Thorin stared at the elves who just happened to be relatives of his nephew by a bizarre plot of his grandfather's. They stared back at him, not with an eagerness to learn about dwarves, but with an almost apologetic air.
Balin coughed. "That is ...rather a personal question to a dwarf."
Elladan nodded, trying to show that he knew that the elves were treading in on areas most considered private. "My son." It was a statement, but also an explanation for asking such a question in the first place.
Kili winced. Being the son in question. As well as it being his private life they were invading. Rudely invading, in his opinion. "Is this really necessary?"
"My son." Elladan's voice firmed. "Is at least half-dwarven. But not wholly. For his best interest alone, and to keep cultural miscommunication to a minimum, I regret that I feel we must ask these questions."
"No." The word was a harsh whisper, but everyone heard, and did fall still. Kili looked up, eyes clearly miserable. He opened his mouth, but seemed to be having trouble finding something to say. Finally he groaned. "I don't want to have this conversation. Not now. Not with everyone." He waved at the room.
Elladan looked around the room as well, considering. "Glorfindel?"
The golden-haired warrior nodded, bowing a bit to a surprised Kili and headed for the door.
Thorin smirked, but he gave a grave nod. "Fili? Get out. Dwalin?" Balin too started to rise, but the king shook his head at his advisor and friend.
Kili turned and stared at his uncle on the elvish side of things. Elrohir's eyebrows rose, but he demurred, rising. "I as well."
With the room clearing, Kili found he was able to breathe a bit easier. Until Thorin stood. The King Under the Mountain pointed at Balin and smiled winningly. "You're the one who's been married before."
The white-haired dwarf looked up in surprise and chagrin. Fili stopped at the door, turning to stare. "What? When?"
Kili looked just as shocked as his older brother.
Thorin went to the door of his private study, pushing his eldest nephew out into the hallway forceabley. "Before Smaug." His voice devoid of emotion
Fili's blue eyes clouded at the implication, the door closing on his pained expression as Kili watched.
"I didn't know." The young prince whispered to someone he'd known his entire life.
Balin nodded his head in a stately manner. "I know, laddie. I know."
Elladan did not miss the implication either. He said something lilting and yet somehow incredibly somber in Elvish.
Balin paused, his eyes saddened. "I only caught part of that, my Sindarin is out of practice."
"The light has lost it's brilliance, the stars have dimmed, the clouds cover the sun and the salt of my tears doomed the soil so nothing more will grow." Elladan's voice echoed the pain his words outlined. "It is an old saying."
"A true one." Balin sighed heavily.
Kili shrank into his chair. The elders in the room, both Dwarf and Elf had lost the loves of their hearts. He was nothing more than a child embarrassed at a topic of conversation. Damn.
Balin gave a wistful smile. "Husosorg."
"Bainnid." Elladan said the name as if a knife were twisting in his heart. Even after at least seventy years.
Hearing the two names, Kili felt his eyes prickle and he rubbed them wearily. He wondered at the two lost loves, and what they'd been like. Suddenly he didn't feel quite like the adult he'd been proclaiming himself to be.
"There is a dwarvish saying." Balin gave a weighted sigh. "It roughly translates into the heart of hearts is now a garden of stone."
Kili's dark eyes shot wide with shock to hear this ultra-traditionalist speak of their secret language to a non-dwarf, even in a round-about way.
"Shut your mouth, dwarfling." Balin gave a sad smile. "I did not give away anything secret. And I doubt that this elf does not know that we dwarves indeed have our own language."
"My father is more the scholar, but I do know of the existance of Khuzdul." Elladan gave a short, respectful bow of his head. "I even heard some from King Thror."
Now Balin's mouth dropped open for a moment before he regained his equilibrium. "The wedding." He nodded.
Kili looked away, swallowing with some difficulty. The wedding. Of his mam. To Elladan. He didn't want to think of their marriage. It made all of this seem all too real. "My life is a punch play."
Balin snorted, while Elladan only looked confused. The older dwarf explained. "Puppet plays for dwarflings. Lot of fighting and punching, the hero always gets banged up quite a bit."
"What is a puppet?" The elf asked, still confused.
"Toy being controlled with strings to tell a story." The white-haired dwarf said with a half-smile.
Elladan nodded, his eyes lighting up with understanding. "We have another name for such a thing."
Balin nodded, unsurprised. "Now then. Waking up. Hmfph. When a male dwarrow is born it is into a body of flesh and blood, not the stone of the first Seven Fathers."
"Durin the Deathless." Elladan gave a brief smile. "I learned this prior to ...well, marrying."
"From King Thror?" Balin asked, curious beyond belief. Still appalled that the king had pulled off such a feat without any of his closest advisors being aware.
"Nay." The elf lord frowned. "I believe it was from Saruman. The White Wizard."
Kili made a choking sound. "Wizards can't even turn off the rain." He said it like he was personally affronted by this lack.
