Lív's stomach roiled with a bitter disappointment that had her tossing uncomfortably in her bed. The argument with Dwalin echoed in her mind until she could have repeated its entirety by heart. His willingness to write off a boy she looked on as family, his pig-headed refusal to lighten the harsh sentence he had handed down, the callous thing he had said about women - all of it whirled through her thoughts, keeping her awake when she wanted nothing more than to sleep and be numb to the fact that they'd ever quarreled.

Had it been wrong of her to walk away from him? A moment to cool off had seemed the best option at the time. They had reached a stalemate and neither was willing to budge on their stance. More to the point, they had both been growing angrier, which only served to worsen an already poor situation. Maybe Dwalin hadn't intended to hurt her, but he had all the same, and she had been only too ready to say something spiteful in return. No, walking away had been for the best.

She wasn't sure what was more dismaying, that Dwalin would cut Askel off from everything he wanted in life, or that he would say such hurtful words to her. How would Askel handle being denied training after looking forward to it so long? Had Dwalin meant what he said about fondling women whenever one got the inclination? Was that all she was to him? That she might have fallen in love with someone who was just passing time was almost too much to bear.

A voice in the back of her mind whispered that Dwalin loved her. Their hearts had already been threaded together, though they'd not said the words. Still, that night her wounded pride was hardly inclined to listen to such a voice when Dwalin's own stinging words echoed in her thoughts.

Knowing sleep to be impossible, she left her bed early and got dressed. She slipped through the corridors, her feet making soft sounds in the stillness. After checking that no one needed assistance in the healing rooms, she turned towards her refuge. The exercise of climbing the long flight of stairs to the Greenway felt strange in some way she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Once she reached the balcony, she looked down into the main corridor. It was almost entirely empty at this hour, with only one or two dwarves occasionally crossing the lanes. It dawned on her that here was the source of her disquiet - she was used to the hum of Erebor's busyness, not this silence while the Mountain slept. The vast chamber seemed entirely too large in its emptiness and for the first time the scene failed to bring her consolation.

She passed some time watching the Mountain slowly wake and begin its daily cycle of activity. A sense of anticipation filled her as she gazed into the cavern. Her visits to the Greenway had always brought peace, and it was such another comfort that she patiently awaited. After a time, she came to the slow realization that the peace she needed would not be ushered in by any view of the Mountain this time. What solace she had hoped to find could only come through reconciliation.

She could not yet bring herself to seek Dwalin in his chambers again. The embarrassment of waiting for him on his doorstep was too fresh in her memory. She would go to the infirmary and try to distract herself in work.

#

By late afternoon, with nary a patient to tend all day and only so much she could do without one, Lív ultimately decided to abandon the infirmary. She wanted to see how Askel was coping in the aftermath of yesterday's declaration by Dwalin that he couldn't train to be a warrior. Although most of her thoughts had selfishly tended towards Dwalin and herself, the lad's disappointment had been on her mind. He was too young to have such ardent hopes dashed.

Her knock at Runa's chambers was swiftly answered by Askel. He grinned when he saw her - a far cry from the crushed spirit that had been on full display the afternoon before.

"Lív, you won't believe the good news." He never did greet visitors properly. "Come in, you won't believe it." Askel swept her into the room in a rush of excitement.

"Dwalin?" Her outburst at seeing him in her friend's sitting room was as impolite as Askel's offhand greeting. Seated in an armchair, he immediately stood at her arrival. His sheepish expression was strangely at odds with his imposing form. A dwarfling caught with his hands in the sweets could not have looked more guilty than he did just then.

Runa walked into the sitting room holding a steaming teapot. "Lív, come and join us. Captain Dwalin is paying us a visit, but I don't think he'll mind the addition," she said with a wink.

Lív hadn't seen Runa since the unpleasantness in Dwalin's chambers. She hadn't wanted to discuss it, even with her oldest friend, and she hadn't had the heart to tell Askel that Dwalin wouldn't alter his sentence. Runa had no idea of the awkward situation her guests were in.

