Well! Firstly WOW! I was not expecting such a wonderful response to my 'make a character' idea! You guys are awesome! There were so many great ideas that I had a really hard time choosing which characters to pick though I finally settled on two, a rival and a friend.
I picked Lisse Mirelien's character Lady Misa as the friend and Emilyx's character Amrlin as a Rival! BUT I am seriously debating throwing in a few more of your characters in the future because I REALLY loved them all! I'm super pumped to have got such a great reaction too!
Just going to quickly reply to a few things from chapter 9:
Shayran16: We will be seeing Fili and Kili at the banquet (next half of the banquet more specifically) though more Kili than Fili.
Guest: This is a ThorinxOC fic... but I never said which OC! *evil cackling in the distance*
THE WALKING sexy AMC: Those pesky kittens! I figure I can have a bit of liberty with Dain's personality because he isn't a character seen much in the book and we can only speculate on how he will be in the film (though yeah, he was a butt) - I hope you don't mind my version too much XD Excuse me while I go and google that picture!
Borys68: I'm pretty sure Dain is going to intentionally terrorise her, it's certainly more fun that way! Thanks for your continuing support with the story!
SwanInProgress: Wow you are lovely!
Hobbsy3: Many thanks! I'm really glad you gave my story a chance and that you're liking it! Yeah, I wish I had a Brúin too!
So yes! Thanks again for all your contributions on the last 'chapter' and hopefully I can do something again to give you guys a chance to get involved with the story! Please review/favourite/follow as you see fit and above all enjoy!
Chapter 10
"You know a smile wouldn't hurt." My brother says as he drops back to walk with me some way behind my mother, father and sister. I cannot deny that I am dragging my feet, not quite as eager as the rest of my family to reach the banquet hall.
"Am I not smiling?" I ask, rolling my eyes. Brúin snorts and offers me his arm, which I accept after a moment.
He is looking rather dashing today since mother has managed to force him into some more formal attire and despite his protests I can tell he will enjoy the attention it gets him - he does have my good looks, after all.
We are wearing similar colours, as always, though his are of a darker shade. Where I am wearing crimson – he is wearing maroon, the colour of dried blood. The tunic is a good fit on him too, exaggerating his already large muscles and showing off a scandalous amount of dark chest hair. A thick belt studded with rubies and a dark gold, almost brown overcoat finish off his outfit.
"It's more of a grimace," Brúin tells me, patting my arm. I make an effort to smooth out my features but fail miserably as the doors of the banquet hall become visible at the end of the vaulted walkway. "Tell me what ails you sister – surely you're not still worried about your little incident with his Majesty?"
"I don't know what's wrong with me Brúin!" I grumble as I rub the side of my face. I have to be careful not to disrupt the braids my mother and sister fashioned earlier. They're much more intricate than I'm used to, intertwining my facial hair into the thick plaits that frame my face and twisting around towards the back of my head. There are garnets woven into the thick strands and I can feel their coldness against my skull – the whole mess feels a lot heavier than usual, unbalanced, as if I might tip over at any moment.
"I could make a list?" My brother suggests, attempting humour. "Though I'm not sure where we'd get that much paper."
"I only mean that I'm not usually like this." I say. I feel nervous, ill almost. I shake my head and pull back a little more, letting a young Lady and Lord pass round us on their way to the dinner.
"Ha! Of course you are, little sister! Though Mahal only knows why." Brúin tells me. His laugh bounces off the walls and I see my mother look back over her shoulder. She frowns, then motions hurriedly for us to catch up – apparently we must all enter together, and the three of them have almost reached the grand doors. Brúin either doesn't see her, or ignores her – I suspect the latter.
"What are you talking about?" I frown.
"Do you remember when Lord Killan's son – what was his name? Tillan? Tilmar? That's it! Lord Tilmar pulled your braid from behind, and you span round and blacked his eye without even thinking about it?" Brúin reminds me.
"Aye…" I mutter, to let him know I haven't forgotten. My cheeks heat up just at the mention of it, which of course makes my brother chuckle. "What of it?"
"Well you were embarrassed then too! You cried, if I recall – oof!" I elbow him in the side, but he carries on. "- and wouldn't leave your quarters for a good week, thinking he hated you!"
"Yes Brúin, what is the point of all this?" I ask. It comes out sounding snappish to my ears, and I sigh, not wanting to upset him.