Balin snorted in amusement. "Best to hear dwarf history from a dwarf. So. Flesh and blood we are, but the sexual part of our nature remains cold as the stone from which we originated. Unless we meet and love one who is to be our other half."
Elladan blinked, unsure. "That means what?"
"Nothing pokes out unless we're in love." Kili sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back.
Balin frowned sharply. "Lad, that is a completely crass way of describing a wonderous part of our beings. Who taught you that way?"
"Thorin."
The white-haired dwarf dropped his chin and shook his head in sorrow. "Travesty. Simply a travesty, and him our King."
Elladan looked back and forth between the two, trying to put it all together in his head. "Your bodies don't become hardened unless in love?"
"No." Balin spread his hands as if that explained all. "When a dwarrow 'wakes up' it means his body is reacting to one he loves. Reacting in a way that will create a new generation. Many of our kind never marry, never produce children. For them their craft is all that fills their hearts and they are very happy for it."
The elf lord pushed his hair behind his ears, now looking more confused. "So how did Dis and I?" He pointed at Kili, raising an eyebrow.
Balin smiled sadly. "Dwarrowdams are different than the dwarrows themselves. No need for waking them up, they are fertile. Though some choose not to marry and focus on craftwork as well. It is told that this is because all the Seven Fathers were dwarrow, the females were crafted after the Awakening. Less time being made of stone you see."
Elladan didn't look like he understood everything, but he did manage to get the pertinent parts. "So Kuilaith, excus me ...Kili. Kili's body won't physically be attracted to anyone unless he's in love with them?"
Balin shook his head. Kili stared at the rock face of the ceiling. It was elaborately carved and inlaid with actual mithral and gemstones. His mind was so numb right now that it barely registered. "Thorin said that when a dwarrow 'woke up' then IT would poke out and point him to who he was meant to be with."
A disgusted groan from the elder dwarf drew a sigh from young Kili.
"Has your body ever stirred in such a manner?" Elladan asked his son. For Tauriel, he wanted to ask, but couldn't.
Kili's face heated up again. "Already asked and answered." He muttered.
"No, then." The elf lord seemed curiously satisfied by that answer.
Balin stroked his beard, his mind racing. "The time for a dwarrow's awakening starts anywhere from age 50 to 70 years, or that's when it could possibly start. Older dwarrow have been known to wake up as late as 200 years, although that's rather a late time and is a rare occurrence. Sexual maturity for elves would be?"
"At least a century." Elladan answered without embarrassment. "Perhaps at 90, but certainly no sooner."
Kili groaned. "Sure, hang another sign on me saying that I'm still a child."
Balin chuckled. "Hardly. What I'm getting at is that since Kili will no doubt live a longer life than most dwarrow, his body may just not be mature enough yet to 'wake up'. Even if he has met one that he could love."
Elladan stilled, not wanting his son to yet ask how lengthy a time he might live. Having Kili learn that he will long outlive his loved ones was not a discussion he wanted to have before he was more sure of a few things. His son was already hurting far too much.
Kili's head popped up and he gave a tentative smile. "So, I could have met my love and just because things haven't poked out ... she could still be my love?"
"Crude. But yes." Balin sighed. "Let us start over from the beginning."
"Why?" Kili asked with a moan.
"Because Thorin has a lot to answer for." Balin muttered sourly.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"Why does a mixed blood mongrel still sit so close to the throne of Erebor? He should be removed from the line of succession." Muttered an angry looking dwarrow with a blade scar across his craggy features. The scar crossed over his cheek and forehead, but spared his eye. Barely.
His companion frowned sharply, uncomfortable. Both had arrived with Dain Ironfoot, from the Iron Hills. Both were chafing at being directed around by those few who had come to be known as the Company. "Don't let any of King Thorin's pets hear you speak like that." He took a long pull off his mug of ale.
"Dain should rule." Sneered the first dwarrow, the scarred one. "He's a war hero, just like the Oakenshield. And not tainted by the madness of his line. And to find out, the king's sister spread herself for an elf of all ungainly creatures." He made a disgusted sound.
Some of the other dwarrow, drinking companions but not friends, moved away. A few others stayed where they were.
Silently, Brinarg watched. Not taking part, but making note of who was ripe to be approached for such a delicate endeavor. He hid his sly smile behind his ale tankard. He had his message. The bounty on King Thorin's head was gone, wasted. There was a new target now, and the possible rewards were that much higher.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Thorin looked up as the unlikely trio entered the informal dining hall. The elf looked thoughtful while Kili appeared pale. Balin was fuming. The king grinned while he watched.
Balin fairly marched over to his king as he sat with Dwalin and Fili. "Had to start over from the beginning." He complained, reaching for his own brother's ale.
Dwalin handed him the tankard without qualm, his lips twitching. "Why?" He asked in his usual gruff voice.
"Because Thorin, mighty king that he is, mucked it all up." Balin sneered as he downed his ale.