Perplexed by his presence here, Lív sat on the settee opposite Dwalin, where she could hardly help but stare. She was not alone, for at her side was Askel, watching him with that same reverential awe he'd had at the Celebration. Astra, too, watched Dwalin, although from a different vantage - she had drawn a little stool close to his chair. The dwarfling said nothing but stared up at him with open curiosity. When all had taken their places, Dwalin finally sat down again.

Lív was at an utter loss for what was happening. Dwalin in her friend's sitting room, Askel and Astra gaping at him as though he were Durin reincarnate, Runa serenely pouring tea as though nothing were amiss - none of it quite made sense.

Runa passed cups of tea to her guests. "As you know, Lív, Askel got into a spot of trouble yesterday. Captain Dwalin has come today to suggest a proper punishment."

Dwalin shifted in his chair before turning his eyes to Lív. "I was saying I want Askel and the other lads to work in the armory for two months. They'll learn to properly care for the army's weapons and armor, and perform all the tasks necessary to maintain them."

Once again, Lív just stared at him in confusion. This wasn't the punishment she expected to hear. Askel was trying to maintain calm, but it seemed a war waged inside him over whether or not it was appropriate to jump for joy.

"I've said I think this is more than fair." Runa drank her tea and subtly waved to Astra, apparently trying to get the girl to leave off her fawning over their guest. Astra couldn't be bothered to notice.

"It is more than fair," Lív repeated stupidly. She felt like she'd slipped on ice again and didn't quite have her footing yet.

Dwalin cleared his throat and looked to Runa. "You'll pardon the intrusion, but any dwarf worth their beard ought to know how to wield a sword. If Askel wants training, I'll see to it myself."

"That's very kind of you, Captain Dwalin." Runa slyly glanced from him to Lív and back. "If Askel is willing, I can have no objection." Askel nodded his enthusiastic agreement. The lad was likely to run through the rooms shouting for joy the moment Dwalin left, but for now he managed to keep still.

Dwalin turned his gaze on Lív then, and the hope he held in his eyes cut straight to her heart. For as stubborn a dwarf as she knew him to be, this reversal was an unusual show of humility. He went above and beyond what any present might have hoped. Her anger of the previous evening was quickly turning to admiration and pride.

"That's settled, then." Dwalin set his teacup aside and Lív realized she'd been too flummoxed by the entire situation to even take a sip of hers. "I won't tread on your hospitality any longer. Askel, I expect to see you and your friends tomorrow morning in the armory, bright and early." Askel nodded his understanding. He would probably be ready and waiting far earlier than was reasonable.

Dwalin stood to go and Lív, too, stood, lest he leave her behind. "I should go, too."

"May I see you wherever it is you're headed?" His formality was dismaying for the distance implied.

"I would like that." She smiled at him, hoping they could put the awfulness of last night behind them. His relief relaxed his mouth into a smile of his own and he offered her his arm. As she took it, she was sure she looked as awestruck as Astra and Askel.

"We'll have to have you both over for supper very soon." Runa's mouth twitched up as she looked at the two of them in her doorway. Dwalin nodded his thanks, apparently seeing nothing odd in the joint invitation, and they departed.

They walked the corridors in strained silence. Lív was yet too confused to speak all the words she'd so often rehearsed the night before. Frustration, anger, hurt, admiration - her heart had caromed about unceasingly since yesterday afternoon.

After a time, she said the thing that seemed on safest ground. "Thank you."

He glanced down at her and a grumbling sound came from his throat. "I owe you an apology and you thank me." Dwalin led them to an out of the way alcove where he turned to face her. "Can you forgive a stubborn old dwarf?"

In answer, she closed the slight distance between them, pressing her cheek against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and seemed to breathe her in, his arms wrapped tight around her. Lacing her arms around his waist, she found the comfort that had been absent on the Greenway.

She pulled back to look him in the eye. "I forgive you. Can you forgive me? I should not think to tell you how to manage your warriors. I know nothing of battle."

"Aye, I forgive you," he said, brushing her hair back from her face. "Though you were more in the right than I was."

She shook her head, unwilling to give him all the blame. "I've spent so many years being in charge, it's difficult for me to allow that anyone else may know better than I do."

"A fault we share, then." A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

She gave him a sharp look. "We may drive each other to madness with this shared fault."

He lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I may yet mellow in time."

