Author's Note: BONJOUR!

I'm officially back :D Paris was amazing and I had a fantastic time but my poor feet still ache from the amount of walking I did and I've come back with a cold and cough thanks to the freezing cold weather and the bastards that I've been around who've given it to me :(

First week back (last week) I was so busy with getting sketchbooks hurriedly completed for assessment. Now at college we're starting our Final Major Project which will determine our end of year grades and I need a Distinction to get into the university that I want so it'll be hard work at college from now on. Heard back from my other applications and they both want me for interviews - one being the most prestigious Fashion Design university in England. I'm feeling a little smug about that.

Been staring at this chapter over the past few days because my brain was initially struggling on deciding which chapter to write and getting back into the flow of fanfiction writing. It evaded me at first but then this happened. It's more about the dialogue than a real plot but I know that Bookman wanted to know what happened after Durin's Day so that sort of prompted this chapter in the end.

Nearly at 20K views guys :D and I've nearly gotten 100 favourites so thank you so very much!

Khuzdul words are in bold italics and 10 points to whoever knows them. If not, a translation will be at the end.

*Pre-Hobbit Chapter*

Fíli: 60 years old (18)
Iarí: 58 years old (17)
Kíli: 55 years old (16)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OC - writing for fun not for profit

Iarí's name is pronounced ( EYE-ARE-REE )

THIS CHAPTER IS RATED T
(language)


"She slapped you?" Kíli asked his brother incredulously, his dark brows rising.

"Aye," Fíli grumbled, unconsciously rubbing the side of his face where the faint red outline of her fingers still marked his cheek.

They sat perched on the boulders in the corner of the training grounds, watching as the new years batch of recruits, all just barely past thirty years old, trickled into the fields. They had all been excited and eager entering the arena to begin their first day of training but looking around the grounds now, wide-eyed at all the mass of burly, bearded and battle-scarred warriors, some looked pale and nervous, as if they would faint, but not before pissing themselves first.

After the long celebrations of Durin's Day all the warriors were nursing some degree of hangover so, delaying the days training, they crowded around to watch the little dwarflings in their induction; making bets as to which one would cry first, which one would run home to mommy and which one showed the most promise.

It was one of the brothers' favourite past times.

"I'm surprised she only slapped you," Kíli chuckled and cracking a grin much to his brother's annoyance. "I would have at least expected a broken nose… or a knee to the nads."

"Kíli, you're not helping."

"I'm just saying," He smirked. "You got to admit that just a slap is a little underwhelming for her. I'd say you were pretty lucky."

Fíli grimaced. Iarí wasn't one to be afraid of using her fists. He could have had much worse than a red mark on his cheek.

"Why did she even slap you?" Kíli continued with his interrogation, having missed out on the seemingly dramatic fall out last night between his brother and friend. "What did you do?"

"I stepped in when that butcher's son looked like he was going to kiss her. She stormed off, I went after her, words were exchanged and next thing I know, she slaps me." Fíli huffed; slightly annoyed that Kíli assumed it was his fault even though he was obviously the victim here.

"Words were exchanged?"

Fíli opened his mouth to retort his brother's skeptical response, but was sidetracked from his answer when his eye spotted a figure entering the grounds alongside the large frame that was Dwalin. Her dark hair weaved into a loose two-strand braid hanging over her shoulder and fastened with a suede ribbon. The sleeveless vest she wore was of soft brown leather, laying over the top of a long sleeved woollen tunic the colour of topaz, and strapped around the waist, highlighting the female curves of her form. The tunic was cut low, the neckline running along the tops of her breasts; the pale mounds pushed upwards from the tightness of the vest that bound her. Beneath she wore her dark suede trousers, tight like a second skin around her legs with her heavy fur-lined boots on her feet. Her sword lay slung across her back in its sheath as she strode beside Dwalin, her eyes stern and unyielding as she criticised the pack of dwarfling recruits in front of her, their gazes darting back and forth between the master-of-arms and herself in awe.

Fíli stared at her, his mouth still open to answer his brother. As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked up to where the brothers sat, her eyes locking with Fíli's and narrowing into a glare. She was apparently still very angry with him.

"I don't know, Kili." Fíli groaned, averting his eyes from the burning intensity of Iarí's glare and rubbing his face with his hands. "I can't remember exactly what I said. I got so drunk afterwards I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning."

"Well you obviously said something that pissed her off enough to cause bodily harm." Kíli murmured, watching his friend as Dwalin said something to her in low tones. Iarí nodded before approaching the first of the dwarflings who had assembled into a long line.

"Name?" She ordered, her voice ringing clearly through the grounds as she stopped in front of the small lad. A scribe brought down from the libraries joined her, standing by her side with a long piece of parchment, quill and ink in hand, poised to write.