Fili laughed, right before Thorin cuffed him next to his ear. "Right. Well. Fun's over." The King Under the Mountain ignored his advisor's comment. "Work. Fili. I expect you at the armory bright and sharp. We have to sort out what we have, what we need and what we can send to Mirkwood or Dale. Repairs, everything. Names of the dwarves on work detail for you has already been posted."
Fili nodded solemnly, his chest expanding a bit to be so trusted.
"Kili!" Thorin called his younger nephew over to him. "After your ...after Lord Elrond and the others take their leave tomorrow I want you to test what warriors we have for archery skills. We are going to need to mount the walls with defense. I don't trust that any of the bows from before are still viable, check them. You are our best bowyer. Let me know what you need."
The dark-haired princed smiled grimly, pleased but still feeling off.
As if sensing his nephew's mood. Thorin wrapped his large hand around the back of Kili's neck, pulling him in close. The uncle and king leaned in and put his forehead against the younger dwarrow's. With his free hand, he reached for Fili.
Elladan's breathing held for a moment, watching as without words, the three dwarves stood there. The King resting his forehead against one, and then the other. The two younger dwarrow relaxing, tension melting away. He didn't know if this was culturally significant, or merely a family thing. Either way, his heart was quite literally aching.
Anger and pain reared their ugly damned heads as Elrohir walked up behind him. His twin brother put his hand on his shoulder in a silent sign of support. Elladan forced himself to relax, trying to let the jealousy go. Wishing with all he had that he'd not missed the last seventy-eight years of his child's life.
o.o.o.o.o
*One Week Later*
o.o.o.o.o
"It's only been a week." Elrohir offered with a sigh, watching his twin toss aside an arrow he'd been trying to fletch.
"Over a week." Corrected his twin brother.
Elrohir snorted softly. "A Northman's week then. We've been too long in training the Rangers. I start to count time as they do."
Elladan nodded to show he was listening.
"Now Caduras and Lutheron go to take our place in the North. Letting us remain here." Elrohir continued. "Where it has still been only a week. You can't expect great changes so soon."
Elladan stretched his fingers and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. Fletching was tedious work, but needed to be done properly. This mood he was in wasn't conducive and his task was suffering. "In that week he's said fourteen words to me. Each of them consisting of 'good morning' and that is it. He's said more to Lady Galadriel than to me."
"Truth." Elrohir allowed, a sad smile tilting his lips upward. "But they weren't particularly nice words." He reminded his brother, recalling how Kuilaith had seemed almost bitter when he'd demanded an answer on why Tauriel had been forced from Mirkwood. "I thought Glorfindel was going to burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh."
Lady Galadriel had only smiled at him. It had been Tauriel herself who'd set Kuilaith straight, that she'd been offered a choice and she'd taken it. No force had been involved. Her choice.
"Where is Glorfindel?" Elladan asked. "I could stand to blow off some energy with a small skirmish."
Elrohir shrugged one elegantly muscled shoulder, so different from the more bulky dwarves living in Erebor. "Last I saw he was talking with Dwalin about the proper balancing of axes."
"Glorfindel seems to be having no problems getting along with the dwarves." Elladan's voice held a note of betrayal despite his best efforts.
His twin laughed at that and nodded. "Well, neither of us slew a balrog nor did we rob our own tomb for a sword." Elrohir glanced up, movement catching his eye. "The young scribe, Ori I believe, actually was brave enough to ask him if his body was still in the tomb when he opened it."
Elladan looked up at his brother's face, attention caught. "Did Glorfindel give an answer?" This had been a burning question among the elves for centuries.
"No." Elrohir answered quietly, looking down at his brother. "The mighty hero still refuses to speak of it. Be ready, your son approaches."
It took Elladan a second to switch from the topic of Glorfindel's past. He did manage not to look startled as Kili stopped in front of him. Barely.
Dressed in typical dwarvish manner, it was difficult to see his more elvish features. A more slender frame, a nose not quite long enough, and features a bit too delicate looking for dwarvish beauty. Yet the lad looked so right to his father's eyes, even in the heavy leathers sporting dwarvish designs and runes.
"Good morning." Kili greeted him, caution in his voice. As usual.
Elrohir fought off a smile even as Elladan returned the greeting. But for once, the young prince didn't move off immediately. The silence between them was an awkward one.
The outcome of the quiet stand-off was a foregone conclusion. No one could really outwait an elf, least of all a young dwarf with something on his mind. Kili cleared his throat, then pointed at the arrows his father had been fletching that morning. "Those fletchings. They're not straight."
Elladan nodded, hearing no disparagement but rather the question behind the words. "Helical set." He reached for one of the arrows, holding it up to his son to get a better look. "It grasps the shaft at an angle to introduce torque."
Kili grunted, his dark eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Why?"
Elladan could hear real curiousity in the youngster's voice, but also a hint of something else. Or maybe the father in him just wanted there to be something else in his son coming to him. Instead of dwelling on it he answered the question. "Increased range and control." Elladan said quietly, then made what was perhaps the most important offer in his long life. "Want to try shooting some?"