She couldn't help but laugh at his unfounded optimism. "You do realize you could not give Askel a greater gift than your punishment?"

"I'm aware of it." He pulled her close again and pressed his chin against her head. "His work in the armory won't be light. He does deserve a punishment for his recklessness. I meant what I said, weapons are not to be treated lightly."

"And women?" Her voice was muffled slightly by his tunic, but he caught the words.

Dwalin took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. His regret was plain. "They're not to be treated lightly, either. I should never have said such things to you yesterday." He sighed in exasperation. "I've spent most of my life in rough living among warriors. It's not easy for me to soften my ways."

She smiled fondly at this admission. "I might have noticed."

"Aye, and you'll need to have patience with an impatient man." He brushed at her hair again, trailing his fingers along her temple, behind her ear, to the back of her neck.

"Do not go on so, or I will feel compelled to list all of my flaws for you, and you'll run screaming from the Mountain."

He broke into a true smile, a sight she loved to see. "Not I." He leaned down and kissed her slowly, almost tentatively. When he pulled back, he glanced about them and soft laughter came from his chest. "Here we are in a hallway again."

She laughed, too, and led them the rest of the way to her chambers. Once inside, she gestured for Dwalin to sit but he shook his head. He stood before the fireplace with a grim expression.

"Yesterday was not entirely Askel's fault, as you might have guessed." He spoke seriously now, his voice low. "He's too like Kíli, in looks and deeds. The reminder was too much. Thorin and the lads, they were family. I carried their bodies off the battlefield, Lív. I'm not yet over their deaths."

"You may never be," she said softly. "You cared for Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews. You will always feel their loss."

"Some days it still cuts me to the quick. Should I not be stronger than this?" He looked at her with a quiet desperation, as though she alone had the answer.

"Do you not see the strength it reveals?" She placed her hands on his chest over his heart. "Your love has not faded away, though they have passed on. I admire that in you." His mouth turned up slightly at this praise. "I am privileged to know someone with such strength of heart."

He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. "You do know you are here, too? In my heart?"

"I had hoped."

"Lív, Lív," he whispered, "your name means life, and that is what you have given me." She did not answer except by pressing her lips to his.

When at last they parted, she looked up at him with a sly smile. "May I ask you a question? What have you done to Astra? Askel's admiration I understand, but I can't make out why she's so taken with you."

He barked out a laugh. "You can't make out why a lass is taken with me? A lesser dwarf might be offended." He fixed her with a warning look. "While you were dancing with Balin and Óin at the Celebration, the lassie launched into recitations of poetry and the like. She asked if I knew of any, so I told her one."

Her mouth dropped open. "You recited poetry for Astra?" Would this dwarf ever not take her by surprise?

"Most anything will sound lovely if you say the words right."

One corner of her mouth turned up. "What did you recite for her?"

He circled her waist with his arms. "It told of a man's great appreciation and admiration."

She quirked her eyebrows. "For?"

Dwalin smiled. "His axe."

#

Snow fell thick in Dale. If Dwalin had known the journey would be in such poor conditions, he might not have gone. He was not so desperate to see the place again that he must trek a league through snowdrifts. But gone he had, trudging alongside the dwarves pulling a handcart laden with crates of newly-forged swords. Erebor's blacksmiths had incorporated Dale's new insignia into the hilts, but beyond this they were of basic make. Even so, they were far superior to the ones that had been taken from the orc corpses weeks ago. This was the first hundred of the agreement, enough to be sure a strong group of soldiers would be well-armed.

As they approached Dale, the great front gate was slowly pushed open wide by soldiers. The dwarves tugged the cart safely inside Dale's walls before the gates were shut again. Dwalin watched as Men unloaded the crates from the handcart with care. Whatever he might think of the race of Men generally, these soldiers, at least, understood the value of good weapons.

"Dwalin, I did not expect to see you." Bard strode over, looking for all the world like a beggar. Although dressed in layers against the cold, he yet wore the tattered old coat he'd worn on their first meeting. Dwalin was never sure if this humility was natural, or an affectation adopted to better fit in among people who were unused to having anything so lofty as a king.

"It seemed a fine day for a walk."

