They trudged along the road weary from the rigors of the journey. At last Meta began to think she recognized some of the ravines that they worked their way through. It had been decades since she had been anywhere near here, but there was a feeling, a sense of the familiar about it all. Gandalf really was bringing them to Rivendell!

At last they passed through the final ravine and walked the last path. They stood in a courtyard surrounded by high cliffs and plunging waterfalls. It was as magical as she had remembered. She took a deep breath and it smelled like home. Her reverie was shattered by the grumbling and grousing of her fellow dwarves.

'Elves! We have to stay with Elves? Really Gandalf, this is almost too much,' Dwalin complained.

'My dear Dwalin, you may leave at any time. However if you wish to continue to eat for any length of time, I suggest you hold your tongue and act as politely as you can manage!' the wizard retorted. 'Lord Elrond is our only chance to continue this adventure. Without his help we can neither go forward nor return without facing dire consequences.'

The dwarves quieted but there was still muttering and cursing through many a bearded mouth. Meta shook her head in dismay. How could anyone have such a poor opinion of Elves? They could be priggish and snooty she knew, but in general they were well-intentioned.

A group of Elves approached down one of the walkways from above. Meta recognized Elrond at its head. The moment of truth was at hand if he noticed her. While she didn't try to hide, she also didn't push to the front of the company. Let the chips fall where they may. Thorin and the rest would discover her secret eventually.

Gandalf greeted Elrond and they held a quiet conversation while the dwarves milled around trying to behave. At last, the two faced the group. 'Lord Elrond is quite willing to have you as his guests. He has also promised to give us supplies for the next leg of our journey.' With this glad news, the dwarves managed a rigid smile or two. Some even bowed their heads in thanks.

Gandalf continued, 'Allow me to introduce our leader, Thorin Oakenshield.' Thorin stood forward and bowed his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

'Greetings, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. You are most welcome in Rivendell. Long ago I knew your grandfather. He was a worthy king.'

Thorin said, 'Thank you. I am honored.' He bowed his head slightly yet again.

Elrond surveyed the rest of the crowd. 'And welcome home, Meta, daughter of Brin.'

The dwarves all turned to stare at her when these surprising words were uttered. With a sigh, Meta bowed in acknowledgment. 'Thank you, Lord Elrond. It has been too long,' she said in Sindarin.

She noticed Thorin staring at her not with outrage but with confusion written on his face.

The diplomatic niceties exchanged, the dwarves were shown to their rooms. When the attendant tried to put Meta in a room with Bombur, she protested. 'I know I may be a bit grubby, but I am a woman nonetheless. I would prefer a room to myself.' She tilted her chin back so that the elf could have a better look at her features.

'My most humble apologies, my lady. We seldom get any travelers at all let alone those of a gentler nature, and I assumed that to be the case. I shall see to a room for you immediately.' He bowed in apology and led the rest of the company to their quarters. Meta trailed behind not knowing what else to do.

Finally she was shown to a room a short distance from the others. It had a lovely balcony that opened out over one of the deep ravines. She stood and took in deep invigorating breaths of the soft fragrant air. It was good to be back. What would happen if she stopped here? It only took her a moment to remember why she and her mother had left so long ago. While Rivendell could be lovely for a few years, after awhile the eternity of the place began to wear on one's nerves. She was used to an active life. The peace of Rivendell was best experienced in small doses, at least for her.

Freshly bathed and clad in clean clothes for the first time in ages, Meta worked her way to the dining hall. Elrond had invited the group to a welcoming dinner. Meta hoped they would at least try to be polite. She didn't hold out much hope.

Half the company was there before her. She wandered over to a table with Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Bilbo. 'So, what do you think of Rivendell?' she asked them.

Bombur was busily filling his plate with bread and butter but took the time to nod happily and say, 'Could be worse!'

Bifur paused in his investigation of the salad greens. 'The room is nice and clean. Too bad you decided we weren't worthy of your presence,' he said with a mild leer.

Bofur kicked him under the table. 'Mind your manners, you lout.' He smiled at Meta. 'I must admit, it is a bit different from what I imagined. I always thought Elves stood around singing and playing music all day.'