The question was mild, but both twin elf lords held their breath as they waited for a response.
Kili looked off into the distance, but saw nothing as his mind worked over the baited question. No one pretended it wasn't an offer to spend time together, father and son.
Instinctively Elladan knew not to push, but waited. Finally, after several long moments, Kili gave a jerky kind of nod.
Elrohir smiled rather weakly with relief. "You could have gone to Tauriel."
Elladan stiffened, shooting his brother an incredulous look. But Kili relaxed a little and pulled a face. "Don't want to look bad in front of her." He said candidly.
Sensing an unsure and fragile peace offering, Elladan nodded carefully. "I've seen you shooting this week. You won't look bad."
Kili tensed up a bit, clearly still uncomfortable. "For a dwarf."
Elladan's eyebrows rose. "You've not missed a target yet." And yes, he'd been watching. Of course he'd been watching.
The dark-haired young male sighed, clearly chewing over something important to him. He shot a glance first at his father, and then his elvish uncle. "Dwarves stand still and shoot. Plant our feet and bang one out after another."
Elladan didn't pretend not to understand. "Elves move constantly. It makes us a harder target to catch."
"Effective." Kili nodded, still not meeting his father's eyes. "From what I've seen." He sounded almost resentful, even to his own ears. The young prince coughed and tried again. "I basically trained myself, hunting mostly. Guard work on trading caravans."
"Before you came to Rivendell," Elrohir asked quietly, "had you seen any elves before?" He deliberately used the common language title, rather than the elvish name.
Kili shook his head, knowing better than to explain how his mother had never seemed keen on that particular idea. And now he knew why.
"We can train you in our ways, but it will not be comfortable to you." Elladan offered cautiously, feeling his way through the emotional turmoil he could sense below the surface.
"Because I'm too dwarvish to move like you?" Kili's stubborn jaw jutted outward and his dark-eyes narrowed pugnatiously.
Elladan shook his head very slowly. "Because you'd have to spend a lot of time with us. Elves. And I'm not sure I want to train you."
Kili's mouth went dry, his eyes widening with hurt.
"Because to train you, I might lose any chance of forging a better relationship with you." Elladan continued. "I want us to be ...more. Father and son. I want to be there for you. To train you properly in the way you've asked, I couldn't be gentle or even kind. You may not like me now, but if we do this you might never do so."
Shockingly, Kili laughed, his tension completely dispersing. He shook his head. "I was trained by Thorin and Mister Dwalin. Gentle and kind aren't dwarvish words."
Elladan looked at his twin brother, weighing his options. Finally he gave a nod and pointed at his son. "Lose the boots."
Kili looked down at his best footwear, good heavy dwarvish style boots. "Huh?"
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Thorin grunted in satisfaction as Balin finished his report on the caravan arriving from Lord Bard of Dale. "Food runs heavily to fish, but preserved well for the coming winter."
Balin made a few notations on his lists. "Flour. Salt. Yeast. All good. Cheese isn't dwarvish, but it'll do for this winter. As you know, the fish is plentiful. But it will be a lean winter. Goodly supply of wood though, with promises of more to come."
"The signals came in, the Elven King has pack animals being escorted this way." Thorin couldn't hold back a bitter sneer, thinking about Thranduil. But food was food, and his people needed to be fed over the winter. "Hunting parties are under utilized, but we can't risk much with goblins still running wild out there. And Mordor looking our way."
Balin looked up at his king. "They have no need to look at us."
"We're vulnerable. Yes, we have Erebor back. But we are not the stronghold we will need to be with that Enemy out there." Thorin waved a hand swiftly, ending up pointing at his long-time friend and advisor. "The message Gandalf intercepted, the one with a bounty on my head? Was written in Black Speech."
The elder dwarf hissed at the thought. "You think?" He gestured silently toward the east.
Thorin shrugged and nodded.
"Your door is open."
Both dwarves turned and stared at the imposing figure of the Lady of Light, outlined by the glow of torches on either side of the door. The wide open door.
"It's rude to listen in." Thorin snapped, irate.
"Far ruder to steal kin." The Lady rejoined.
The King Under the Mountain stood more still than any statue, finally he growled. "Are we really going to have that conversation now? Dain and the others aren't even probably half-way to Ered Luin yet."
Lady Galadriel looked at him, almost in sorrow. "Not my original intent, I assure you."
Thorin had trouble meeting her eyes. She looked so young, and her eyes showed so great a depth that appeared as if beyond ages. "Your intent then?"
"To offer aid." The Lady of the Wood, one who was also thought of as a witch by the dwarves, smiled. "More of an accomplishment of aid rather than an offer. Food and other staples are on their way from Lothlorien."
"We didn't ask for that help." Snapped an infuriated Dwarven King, his temper rising close to the top.
The Lady calmly looked at him with her starry eyes and gave a small smile. "You would accept from Thranduil what you will not accept from me?"