"Olim," The lad stated bravely without hesitation as Iarí bent down in front of him. "Son of Daggim."

"Your strongest arm, Olim?" She asked, the scribe at her side scratching the name onto the paper. He promptly stuck out his right for her to take, unflinching as she ran her hands along his arm, assessing the strength of the muscle. She repeated the motion for his left, before taking both his hands and feeling his fingers and grip. His chin was raised and unwavering as she inspected him but a betraying faint red hue stained his cheeks and he refused to meet her eye whilst she took note of the broadness of his frame.

"Warhammer," She stated as she stood, hearing a loud, proud cheer from a dwarf in the crowd of watching warriors; his father no doubt.

Fíli had been watching intently from the moment he had heard her voice, furrowing his brows and compressing his lips together as he tried to recall the details of their fight, but thinking back to the night all he could remember was the image of her dancing with the butcher's son.

"I might have said that she was disgracing herself," He murmured hesitantly, keeping his eyes on Iarí as she began inspecting the next recruit and avoiding the look his brother was giving him.

"That's not good," Kíli sighed.

"I was defending her honour!" Fíli retorted, feeling the need to defend himself. "The guy was a lecher! He had his hands all over her and was basically undressing her with his eyes! What was I supposed to do?"

"Fíli," Kíli chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Since when does Iarí need help with lechers? She could have quite easily taken care of him without you."

"She was drunk."

"So? She can still take care of them when she's drunk. Don't you remember that one lad-

"She was encouraging him."

"Well then maybe she liked him. She's probably pissed at you because you got in the way." He shrugged.

"She didn't like him." Fíli said resolutely.

"How do you know?" Kíli asked, cocking a brow.

"I just do."

At the adamant tone in Fíli's voice the brother's fell quiet, watching as Iarí made her way down the line, the scribe taking down the names of the dwarflings and noting down her suggestions of what weapon they may specialise in. When some wavered in front of her and stuttered their name with anxiety she asked them what they were afraid of. Some were nervous that they wouldn't get the weapons that they wanted. Others were worried that they would disappoint their fathers. A couple of the smaller ones had told her, in no louder than a whisper, that they had heard rumours that she was actually a she-wolf in dwarven skin, which brought a smile to her face and forced laughter from her lips, lightening her dark mood a little.

"Okay," Kíli said, returning to their conversation. "What did you say to her exactly before she slapped you?"

Fíli licked his lips, his brows scrunching together as he focused, trying to clear the hazy memory.

"That I was her friend… and that I didn't want her looking like a whore." He said, repeating the words.

Kíli struck his arm.

"What?!" Fíli cried, recoiling from his brother. "What did I do?"

"No fucking wonder she slapped you!" Kíli whispered through clenched teeth, aware of the sudden attention from a few nearby dwarves that Fíli had drawn to them with his exclamation. "You called her a whore, you dumbass!"

"No I didn't! I said that I didn't want her being perceived as a whore." He promptly corrected in the same hushed tone.

"That's still calling her a whore!"

Fíli opened his mouth to argue, but closed it, suddenly finding the clarity and logic in what his brother was saying.

"Durin's beard brother," Kíli sighed exasperatedly before smirking and chuckling. "Can't believe she only slapped you."

Fíli's eyes flickered back to Iarí who was halfway through the line and approaching a rather proud looking dwarfling, his chin already bearing fine dark hairs unlike the rest of the relatively beardless recruits.

"Name?"

"Bartak, son of Balak." He stated, eyeing her with a look akin to distaste and an arrogant undertone in his voice, thrusting out his left arm before she even voiced the request. Iarí ignored his behaviour and began her assessment. The muscles of his biceps were strong but his grip was weaker in comparison.

"Spear." She said, standing and beginning to move on. He had the strength in his arm for deep piercing thrusts and the lack of grip would allow for impressive spins and swipes to his foes. With time and training the dwarfling could become very deadly with a double edge.

"No."

The stern exclamation caused the dwarflings nearby to gasp at the defiance. A few dwarves from the crowd chuckled heartily. Iarí continued on to the next recruit, who was looking up at her unsurely with his eyes darting back and forth between her and the previous dwarfling, Bartak.

"Name?-

"Oi! I won't fight with some poncey, wimpy ass spear!" He yelled irately, turning red in the face, his hands in fists by his sides as he shouted like a spoilt brat. "I want a warhammer!"

"You're not suited for a warhammer." Iarí retorted coolly, without so much a turn of her head. Excitement bubbled within the crowd and a few bets were placed.

"What would you know, you're a bloody woman!" He shouted, crossing his arms over his chest; challenging.