'They do sometimes, but they work also. Someone must make the food and mend the clothes after all. It isn't done by magic!' She smiled at him. He really was the nicest of the bunch.

'I love it!' said Bilbo. 'I always dreamed of seeing it and here I am!' The little hobbit's head kept swiveling this way and that trying to take in all of Rivendell.

'How do you know so much about Elves, Meta?' Bifur asked. 'Why did Elrond welcome you back?'

Meta used the arrival of a trio of musicians to ignore the questions. 'See Bofur, here is the music!' She clapped her hands. Waiters brought platters of food and goblets of wine. Mouths were used for other things than asking uncomfortable questions at least for a short time.

After dinner, the room gradually emptied of the dwarf contingent. Meta was enjoying the music so much that she didn't even notice. Bofur chose to stay also. Although he wasn't a huge fan of the music, he was learning a lot by watching the elves' technique and listening to the way they sang their songs. It was very different from anything he did himself.

Thorin and Gandalf were sharing a table with Elrond. Thorin had managed to remain on good terms throughout the evening especially after Elrond gave him the good news about his new sword, Orcrist. Nothing made a dwarf happier than a fine weapon and this one sounded very promising.

'When did Meta join your company, Thorin? I have not seen her for many years,' Elrond asked innocently.

Thorin's head jerked up from his dessert and his eyes narrowed. 'Meta? What do you know of Meta?'

Elrond looked puzzled. 'I thought she would have told you. She was born and raised here.'

Thorin turned and glared at Meta. Her head was back and she was laughing loudly at something Bofur had said. She held a large glass of wine in her hand. Visions of another laughing dwarf-woman flashed through his mind. 'No, she didn't tell me. I know almost nothing about her. Perhaps you can fill me in?' he asked darkly.

Elrond sensed the anger building in his guest. 'I will leave that to her. She may have her reasons for not speaking. It is not my place to tell another's tale.'

Thorin ground his teeth but did not pursue the matter. There would be time for that later.

Meta had a wonderful time. She loved Elvish music, Elvish food, Elvish air and especially Elvish wine. When she finally left the table, Bofur had to put out a steadying hand as she rose. 'Oops, perhaps I shouldn't have had that last glass,' she giggled.

Bofur stood as well and kept the hand on her elbow. 'It does seem right powerful. Those Elves know a thing or two about grapes,' he agreed.

'My amad never let me have more than one glass, and now I think I know why.' For some reason the floor seemed a bit more uneven than it had earlier. She took a tentative step and then another. 'I'll have to mention to Elrond about this floor. It needs work.' She giggled again.

'I imagine it will be fixed by morning, Meta,' Bofur smiled to see her this way. She was usually so serious and controlled. It was good to know there was a little bit of reckless dwarf in there after all.

'Alright. I'll wait 'til then to complain.' She began to hum one of the tunes that were being played. 'Do you want to go swimming, Bofur? I want to go swimming!' She tried to spin in a circle but his hand was in the way.

'No swimming for you, Meta. You need to go to bed and get some rest.' He began to lead her back towards the wing where their rooms were.

'Spoilsport,' she taunted but followed his guiding hand.

After some minor detours as Meta poked into random corners, they finally reached the right passageway. 'This is your room, isn't it?' he asked outside a door.

'Yes, but are you sure you don't want to go swimming? I know the perfect place!' She tried to tug him back down the hall.

'Some other time, Meta, when you feel better.' He loved the idea of swimming with her but thought it might lead to more trouble than it was worth.

'But I feel wonderful! Like I could fly with the birds or run faster than the fastest pony.' She managed to break free of his hand and began to spin around. 'Oops, that probably wasn't a good idea.' She grabbed onto a statue in a niche to regain her balance. 'The floor here is all wrong too.'

Bofur took her arm again and led her through the door to her room. 'Your bed is where you need to be now, Meta. In the morning the floors will be all better I guarantee it.' He pulled back the bed covers and sat her down. 'Do you need anything else?'

Meta smiled up at him. 'A kiss. Give me a kiss. Just a little one, Bofur. I know you want to.' She tilted her face up to his and winked.