Balin made a distressed noise in the back of his throat and Thorin made a hand gesture for patience. He himself tried to rein in his own mounting anger. "I buy the Elven King's assistance. I am afraid of what price you might ask for yours."
"Ah." Galadriel made no move, nor did her expression change. But the pressure of her gaze lessened somehow. "No. I do not seek the release of my kin, my daughter's son's son. You do not hold him by force, and the bonds of love that you have with him would not be for sale at any price."
Thorin stilled, sensing a trap within her words. But try as he might, he wasn't sure what she was trying to pull. "He is easy to love."
Now the Lady of Lorien did move as she bowed her head in acquiescence, her hand moving as gracefully as a feather falling to the ground. "Indeed, that is so."
The King Under the Mountain couldn't help but admire her beauty, for he was a Dwarf and like his kind he appreciated finer things. Ruthlessly he steeled his heart to her. "Why send us aid? We who you think ..."
"Stole our blood?" Galadriel finished for him, choosing words deliberately intended to offend. "Your sister has much to answer for."
"Without her, there would be no Kili." Thorin threw that out there, not thinking through his words.
Startled, Galadriel's eyes widened slightly and she appeared to be pondering what he'd said most carefully. "I will ...consider that." She said quietly. "But in the meantime, while Kuilaith dwells in Erebor, so will Elves. Not always the same ones, but elves no matter."
"Stuck with you, are we?" Thorin's voice dripped with disdain.
"Me? Not always. I must return to my woods in these dark times. But Elladan and Elrohir definitely. Nuluin has stayed on as has Tauriel, though they will most likely travel with me back to Lothlorien when the time is ripe." Galadriel answered far more politely than the king's question warranted. "More will come."
"Glorfindel?" Balin asked almost breathlessly. He had so many questions about that particular elf. Even Dwalin grumbled about that elf less than he did the others.
Galadriel smiled brighter this time. "With the hero, who can say but he himself? That one seems to like Erebor and her inhabitants."
"You take Tauriel with you in the hopes that Kili will follow like a love-struck puppy?" The dark-haired king asked coldly.
The Lady blinked slowly, then shook her head very slightly. "They are too young. Tauriel wishes to travel, to see more of this world than the Mirkwood. I am only too happy to assist one as bright as she, and repay a kindness done to my family even unknowning as she was at the time." She paused and smiled. "It does Kuilaith good to know that there is one Elf he likes at least. But she is not a carrot to be dangled before a cart horse."
Thorin nearly choked as he listened. "So you send foods and supplies, because you ...want to ...what?" He asked leadingly.
"We are not your guests." The Lady's voice was no less musical, but it was if the tone had hardened to a more militaristic air.
"No." Thorin agreed. "Not guests."
Galadriel tilted her head slightly. "But hopefully not enemies. With blood-kin in common."
The King caught his breath, his eyes bulging somewhat. No matter what this witch of an elf said, they were not family.
The Lady continued, ignoring the king's reactions. "It would be wrong for us to drain your resources as you try to build up this stronghold. And an enemy of Mordor is always able to count on Lothlorien for succor."
"We have kin in common, and shared enemies. Is that enough to make us allies?" Thorin couldn't keep the incredulity from his tone.
"This is no small enemy." Galadriel commented dryly.
Thorin whistled under his breath, but nodded albeit with great reluctance. Mordor. Sauron. "Not a small enemy at all." He agreed sullenly.
The Lady then smiled brighter than before. "And no small blood relation. Kuilaith is ..." She seemed to struggle to find the right words.
Thorin frowned at this beautiful and ancient being. "He is indeed. But a shared bridge through my nephew does not make us related to one another."
"No." Galadriel agreed far too readily, Thorin was almost insulted.
"You agreed to the marriage between Elladan and Dis." The king threw the words at her almost rudely, making Balin's eyes widen in wary concern.
The Lady of Lorien frowned slightly. "Actually, I did not. That was accomplished with Saruman the White, King Thror and Lord Elrond. I was not for the match, though I was also not against." Galadriel seemed uneasy for the first time. "I was not approached. My knowledge of their arrangement came after."
"So, no celebrating a wedding for you." Thorin sighed. "Either of us. King Thror sought no opinion from me and did not even tell me after."
"Celebration." Galadriel seemed to be testing the word on her tongue. "A celebration should be held. For stances made, ground gained, and blood shared." The Lady seemed surprised by her own words. Then her eyes shone with satisfaction. "Yes. A celebration of some sort."
"We're holding a Durin's Day dinner next week. Late. But we were busy facing down a dragon on the actual start of the new year." The older, white-bearded dwarf smiled. "Nothing grand, but an observance and something of a celebration."
Thorin turned and stared at his advisor, appalled. Had Balin just invited the damned elves to a dwarven holiday? "I'm sure the Lady and her kin don't celebrate Durin's Day."