"How very clever of you to notice," She quipped, taking the arm of the dwarfling that stood in front of her and proceeding his assessment without his name. "Tell me, was it my breasts that gave it away?"

"Change it to warhammer!" Bartak demanded, turning from Iarí and approaching the scribe with his finger pointed. Before he could take another step towards the shying scribe a hand fisted around the scruff of his tunic and lifted him off the ground.

"Back into line, little pup." Iarí ordered as she plopped him back in his place. The dwarfling staggered as he righted himself, glaring up at her.

"I want a warhammer! I've been training!"

"Wrong, you've been training wrong." She snapped, her patience with the dwarfling wearing thin. She could feel Fíli's stare and it was beginning to bear down on her. She didn't want to be there, she had wanted to stay locked in her room, curled in her bed crying over her broken heart like she had been all night, but Dwalin had asked her to do the inductions and she wasn't willing to let her mentor down. "You have the strength, little pup, but not the grip. If we put a warhammer in your hands, it'll fly out of your grasp on the first swing and would endanger the dwarves fighting around you."

"But-

"Shazara, Bartak son of Balak, before I send you home to your mother." She snarled at the flustered recruit, effectively ending the little one's protests. She kept her eyes locked on the young dwarf until he yielded, averting his scowl in defeat, before returning to the next recruit.

"Name, little one?" She asked in a softer tone, trying to return the peace and not scare the others.

"Halar, son of Dwallar, Miss." The dwarfling replied, standing slightly straighter and inclining his head a little in respect. Iarí had to smile.

"You shall start with twin axes, Halar."

"Okay, so what do I do to make it right?" Fíli asked, turning back to Kíli now that the confrontation was over.

"I don't know Fíli, I tend to avoid pissing off she-dwarves." Kíli smirked. "And you just so happened to insult the only one that wields a blade."

"She can't hate me forever can she?" Fíli sighed, leaning his elbows on his knee and running his hands over his hair, groaning. The prospect of Iarí never talking to him again, never smiling at him, never laughing with him, it felt like an anvil on his chest.

"We're dwarves brother, I'm pretty sure she could if she wanted." He replied, chuckling and rubbing his hand along his dark rugged stubble.

"Could you talk to her for me?" Fíli asked, looking to his brother with beseeching eyes. Kíli's expression was one akin to as if Fíli had just asked him to jump into a pit of Wargs.

"Why can't you? You're the one that pissed her off!"

"Exactly!" Fíli grinned, nudging his brother gently. "She's not mad at you."

Kíli narrowed his eyes but conceded that it was probably the best course of action. If Iarí was angry with Fíli, she wouldn't want to talk to him and she wouldn't want him anywhere near her. If he tried to approach her and talk to her when she's not ready to listen then it would just exacerbate the situation that they had gotten themselves into. Kíli, being a neutral party, was more likely to come back from an attempt of a reconciliation unharmed. He jumped down from his perch beside his brother on the boulder, looking back over his shoulder to see Fíli's worried gaze watching Iarí attentively, looking as if he were trying to solve a riddle, his chin resting on his knuckles as he leant forward eagerly on his knees.

"Anthen, son of Indden." He heard the recruit in front of Iarí answer as he approached her with a broad grin on his face. She glanced up at up him as he neared, resisting the urge to smile in return at his playful demeanour. Sometimes she hated Kíli for ruining her bad moods.

"I see you got those braids out."

"Yeah," He replied running his hand through his shaggy locks. "Thank you for that."

"Well I thought you looked beautiful." She grinned in return at his sarcasm, before turning to the scribe and telling him 'axe'.

"My hair smelt like flowers."

"Manly," She teased causing the little recruit in front of her to giggle a little before clamping his lips together.

"I had to have two baths this morning," Kíli grumbled for effect, making Iarí smile.

"How terrible." She cooed, looking up at him and pouting her bottom lip before returning to her work. Fíli watched them from the boulder, too far away that he couldn't hear what they were saying unless they raised their voices, but he could see the easy smiles being exchanged between them.

"There it is." Kíli said, commenting on her smile. "You looked so damn serious."

"Induction is a serious business." She quipped, cocking a brow and rising to her feet. "And you're distracting me."

Kíli shuffled uncomfortably, unsure how to broach the tender subject of his brooding brother, of which Iarí noticed, having already guessed why he had approached her.

"I'm not mad at you, Kíli." She sighed before gritting her teeth, trying to be careful not to take her anger out on him. "Just your coward of a brother."

"He wants to apologize." He said softly, watching her cautiously and noticing her jaw tighten and her eyes narrowing slightly as her eyes unwillingly flickered to the blonde brother.

"Then why doesn't he apologise to me himself?" She asked through gritted her teeth.