Nothing would please Bofur more than to kiss the little minx, but not when she was in this condition. 'Not tonight, my dear. If and when I kiss you, I want you to remember every minute of it.' He bowed and retreated from the room before things got even more complicated.

'Spoilsport,' she said again to the empty air. She got up and changed into the nightdress and robe the elves had thoughtfully provided. Walking over to the doors to the balcony she went out and admired the night. The moon swam through thin clouds and the sounds of the night seemed amplified in her ears.

'I still want to go swimming!' she told the moon. She worked her way across the floor and found her way out the door. Now that she wasn't trying to spin in circles, navigating was a little easier. Eventually she made her way to the long-remembered pool. It was enclosed on all sides by a thick hedge. The pool glimmered in the moonlight as she shed her clothes and entered the water. She swam a few lengths back and forth but found it a little lonely all by herself. Out of the water, she put on her now damp nightgown and robe and wandered back toward the building that housed her room.

Before she got there she found an inviting padded bench that attracted her attention. She lay down on it and began to hum one of Bofur's tunes that so easily got stuck in one's head. The stars glittered brightly overhead just for her.

'Are you alright, Meta?' a deep voice asked.

She opened her eyes to find Thorin peering down at her. 'Right as rain, Thorin couldn't be better. Had a little extra wine, but other than that I'm fine.' She laughed gleefully.

He sat in a nearby chair and leaned forward. 'Why didn't you tell me you were born here, Meta?'

Having sobered up slightly from her swim, she was able to answer the difficult question. 'Gandalf warned me about using an Elvish name for my pony. I didn't think you would react very well to me being born in Rivendell. And besides, I never dreamed we would end up here. I figured you would avoid it like the plague.'

'Fair enough, but how did a dwarf come to be born and raised in Rivendell? You have to admit it is a little unusual.'

Meta pushed her hands into the soft cushion and struggled to sit up. 'It's a really long story. I don't think I'm in any condition to do it justice right now.'

Thorin reached out to help her up, but as he did so, her robe slipped down leaving the upper part of her chest by the shoulder blade visible. He stared at the mark that was exposed. His mind slipped back a hundred years. 'What's this, Frer? It looks like a little crown!' Brin leaned over and kissed his birthmark and traced it with her fingers. He felt a shiver run down his spine. 'What is that mark, Meta? The one on your shoulder.'

'That? It's a birthmark. My mother always said it was the only thing my father left me. He had one just like it.' She pulled the robe up and covered it. 'Do you want to go swimming with me? The water is quite divine!'

'No, no, I think I will pass on the swim.' His head was spinning but there was one last question to ask. 'What was his name, Meta? Who was your father?'

'His name was Frer. Frer, son of Fror. He disappeared before I was born, and I never ever met him.' She plopped back down on the bench and began to hum another tune. 'I really do wish someone wanted to go swimming.'

Thorin tried his best to control his emotions. They threatened to overwhelm him. Meta was his daughter! A daughter he never knew he had. No wonder she had seemed so familiar at times. Oh, Brin, how could this have happened? He wanted to ask Meta a thousand questions, but he knew she was still at least a little drunk. There would be time later. Right now he needed to be alone with his thoughts.

'Goodnight, Meta. Perhaps we can go swimming tomorrow,' Thorin patted her shoulder and turned to leave.

'Alright. But it really is a beautiful pool,' her voice murmured behind him.

Balin went looking for Thorin later that evening. There were a few things he wanted to ask the elves for if Thorin approved. He finally found his friend tucked away in an alcove with several empty bottles of wine and another almost gone.

'What are you doing, Thorin? You never drink to excess!' Balin was stunned by his lack of control.

Thorin managed a tiny smile through the alcoholic haze. 'Do you 'member all those years ago, Balish? After 'ol Thrain took a hike?' he slurred.

Balin frowned. 'What are you talking about, Thorin? Of course I remember. Probably better than you right now.'

'What did I have you and D'lin do for me? Do you 'member? Besides lookin' for me da?' Thorin tipped the bottle up and drained a good portion of it down his throat. 'Do you?'

Balin rubbed his hand across his eyes and down his face as he thought back to those hectic days. Thorin had returned home from a trip to find chaos. His father had left on some silly quest to fight Smaug. They had sent out search parties and messages to the far corners of Middle-earth to try and find Thrain. But wasn't there something else? It flitted across the edge of memory. Eventually, they had always asked about someone else, too. 'Brin. You kept looking for someone named Brin.'