"I did not have more than a passing knowledge of Durin the Deathless, our paths were not the same ones. However, I did meet several of his later lives. The Second Durin was polite enough, but the Third crafted the most marvelous poetry."
Balin sputtered, almost visibly reeling. "The Fourth was a great warrior." He said, his voice weak.
Galadriel gave a small smile to the elderly advisor. "Actually, all the Durins were great warriors in their own ways. Axes being the preferred weapon, except for the Fifth. He did so enjoy the use of a war hammer."
Thorin nearly fainted at the thought, his heart speeding up with shock. He stared at the She-Elf, unable to comprehend this female and how she might actually be Kili's great-grandmother of all things.
"Dwarves and I have a long history, including my husband and I being escorted safely through Khazad-dum on our way to Lothlorien." Galadriel pursed her lips in a becoming smile. "I must not forget that in my anger over Kuilaith. Perhaps a celebration of Durin's Day would be the correct thing after all. I accept. It would be both an honor and a pleasure."
"Splendid!" Balin grinned widely. "It's a feast, some singing and dancing. Presents. But nothing big, simple gifts to wish loved ones a blessed new year."
Thorin's stare turned into a baleful glare of consternation. His advisor ignored him.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Kili winced, staring balefully up at the sky. Again. Panting, he rubbed his still healing ribs as he rose up, resting back on his elbows.
Elrohir smiled calmly and pointed at the single piece of firewood on the ground. Again.
Growling, and wishing they weren't in an open courtyard with everyone looking on. Kili grabbed the piece of wood, about as round as his hand was wide, and set it on it's end. Quickly he stepped up onto it. He winced. "Damned splinters."
"You need better boots." His elvish uncle said evenly.
"Have boots. Good boots." Kili grumbled. "And I still don't know why they're not on my feet!"
Elladan spoke up, watching from one side. "Not better boots. Just different." He amended his brother's statement. "Lighter. Dwarven boots are great for mines most likely. But for the kind of agility you're seeking, they are a deterrent."
There was only room for one foot on the piece of wood that was his perch. Kili struggled to keep his balance, and while he was staying up for the most part, he was sure he looked a right idiot. Two arms and one leg flailing in the air in order to stay aloft. The toes on his balancing leg curled under, as if seeking purchase, but finding none.
"So, this is how you train elflings?" Kili nearly lost his balance as he realized that Fili had joined the group of dwarven onlookers. His chest tightened, feeling the fool.
"No." Elladan answered, his gray eyes missing nothing.
Kili's face turned grim at the perceived insult.
Elrohir's words dispelled that. "This is how we train Rangers."
Fili's mouth drooped a bit, before he grunted and nodded. Kili straightened up and he fought to stay balanced.
"Rangers." The blond older brother said the word with quite a bit of respect. Even out here they'd heard of that secretive, yet well respected group.
"Kili is a bit old to train as an elfling. And he's not one. His build is too bulky." His father said.
"Bulky? Bet it's the first time he's ever heard that said!" Bofur gave his distinctive laugh, only falling quiet as Fili turned to glare at the toy maker. "Right, sorry lads. Continue."
Fili turned back to his brother, standing on a piece of wood better suited for building a fire than anything else. Clad only in his trousers and loose shirt, his leathers and boots off to the side. Sweat made the dark cloth of his shirt cling to his chest and back. "Came out to let you know. Durin's Day celebration dinner in a week."
"I know." Kili bit his lip as his unsteady perch leaned to the left and he adjusted his balance.
Elrohir suddenly tossed a rock at him and Kili caught it, moving without thought. The lad grinned in triumph, right up until the second and third rock came his way. He caught one, the other pelted him in the chest. "Damn it!"
"Dodge." Elladan told his son without inflection in his voice.
"What?" Kili didn't have time to wait for an answer as two more rocks came at him. He dodged them both, but then lost his balance, leaving him staring up at the sky. Again. The word that next left his lips had his father scowling and his uncle and brother laughing. "I hate you all."
Fili came over and offered his brother a hand up. Kili took the help with gratitude. "Cold ground for bare feet."
"I can manage." Kili grumbled. "Didn't bring bedroom slippers with me on the quest."
The blond crown prince of Erebor laughed at his younger brother and then looked around at the two elf lords. His smile dimmed a bit, but he didn't lose it entirely. "Invitation to Durin's Day dinner is extended to our elvish ...guests." He didn't call them family.
Elladan straightened up, his attention snagged. "Is that like a naming day celebration?"
"No. Rather it's a celebration to start a new year." Fili corrected. "Dinner, drinking, dancing and singing. Nothing much, the larder isn't exactly overflowing."
"Presents." Kili grinned, his good mood never staying down for long. "Small presents, nothing like a birthday or Yule."
Elrohir nodded with a grin of rememberance. "So, nothing like a new leather knapsack big enough to hide a dwarfling in, then?"
Elladan chuckled, shaking his head as he too remembered that story.
Kili, reaching for the piece of firewood again, stalled. "Huh?"