"Would you hear him out?" Kíli countered, inclining his head to the side so that she'd look up at him, offering a knowing smile when she didn't answer. "Besides I think he's terrified of approaching you whilst you're armed right now."

"And what does he want to apologize for exactly?" She asked seriously. She didn't want an empty apology if he didn't know what he'd done to upset her. Not that he'd ever know the real reason that she was so upset, but she thought that she at least deserved a sincere apology for a reason that could at least be valid.

"Everything," Kíli answered without hesitation. Iarí scoffed, already unsatisfied with the vagueness before Kíli had the chance to elaborate. "For insulting you, for being a dumb asshole and for basically ruining your night."

Iarí, her assessment momentarily forgotten, looked to the ground stubbornly with her mind ticking over. A part of her blamed herself. Fíli hadn't known that she was in love with him. He hadn't known, and maybe if he had, if he did know, then things would have been different. The stupid dwarf didn't know that she had felt so utterly betrayed when she overheard that he had bought pleasure. That she felt disgusted with herself for being so damn envious of the whore that had been with him. He didn't know, so she wondered if she had any real right to be so angry and wrathful with him.

"You know he didn't mean what he said." Kíli said softly, stepping closer to her and lowering his voice from the prying ears of the dwarflings that were watching them with curiosity. "He feels ashamed about the entire thing."

"And so he should." She snapped quietly. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dwalin watching them carefully, his arms crossed over his giant warhammer, reminding her of the job she was in the middle of.

"Can you forgive him?" Kíli asked as she stepped towards the next recruit. "I'm not saying you have to immediately. You can take as much time you want about it." He added, holding up his palms in defensive at the fierce look she shot him. "I'm just asking if you can."

"Maybe." She sighed stubbornly, praying that eventually her heart would heal, and maybe when it did she could be content with just being Fíli's friend again and nothing more. "Eventually…" She hoped "If he deserves it."

"Name?" She requested, turning away from Kíli.

Fíli watched in tense anticipation as his brother returned to him without a smile on his face. "Well?"

"I think you really hurt her, brother." Kíli sighed as he plonked down next to him causing Fíli to grimace.

"Well then what do I do about it?" He asked, his face falling and becoming disheartened. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

"I suggest you beg."


Author's Note: Femaleminds can be so complicated sometimes.

The dwarfling induction was a spur of the moment idea that I wanted to run in the back - that they'd be given an initial weapon to try out based on strength and form and then they'd try out different weapons to see which suited them the most, or that they handled the best. They're not forcing a weapon on them, it's merely a suggestion at first but it's usually the right instinct. Iarí doesn't usually do this, she's normally beside the brothers but Dwalin's got a raging hangover and she's just avoiding Fíli and trying to keep herself busy.

Iarí's outfit in this chapter is actually quite significant. The cut is lower, the fit is tighter, it's a lot more blatantly feminine. Before she would wear borderline boys clothes in the grounds (much to her mother's dismay) (occasionally wearing dresses when it was warm weather because it's cooler) because she sort of wanted to fit in more and be accepted as a warrior. Now, approaching 60 and coming out of puberty, she's becoming a lot more brazen about her sexuality, showing off being a woman rather than hiding it.

Right, swearing. In the past chapters I've been umming and ahhing about whether or not such expletives would exist in Middle Earth particularly the 'f word'. You should know by now from my Author's Notes that I have absolutely no reserve with my swears and sometimes they would swear in my head (not as much as I do) but sometimes the f word would slip into an angry statement and I'd have to stop and ponder. Yes they'd have their Khuzdul curses but after some research having found out that it can be originated to latin so I assume it was used and spoken in the Anglo-Saxon and Middle Ages eras so yeah, I've decided that fuck in Middle Earth exists. They won't be swearing as much as me though, thank fuck.

(If you're somehow offended then you really shouldn't be reading an M rated fanfiction. Just saying.)

There's always that one fucking asshole of a child that you want to just slap. (I'm not fond of children this age unless they're adorable.) Being around 30 they're about 9/10 ish in human years. In my head she did initially berate him more, embarrassed him cos she's pissed off and maybe threatened him a little but then I thought Nah, it'd be neither noble or honorable to scare and threaten children in dwarven society no matter how much of little shits they are.

I watched Centurion recently because I saw some edits on Tumblr for it and I felt so conflicted because on one hand I was rooting for the Romans but then I was also rooting for Etain who is such a delicious bamf. Etain would definitely be Iarí's idol.

Fanfic recommendation: Go read Debts Repaid by crayonboxromance. I love it. It's light hearted, has loads of references within it and the narrative has me laughing so hard sometimes. And for extra brownie points it's a Fili fic !

Shazara -Silence

Thank you so much for reading! Review and let me know what you think x