Balin's memory surfaced and raced back. Thorin had been frantic to find the dwarf-woman he had met on a trip to the far North. Balin remembered the pain of loss on his friend's face for months on end. To lose your Only One to death was terrible. To lose her to the unknown was unthinkable. 'What brought all that back, Thorin. It has been a hundred years.'

Thorin drained the rest of the wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 'Those Elves do make good wine, Baldin.' He struggled to focus his eyes. 'You never met my Brin, did you? She was my Only One you know. I always thought that was a bit silly. How can you only love one lil' dwarf forever? 'Til I met my Brin.' Thorin hiccupped. 'We ne'er looked here did we, Baldil. What dwarf would hide with Elves?'

Balin thought he saw where this was going. 'She was here? Is she still here? What are you talking about, Thorin? I would think you would be over the moon to have found her!'

'Nope, still didn' find her. My Brin. Lost forever. Found somethin' else though. I got a dawher, dawther, daughter!' He finally managed the word and smiled at Balin in triumph.

'What!' Balin cried. 'That isn't possible! How did such a thing happen?'

Thorin winked. 'The usual way, ma ol' fiend 'er, friend. When I got called home to hunt for Tran, Thrain, she didn't want me to leave. Kind of got out of control one afternoon.' His eyes got a happy look as he remembered that lovely day from long ago. 'Looks like I struck gold with only a few tries!' he giggled. Thorin Oakenshield actually giggled but then his eyes grew old and sad. 'I never saw her again, Bally. She never even knew who I really am.' The words seemed to sober him up quite a bit. He threw his wine bottle against a low wall and it shattered into myriad pieces that sparkled in the soft moonlight. 'No matter how hard I looked, I never found her!' He buried his face in his hands.

Balin stared at him. 'All this time, you had a child and you never knew it.' His mind was having a hard time grasping the thought. Dwarf children were as precious as gold to dwarves. To have one and not know it was unthinkable. Forgetting Thorin had claimed to have a daughter, he asked, 'Where is he?'

Thorin roared with laughter! 'That's another oddity, my friend. With all the male dwarves born each year you would expect that I would have a son, but no, I have a daughter! A little girl, well, not so little any more, of course.' The pride rang out in his voice as he contemplated that fact.

Balin wanted to slug him. 'But that doesn't tell me where she is, and where is Brin!' he shouted in exasperation.

Thorin focused his eyes on the yelling dwarf in front of him. 'Oh, right. Meta. Meta's my daughter. She doesn't know it, but she is. Saw the mark clear as day. Can't be anything else.' He sat with a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He had reproduced and with very little effort. Some couples took years to have a child and he did it in one afternoon.

'Meta is your daughter, you're certain?' Balin's head spun with all the difficulties this was going to cause not just today but far down the road. What about Fili and Kili? Where would they fit now? He shook his head to clear those thoughts away. Right now he had this so-called daughter to worry about.

Thorin leaned back against his chair and promptly passed out. He snored the happy snore of a drunk who would regret it in the morning. 'Come on, Thorin, wake up. You'll feel better in the morning if you sleep in a bed instead of that chair.'

Balin shook Thorin's shoulder and got him to his feet. Almost carrying his old friend, he staggered down the passage to the room assigned to Thorin and put him on the bed. Thorin settled in with a happy grunt of contentment. 'Daughter,' he muttered. 'Brin.'

Balin sighed as he closed the door. 'Quite a can of worms, Thorin, and that's putting it mildly.'

The next morning Balin almost laughed out loud when he caught sight of father and daughter. It was a good thing they were on opposite sides of the room because anyone who saw them side by side might notice the close similarities. Each held his or her head in respective hands. Each moaned silently and each kept eyes tightly closed against the morning light.

He offered Thorin coffee and a plate of food. The moaning grew louder. 'No food, thank you unless you would like to see it again very soon,' Thorin muttered. He put out an unsteady hand for the coffee. 'Damn the elves and damn their wine.'