Large snowflakes fell into Bard's black hair as he looked about. "Oh yes, excellent weather for it," he said dryly. "Can I invite you into the halls for a warm up before you head back? We've still a few hours of light left. Your soldiers are welcome, too, of course."

Dwalin inclined his head in acceptance. He and the other soldiers followed Bard into the main halls of Dale. Though unexpected by Dwalin, the reception had apparently been well planned. Over a roaring fire was hung a great kettle from which came a spicy aroma that filled the room. In addition to the warming cider, a table was laden with more than enough provisions for the fifteen dwarves who had made the short journey from Erebor.

Dwalin approached the fire and sniffed at the great pot. A soldier of Dale filled a mug and passed it to him. "How many did you think were coming? This kettle holds enough drink for fifty."

"I was not the mastermind behind this, to be honest." Bard's mouth tugged at the edges. "My wife wanted to be sure the dwarves of Erebor were well received."

Dwalin watched his soldiers fill their plates and mugs with greedy eagerness. They could not be so cold and hungry as all that. Yet it was free, after all - why not indulge in Bard's hospitality while they had the chance?

He took a drink from his mug. While he would have preferred a cold ale to mulled cider, it was not bad, and did the trick to warm him up nicely. "Your wife is generous."

Bard, too, watched the dwarves partake of food and drink. "She grew fond of Lív in the short time they were together."

"Lív does grow on a person."

Bard nodded sagely but made no remark. Smart man. Dwalin gave him a stony stare. "Have you seen any orcs of late?"

Bard's expression was suddenly serious. "None in the last few weeks. Their absence is not unusual in winter, yet I don't like the idea of them lying low, mustering their strength."

Dwalin neither liked to think of them lying low nor on the move. Dead and burned had first preference. That the orcs might seek out the Iron Hills in their desperation was still a concern. Then again, no place was safe when orcs were out of their minds with hunger. His scouts had seen neither hide nor hair of them, but that was no guarantee of security.

"Better that they lie low than roam about in madness." Dwalin kept his voice low. "A starving orc is worse than any rabid animal. You'd do well to put these new swords in the hands of your soldiers as quick as you may."

"You can count on it. My men will be lining up to trade in their arms as soon as the crates are opened."

They stood a moment and just watched as soldiers of Dale and Erebor mingled together while they ate. A few engaged in a rowdy conversation to see who had the highest number of battle kills. Dwalin just shook his head at his soldiers' boasts. He'd put them all to shame if he joined in the comparison, but he wouldn't do such a thing. Let the lads be proud of their tens and twenties. Would they had no opportunity to increase those counts.

"In days of old, no orc would have dared come within fifty leagues of the Lonely Mountain."

"Perhaps the orcs need a new lesson in the might of dwarves and men." This was no mere boast of the kind the soldiers were enjoying. Bard seemed in earnest. "I assume you have plans to find them come spring?"

"Aye, to find their holes and burn them out." He looked forward to the day they were found and destroyed.

"Consider, then, an alliance between our kingdoms in the effort."

"Let your soldiers tag along, you mean," Dwalin scoffed.

"Your pride will be your undoing, Captain Dwalin." Bard's insulting tone rather canceled out his polite use of Dwalin's title. His gaze was hard and unflinching. "It's in everyone's best interest to rid these lands of orcs. You're not the only one with a score to settle. You'd do well to remember it." He nodded once and swiftly departed the room.

Dwalin pondered Bard's offer on his slow return to the Mountain. Dale and Erebor had not fought together since the Battle of Five Armies. They'd had little need - until recently, the roving bands of orcs tended to the smaller side and proved easy enough to overcome. Certainly Erebor would not call on Dale for aid.

He could not deny there was some sense in Bard's words, though. Seeking out the orc stronghold would be quicker work for Dale's scouts riding horseback than any dwarf going on foot. If battle were at hand, he'd be a fool to refuse additional soldiers.

And yet, to join forces with the race of Men was an admission of shortcoming. Men were inherently weaker than Dwarves, falling ill at the slightest chill. Even well armed and clad in mail, Men were far more likely to die in battle than any Dwarf soldier. Bard's forces numbered barely one third of Erebor's, with younger soldiers who had little training. Calling on them could be nothing short of a last resort.