Fili froze on the spot. His blue eyes widened. That story sounded familiar, something his mam used to tell him.
Elrohir pointed at the blond. "What was it, fell asleep in your father's new pack and made your parents crazy looking for you for two hours?"
Kili's head whipped around, his dark eyes laughing gleefully at his older sibling. "What? Really? You did?"
"So I've been told." His blue eyes narrowed on the twin elf lords. "But how did you ...?"
Elrohir gave an easy shrug. "There is no one more proud of their heritage and their father than say ...a four year old dwarfling."
Bofur and Kili both laughed as they sensed a good story.
Elladan shook his head. "Let's see. Nehili was strong enough to carry two cows at one time, one for each shoulder."
"Beard long enough to get caught in his belt buckle, with enough beads to make a raven blush with envy." Elrohir added as he mimed the beard in question.
Elladan's look turned fond, making Fili distinctly uncomfortable. "I couldn't read a story like Nehili. Couldn't cook like him."
"I was particularly fond of how you got your smell wrong, brother." Elrohir smirked, pointing at his twin. "Fili followed you around for over a week complaining that you had to be bathing wrong."
Bofur laughed out loud, needing to catch his balance on Kili's shoulder.
Fili stared, unsure and feeling more off-balance than if he'd been the one standing on firewood. "You make me sound like a brat."
Elladan shook his head. "You were proud of your father, and missing him. That was understood. And it was sweet of you to offer to glue a beard on my face so I wouldn't be an embarrassment to you during the Nute'adad ceremony."
Kili was still laughing, his face alight with joy. Bofur though, he sobered a bit, his eyes searching out the crown prince. Fili didn't appear shocked to find out the elf was his 'second-father'. The title of Nute'adad wasn't just an honorary thing. The toy maker wondered if Thorin knew about this.
"When you turned seventy, reaching your majority, I wouldn't wonder that you'd take all night reciting your history." Elrohir seemed amused. "What with all the stories you had on your father plus all the Line of Durin tales?"
Fili grunted, not really answering. Kili looked at his brother and perhaps realized that the blond wasn't as amused by all this as he was. "Fili?"
Not bothering to answer, and unclear on how he would answer if questioned. Fili bent over and scooped up a couple of rocks. "Let's see if you learned anything today. Dodge these!"
Kili whooped and twisted, the first two rocks missing him as he moved swiftly. His dark eyes fairly danced with glee as he caught the third rock in his hand and whipped it right back at his elder brother.
Fili caught the rock himself and tossed it to Bofur, who knew a cue when he got one.
"Head's up laddie!" The toy maker chucked the rock back at Kili who managed to dodge it, but got hit in the knee by one thrown by Fili at the same time.
"Foul!" Kili cried out, gritting his teeth as he spun to dodge two more rocks coming his way. Behind him, Elladan caught one down near his ankle before it hit the ground. In turn he tossed it at Kili's back, scoring a hit. "More fouls!"
Elrohir held up his hands, smiling. "Orcs, goblins and other beasties all smell foul. And fight even fouler. I'd say you're well and truly wounded now."
From the side a rock about three times the size, and with more velocity than any other yet thrown, came hurtling right at his head. The back of his head.
"Down!" Barked Fili, spotting the dangerous projectile.
Without question, without hesitation, Kili dropped flat on his belly. But the missile of a rock never reached him. Elrohir stepped forward, catching the thrown projectile with his bare hand.
Hard eyes all turned toward a disgruntled looking shorter dwarf with close set beady eyes and a long nose. A mealy brown and tan beard reached to his chin with several braids. Iron Hills dwarf. "What? Thought that was the game." He spoke out, as if daring anyone to disagree with him. Arms crossed and in a defensive stance.
"Gagnar." Sighed one of the other watching dwarves, obviously embarrassed by his companion's actions.
Brinarg wandered away, leaving the dwarves and their pet elves talking and arguing with each other. He didn't want to get involved. But he'd made a mental note, of course. Who was upset with old Gagnar for attacking the young elfish abomination, and who looked rather pleased. There were a few names there to check out. Yes indeed.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Later that night, Fili was having trouble falling asleep. Staring up at the intricate carvings and inlay above his bed, he wondered which former prince or princess of Erebor had used this room? He'd have to ask Balin.
It was beyond odd to have a bedroom bigger than half their entire cabin back in Ered Luin.
A dragon had stolen his heritage from him and his family. Forced them to live near the line of poverty. Fili snorted, sometimes they'd been beyond that line of poverty. He could remember nights of bellies only half full, and having to do without on many a day. Yet it had been a good life. Or so he'd thought.
But the biggest treasures stolen from him and his brother, it wasn't Smaug taking the blame.
Nehili. It had been a very long time since Fili had thought about his father. A good dwarf of humble bloodlines, but fiercely loved by his wife and son. When had he stopped telling stories about his da? Well, that was easy enough. When it had become apparent to him that poor Kili had no father, and no stories to tell.