"My point, little sister, is that he still forgave you." Brúin says. "And you didn't die of humiliation, even when mother found out."
"But Tilmar wasn't King under the Mountain," I reason. "He was just a minor Lord and when mother did find out she was furious!"
"Father wasn't." Brúin grins widely.
My father had actually been quite proud. Apparently one of his friends, a guard at the time, had seen the punch and told him how impressive it had been – to see a boy twice my weight and a hand taller than me floored in a single hit.
"Mother got over it, as she always does," Brúin said, shrugging. "You really do place too much weight on her opinion, and fathers."
"That is easy for you to say, brother. You are their heir and only boy child. You get away with more than Trúin and I put together – there is no wrong you can do that will taint you in our parents eyes." I grumble.
Brúin is silent for a moment, pondering this. I start to think that our conversation is over because we are fast approaching the rest of our family, and will soon be within earshot but apparently he has one last thing to say to me.
"Perhaps you are right," He admits slowly, then sighs. "But Rúin please, do not worry so much on what they think of you. You are wonderful as you are, I would not change you for the world – And if it makes you feel any better I will personally make sure Thorin Oakenshield doesn't sneak up behind you and pull your hair!"
"Will you two hurry up?" My father rumbles, cutting off any reply I can make. Not that I would have known what to say anyway since my brother is rarely sentimental. "Mahal knows your mother is impatient enough!"
"Apologies father, Rúin and I were having a very deep and meaningful discussion," Brúin explains, giving me a conspiratal wink as we come to a stop beside mother, father and Trúin. "-about which of us can eat the most tonight."
"Absolutely not!" Mother cuts in immediately with a face like thunder. "I will not have a repeat of Lord Gorin's winter ball!"
I smirk at the memory, which earns me a furious glare. I don't know why she is so angry, when it comes to eating there is no contest between my brother and I - he is a monster.
"You are both to behave as a young Lord and Lady should," Mother continues firmly. "You will sit nicely, speak politely and not throw food across the table at each other – do I make myself clear?"
"Come now Yutte, they are not children anymore." My father says unexpectedly. Even Brúin raises his eyebrows a little – my father is not known for speaking up against my mother.
"Of course they are not Dalkin!" Mother agrees, waving dismissively. "Which makes it all the more embarrassing when they act like they are! Best behaviour, you two."
"Yes mother." Brúin and I say in tandem. My mother gives a satisfied nod and turns on her heel, stalking towards the short line that has formed in front of the wide doors. The rest of my family trail after her, Brúin and I at the back.
The line moves swiftly and soon enough we are standing within the impressive hall in which the banquet is being held. I tilt my head up, letting out a low whistle of appreciation for the carved ceiling. It's etched with various swirling patterns, each grooved line filled with gold that makes it look waves on a shimmering ocean.
"Don't start that again," Brúin warns from beside me, taking hold of my elbow and jerking me forwards so that I can't sight see. "Just curtsey and we can go find our seats."
"Curtsey? What-" I clamp my mouth shut as I'm bought face to face with Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. I swallow nervously, feeling very much like a startled deer. On my left Brúin is bowing, and I see Trúin begin her own curtsey which I hurriedly copy, dropping my eyes down from the dark stare.
"Lord Dalkin, Lady Yutte," A steward says behind the King. "And their children: Lord Brúin, Lady Trúin and Lady Rúin."
We all rise from our respective bows and receive a nod from his Majesty. Kili grins at me from his place beside his brother and even Lord Dain – who is standing beside His Majesty – gives me a smile. I blink stupidly, trying to avoid the gaze of the King under the Mountain till Brúin starts to move off and I gratefully follow.
"You could have warned me!" I hiss as we move away out of earshot, following behind a server who I assume is leading us to our seats.
"And take away the surprise?" Brúin chuckles.
I grumble to myself, cross at my brother but also grateful. The greeting was so short and unexpected that I didn't have time to work myself up about it and it was over before I'd really had time to register what was going on. I wonder if he knew about the royal greeting beforehand or merely spotted it before I did.
Brúin still has a guiding hand on my arm, so I allow myself to look around the grand hall, safe in the knowledge that I won't get too lost.
I've never been in here before – my father tells me that it is used almost exclusively for royal functions, holiday celebrations and similar important events. It's certainly impressive enough. Smaller than the main dining hall in the lower levels but much more grand, with two columns of three cylindrical pillars at intervals to support it. The pillars themselves are done in a similar style to the ceiling with lines running up and down their length which are filled in with gold.