Meta was only slightly better off. Bofur was the one to hand her coffee but knew better than to offer food right away. 'Wake up, sunshine,' he chirped.

'I hate you,' she said. 'Why do I feel so bad? I didn't have that much. I only had two or three glasses.'

Bofur laughter made her wince. 'Ah, but it is right powerful stuff, my dear, and I'm guessing you never drink much anyway.'

Meta cracked her eyes open. 'Only on birthdays and now, never again.' Her eyes closed again and her head sank back to her hands.

'Drink your coffee, Meta. It will make you feel better. I speak from experience.' Bofur pushed the mug as far under her nose as he could.

Remembering the way the B's had recovered in Bree, Meta picked up the mug and took a small sip. The scent wafted up her nose and into her brain. Slowly it woke further and decided it might want to live after all. A very small plate of eggs appeared next and she ate it a tiny bit at a time.

'Did we go swimming last night?' she asked. 'I seem to remember wanting to go but no one would.' She had a flash of cool water and a conversation about her birthmark but it quickly retreated back into the haze that was her mind.

Bofur said, 'You wanted to but I declined.' Even as he said the words he wondered what would have happened if he had accepted. 'It was for the best, Meta. You should never be alone with someone when you are drunk.'

She moaned again. Coffee or no, her head still ached. 'You're right, but it sounds even better now. If you'll excuse me, I think I will go again.' He noticed there was no second offer to join her.

'Have a nice time, Meta. Keep your head above the water!' he joked. She snarled something rude and wandered off to find her pool.

Thorin was not so lucky. The coffee had almost no effect and he thought he was about to die. He was rising to return to his room to lie back down when Balin said, 'We need to talk about last night, Thorin. It's too important to leave for very long.'

Thorin continued to retreat from the quiet noise of the dining hall. 'I am sure it can wait until I can think, Balin.' He ran his hand along the wall so that he could walk with his eyes mostly closed. Reaching his door, he opened it but turned before he entered. 'Remind me again what we talked about?' All he could remember was drinking a lot of wine and breaking a bottle.

Balin stared in disbelief. 'You really don't remember?'

'No,' was the terse reply. He had never had an axe implanted in his skull, but he knew now what it would feel like.

'I think I'll wait until you feel a bit better before I tell you.'

Without another word, Thorin went through the door and closed it ever so quietly, but it still sounded like the clanging of the great gates of Erebor.

Balin found Meta in her pool with her head resting on the side. Her eyes were closed but he sensed that she felt much better already. As his boot scraped on the ground, she slit her eyes open and sat up. 'Hello, Balin. What brings you to my little corner of paradise? The water is divine; you should join me!'

'My swimming days are over, Meta. Water is for bathing and drinking when there is no beer. I want to talk to you about last night.' Balin blushed as she rose a bit further out of the pool. Even though she was wearing a light tunic of some sort, it was still rather revealing. He noticed the birthmark on her shoulder right where Thorin's was. She was most definitely a relative of some sort. Only direct descendants of Durin bore that sign.

'I'm sorry I got drunk, Balin. It won't happen again. I misjudged the potency is all.' She sank back into the water wondering what the real problem was. Dwarves got drunk all the time from what she had seen and last night several of the others had been worse than she.

'That isn't it. Do you remember talking with Thorin at all?' he asked carefully.

She wrinkled her nose, closed her eyes and thought hard. 'Did I ask him to go swimming? I guess that was rather inappropriate. Other than that, I don't remember much. Bofur wouldn't go swimming either,' she pouted. 'And now you won't.'

Balin had to laugh. She sounded so disappointed he was almost tempted to jump in with her. Almost. 'Yes you asked him to go swimming, but that isn't a problem either. I can see you don't remember anything else so go back and enjoy your pool. We will be leaving in a few days and then I doubt there will many opportunities for swimming.'

She took a few lazy strokes and turned on to her back. 'You don't know what you're missing, Balin.'

Balin returned to Thorin's room after lunch. His friend was still in bed but now had a wet cloth resting on his forehead. He glared as Balin walked through the door. 'Say anything above a whisper and I will kill you,' he snarled softly.