Mam had not only kept Kili from his father, she had cut him off from any sense of belonging. Fili had stepped in and made both of Dis' sons heirs of Durin. Thorin's. Upon reaching their respective majorities, both brothers had sung songs and praise ...of Thorin, Thrain, and Thror. Their uncle the only father they had. Not one tale had been told by the young blond about his true father, not that night or any other.
But Fili knew the tales about Nehili. His da. And he'd ignored them. For love of Kili. Something he would never, ever regret. For his whole life though, Fili had hated the thought of Kili's da. Alive somewhere, ignoring his son.
Only that wasn't the truth.
The crown prince of Erebor stared holes into his ceiling. The deep well of his anger boring into the bedrock of his heart.
Mam had stolen more than one father, and from more than one son.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Sigan escorted the travel weary group into his home, gleefully ignoring the mud stained iron boots of the already legendary leader of the Iron Hills. "Calbrinia! Wine for the lords!"
"We won't be staying." Dain Ironfoot glowered. "On our way to Ered Luin."
Sigan the Dwarf eyed the hero of Azanulbizar, bowing deeply. Then turning to the elf by his side, his welcoming bow much shallower this time. Dwarf and Elf travelling together with a large escort of dwarrow warriors. How odd were these times in which they lived?
Hinnin ignored Sigan and his prissy looking braids. "I thought he said that he had message birds?" He asked in the common tongue.
"I have messages already written out. Just no birds available in Erebor, and none in Dale trained to go to Ered Luin." Dain eyed their host. "We only stop here to water and rest the mounts, gather further supplies. Do you have the birds you promised?"
"Of course!" Sigan nodded, eager to please. "I've sent for young Brerin, he tends the winged ones."
"You are going to warn her?" Hinnin asked quietly.
Dain nodded, not bothering to lie.
On the long trek out, the two had become rather unlikely friends. Mostly due to a mutual dislike of a certain green leafy vegetable and the appreciation of a well aged stout. They'd had long conversations on the use of oak wood with fermentation processes.
It helped that neither discussed Elven or Dwarvish history, Thranduil's actions, or the marriage of an elf lord to the daughter of a dwarven prince. It made for a better journey that way.
"Wine, da?" The dwarf-maid entered the room, looking less like a daughter and more like a warrior born. Beautiful and powerful all at the same time.
Sigan fairly preened as both males eyed his daughter, taking in her lithe form and muscled body. Long, rich chestnut hair was braided almost severely, exposing the elegant line of her cheeks and throat. No beard, but soft curly sideburns enhanced the sleek lines of her face.
Dain smiled grimly. "News is thus. Erebor is Dwarven once more. We ride to Ered Luin to reach there before winter truly sets in. In the spring there will be caravans of those returning to their former homes. Before that, however, we will be pushing back to Erebor hopefully before the full snows fall."
"Travel in winter is never easy in the mountains." Calbrinia spoke quite seriously. "If you wait too long, the passes will be closed."
Sigan shushed his daughter with a fussy wave of his hand. Dain fought back a frown. There was entirely too much lace decorating this dwarf. Interesting that his daughter wore nothing but sparring leathers. Well used ones. He eyed her carefully. She appeared young, most likely under a century, but an adult at least.
"When we come back through we will make room for any wishing to travel to Erebor before the general population starts out in the spring." Dain offered, thinking that this fine and lovely female might make a crown prince turn his head.
Hinnin turned and gave the Iron Hills dwarf a lingering look of question.
"Oh, that Thorin. He sent out all sorts of calls for arms. I sent what help I could." Sigan murmured, his eyes not quite meeting Dain's.
The warrior bit back a sigh. Knowing this type. They were all supportive, AFTER the battle had been won.
"King Thorin's advisor would not accept me for the quest." Calbrinia spoke almost harshly. "As I am unmarried."
Sigan looked shocked, staring at his daughter as if she'd grown a second head. "You didn't tell me you'd offered to actually go with him?"
Dain grinned beneath his beard. Yes. This one might be worth introducing to Fili and perhaps even Kili, even if the elves might think him too young. The royal line needed fleshing out with good and fine dwarflings. "We hope to be in Ered Luin before the end of the month. We will waste no time in returning."
Calbrinia nodded. "There are others here who will wait for spring and better travel conditions. But there might be a few ..."
"As long as they are capable of swift travel and won't complain of travel rations. They will be welcome." Dain bowed, his authority inherent to him and not a product of lace and velvets.
Sigan bobbed his head almost nervously, wanting to pull his daughter away and chide her for even thinking about travelling in the winter. The very idea was ludicrous.
Young Brerin did indeed turn out to be a youthful dwarf, barely fifty if he was a day. But the lad knew his birds, and the messages were off within less than a quarter hour.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
A/N: Bit of a long chapter. Transitions. Hope you enjoyed and I certainly hope to hear from anyone with a comment or question! Sorry this one took a bit longer to get out.