast an amused glance at Dwalin. "If they are getting you into ganging up on me, it must be truly important this time."

Dwalin sighed, he wished Balin was here to talk sense to Thorin, to gently remind him of what was necessary. His brother had always had the right words, had known when to approach Thorin about such things. "Thorin," Dwalin began, feeling his lack of words weighting him down. "the Mountain needs a King. No one doubts you, and I'll bash Dáin's skull if he says otherwise. But… if you do not take the throne formally…" he did not find the good arguments, he needed. "I wish Balin were here to tell you," he grumbled. "he would know what to say."

Walking towards the fireplace Thorin leaned against the warm stones, here, inside these rooms he allowed his outward role to slip away, here he was less of a king, but a father, brother, friend. "I had to wait, Dwalin…" he said, his eyes going to the dancing flames. "…I needed to be sure, sure I could do it… that I would not fall to it again."

Dís frowned. "Fall to what?" She asked, looking up at her brother, then her eyes widened. "Oh no… Thrór's sickness, father's madness… do not tell me that you too? No… you can't, Thorin!" Dís jumped to her feet. "I lost a father and a grandfather to it… not you to… not you, please."

Thorin wordlessly drew his sister into a hug, he alone knew how Dis had suffered during their childhood, with the shadow of Thrór's gold sickness and their father's increasing strangeness haunting her. "It was short-lived," he tried to reassure her. "Fili and Kili… they broke me out of it."

"And you feared it might happen again," Dis understood what Thorin was saying. The mines had picked up work three years ago, and they were very productive, gold and mithrál mines both. The Mountain was not only rich in the treasure they had liberated from the dragon, but in all that was brought up to the light every new day. It was a sign of wisdom that Thorin had been careful. "Still… we can't wait much longer. If you wait more than five years and the first people might consider that it is the dragonslayer that should take the throne…"

"Me? No!" Kili protested loudly.

Thorin could not help it but laugh his deep rumbling laugh at Kili's loud protests. His son was still uncomfortable with his role and… Thorin sighed, a coronation would also mean formally naming his crown prince... His eyes met Fili's gaze and somehow Fili again knew what he was thinking and gave him an encouraging smile. How he always managed to step back behind his brother without the slightest envy amazed and humbled Thorin. "Very well then," he said to them, his eyes going back to Dis. "I will comply, we will have the coronation next Durin's Day. But – I will negotiate all the formalities you deem so important."

Dís shook her head. "I should have expected that." She stated dryly. "And I will be a tough negotiator."

TRB

Fili approached the workshop located at the heart of Fireguard Hold, the heart of the craftspeople districts, it was nested between bladesmith's forges and armorer's shops, there was nearly no workshop in this hold that was not a craft of fire and metal. He approached Narvi's forge on soft feet entering through the side entrance, at once spotting two debating figures in the background. Peering around he also spotted a familiar black head. "Fjalari!" he whispered, making his presence known.

Fjalari put aside her work and waved him to come in. "Fili! I had not expected to see you today, not after Bofur said they found this new mineral formation…" her voice trailed off as her eyes went towards the back of the large workshop where her grandfather was discussing something with Thorin. "Or are you here for King Thorin?"

"How long have they been debating?" Fili asked softly, with a wink at her.

"Three hours," Fjalari, replied with a chuckle. "I a understand the problem, I truly do, but… I do not see issue with the solutions at all."

Fili tilted his head, carefully checking that the two debating dwarves had not spotted them. "Enlighten me."

Fjalari handed him one of her tongs as she was twisting gold wire into a mesh. "Thrór's black crown was lost in Moria, that much is well known." She said calmly. "And the ancient crown of Erebor… the dragon sat on that one, it is deformed beyond repair. So, making a new crown is a necessity, his Highness insists to not having it made of gold. Another point I understand, though it will confuse people a lot. A simple silver crown is of course beyond his station…"

"Which puts us in a bind, especially as he does not want mithrál either." Fili said, he knew why Thorin would not want gold… it was a dark metal, and it had hurt him too deeply. "But I do not see a solution."

Fjalari laughed softly, shaking her head. "No disrespect meant, my Lord, but your family sometimes is… adorably direct in their dislikes." She said. "Take a good lode of Moonsilver, add a third Mithrál, and a full half of pure Titanium Steel to the mix, and put it through a three staged smelter, adding another third of Mithrál on the last stage," Fjalari twisted the wires tightly together, the mesh slowly taking shape. "pray to Mahal that the smelter does not blow when the run-off begins… and what do you get?"

Fili's eyes widened. "Star-steel, Fjalari… are you saying your grandfather and you built such a smelter again?" He asked.

"With a Mithrál mine we are practically sitting on?" Fjalari replied. "We worked all year on that smelter." She took the tong from him again, bringing both ends of the mesh together. "I know it is unusual, not to say untraditional, but… King Thorin is a warrior king…"

"I agree, it would fit, and it would end any debates on gold or no gold." Fili agreed with a smile. "You have been thinking about this for some time, haven't you?"

"A little," Fjalari peered towards the back of the workshop. "honestly, I have been thinking more of a shape for a possible crown, trying to guess what way your family will go with it. It needs to be something that fits him after all, and it needs to go with his habit of wearing his hair like this… so circlet shape, I did guess, no prongs, but elaborately formed, which requires a flexible but very durable and strong material…"

Now it was Fili's turn to shake his head. "Women… you have us debate the materials while already planning the finer details, I should have my mother involve you into her plannings." He teased her.

"Please don't," Fjalari suddenly grew serious. "it would not be my place. We can talk of such things here, and laugh at them, because we learned our first works on the very same anvil… but anything else would be wrong. Your mother certainly will have her own ideas for the crown and for an appropriate crown prince's circlet as well. And your Father he is such a great crafter himself… he may have his own ideas too."

Fili sighed, he did not wish for this rift between them, he still wished he could ask Fjalari to come with him to Dís to discuss this, like he would have done in the Ered Luin. He disliked the gulf station and the conquest of Erebor had opened between them. Fjalari was a proud dwarf, a crafter in her own right, tough she still worked in her grandfather's forge and she would not shame herself by stepping beyond her station. "Let… let us suggest it to Thorin," Fili said. "I will do the talking if you prefer."

Author's Note

No, this is not the end – though I apologize for this chapter ends at such a strange point. Until Easter my schedule is going to be very crazy and I will probably not have much time to write. So I have to ask your patience, until my life is back to normal. THANK YOU.

Harrylee94 was her marvelous self again, helping and inspiring me. I suggest you check out her profile for her own amazing stories. :D