'Let this be a lesson to you, Thorin. You may be able to drink all the beer in the world, but you can't hold your wine!' As a peace offering, he removed a small packet from a pocket and mixed it into a glass of water. 'Here, try this. Oin swears it will help.'

Eyeing the glass suspiciously, Thorin held it up to the light. 'What is it? Oin's remedies are sometimes worse than the disease.'

'Take it. It can't hurt and I need to talk to you.' Balin stood impatiently while Thorin drained the glass.

'Oh dear, that was terrible.' Thorin screwed up his face and tried to clear the sour taste from his mouth. Surprisingly, in a few minutes the pounding in his head faded from war drums to tambourines. 'What's so important, Balin? We don't leave for a few days and Elrond is tending to the supply list.'

'We need to talk about your daughter, Thorin, or has it all completely disappeared?'

A complex look of sad and happy flashed across his friend's face. 'No, I remember. At first I thought it was all a dream but enough has come back for me to be sure. Meta is my daughter,' Thorin replied. 'And hopefully Brin is still alive somewhere in Middle-earth. After all this time, it's hard to believe. A daughter, Balin! I have a daughter!' Thorin was not one to smile, but now his face was split with a wide grin. 'I can't wait to tell her and find out where Brin is!'

Balin put out a hand and laid it on Thorin's shoulder. 'Do you think that is the best idea? To tell Meta right now? We are starting out on a difficult journey. It may be too distracting for her and the company.'

'I don't understand, Balin. She's my child! She deserves to know. And what do you mean a distraction to the company? How is it any of their business?'

'Have you forgotten Fili and Kili, Thorin? Right now they are your heirs. If you so choose, Meta would take precedence over them should you ever regain your throne. As for the rest, I am not sure, but I worry it may have unforeseen consequences. There are still some who do not think Meta should be with us. Finding out she is your daughter could make things worse. I advise keeping this secret for a little longer,' Balin counseled.

'But what if she finds out some other way? She would hate me even more than she probably does now.' Thorin itched to find out more about Brin and he couldn't do that easily without telling Meta the truth.

Balin replied, 'No one else knows anything about Brin except for Dwalin, and I will make sure he doesn't say anything. I doubt he even remembers; it was so long ago. The only telltale is the birthmark and once we leave Rivendell, there will be no opportunity for swimming. The odds are against anyone seeing it and making the connection.'

'Fili and Kili would, Balin. They know all about the mark of Durin. If they should happen to see it…' his voice trailed off. 'I should tell her now, today.' He slid over to the edge of the bed and got slowly to his feet. His head still ached but he forced himself to move.

'You know very well that every descendent of Durin has that mark in some form or another. Most are not like the ruling families', but they have it. They would merely think she was from some other branch. After all, the whole company is of the line of Durin in some way or another except for Bofur, Bifur and Bombur. We all bear at least a trace of the mark.' Balin's mark was exactly where Meta's and Thorin's were, but it was only a round black spot, not the exquisite crown they bore.

'But I also want to know where Brin is and how she is doing. It would be hard to ask those kinds of questions without giving a reason,' Thorin cried out.

He wanted to drop everything and race to his long-lost love's side and Balin knew it. He also knew that there was a deadline to reenter Erebor that did not allow for side trips. 'According to what the elf said last night, there is no time for that if you want to use the key, Thorin. Brin can wait a few more months and Meta can too. Regain your throne or find out it is lost for good before you do anything else,' Balin said.

'I hear the reason in your words, Balin, but my heart tells me you are wrong.'

'No I am not. There is also the unity of the company to think of. We are only now gaining the kind of trust necessary for such a venture. If we disrupt that now, I don't know if we would recover. Have patience and I believe it will all turn out for the best in the end,' Balin continued to state his case.

Thorin still hesitated. He had waited a long time for Brin, but he realized that he had waited for Erebor even longer.

Balin sensed his friend's mood. 'You must choose, Thorin: The chance to regain Erebor is now and that might not happen again for years. Or throw it away to chase someone who will still be there in a few months time.'

Thorin closed his eyes and groaned. 'Very well, for good or evil I choose Erebor. I only hope I do not live to regret it.

'Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive" Sir Walter Scott I suspect Thorin may indeed come to regret this in a bit! Stay tuned.