At either end of the room are two imposing dwarven figures carved with their arms raised as if to keep the roof from falling. Between the legs of the closest is the door we have just walked through, and opposite, on the other side of the room another door stands open under the mirroring figure. I squint, but all I can see is inky darkness, which I assume means that that door leads out onto a lookout balcony or something similar.
"Looks like this is us." Brúin says as our guide comes to a stop before a large, circular table. There are already people seated and though I don't have any idea who they are I hear Brúin grumbling under his breath.
"Friends of yours?" I question.
"Hardly." Brúin mutters, waiting for mother and father to sit. I take a quick moment to look over the tables occupants.
There are two older women of my mother's age, sitting on the far side. One has chestnut coloured hair with the faintest traces of grey and the other a fiery red, styled in the most intricate design of knots and braids I have ever seen. Both are sporting thick beards that almost rival my fathers.
Beside the red haired Lady is a dwarf lad, younger than Brúin and myself, certainly, so I assume he is her son – he has the same flaming red hair as does the woman sitting on his other side, who can only be his sister. She is older, perhaps Trúin's age if not more so with an impressive collection of fine red hair covering the larger portion of her cheeks.
On the left hand side of the red haired dwarf woman is a young girl, no more than one hundred if I had to guess. She greatly resembles the brown haired dwarf Lady who is now conversing politely with my mother – her daughter surely, seated on this side of the table so that she might converse with the younger members.
Mother and Father are seated on the right hand side of the brown haired dwarrowdam, so Brúin takes his place next to father, followed by Trúin, leaving me the only other seat available next to the chocolate haired girl. I try not to look disappointed though I have been hoping to sit beside Brúin, knowing my evening would have been a bit more bearable with him by my side.
"Trúin, so lovely to see you!" The red haired woman says as my sister and I sit. I blink. I should have known that Trúin would have made friends since arriving in Erebor – we've been here just under two months now, so I've no doubt she knows almost everyone in this hall by sight, if not name.
"Amrlin, a pleasure as always." Trúin replies, an easy smile on her face as she returns the greeting.
"And this must be your younger sister! Why she's not nearly as bad as I thought she'd be, considering how she hides away all the time – a bit plain, but pretty enough," Amrlin says with a smile, talking about me as if I'm not even here. "Rune, was it?"
"Rúin, actually." I cut in, giving her my own smile in return. Though I don't think I have quite captured the simper as well as Lady Amrlin – perhaps I am showing too many teeth, a more predatory grin.
"Oh Amrlin, my dear you are quite mistaken," Trúin gives a laugh, a light airy sound which I couldn't make even if I wanted to. So they are not friends then. "Rúin does not 'hide away', as you put it – no, she just has less desire to deal with the more common folk that I am forced to be in company with."
The smile doesn't fall from Amrlin's face, but her eyes harden at the comment. Trúin is still smiling sweetly, though in a way that somehow manages to convey just who she considers common.
I groan inwardly – we've been seated for less than five minutes and it's already started.
One of the reasons I dislike my own noble class is that I can't stand to listen to all of them constantly trying to one-up each other with their cleverly disguised insults, backhanded compliments and thinly veiled disdain for one another – it is even worse now that they are all competing to impress the King. We dwarves are a prideful people at the worst of times, competition doesn't bode well for us.
I think I take after my father in this regard. Even Brúin will play along with court politics every once in a while – but my father has no interest in it whatsoever. He just ignores anyone trying to slight him. This of course is a much more effective way to handle such things – it deals a more damaging blow than a witty comeback because he simply turns away, mid-conversation, like it's not worth his time.
Father has a rather impressive not-to-be-messed-with aura which I have yet to master. I simply seem rude when I do it, so I have to settle with sarcastic retorts until I can cultivate his completely indifferent air.
"I don't see your father anywhere, Amrlin," Trúin says, glancing up towards where mother and father are seated. "Was he not invited?"
"Ha! Oh how amusing you are Trúin!" Amrlin says, though she doesn't look very amused in my opinion. "No, father had a very important business meeting to attend – oh it must be so nice to have a father who is just a blacksmith – It's frightfully tiring to be the daughter of such a successful merchant you know."
"Tiring indeed, perhaps you could benefit from some more beauty sleep?" My sister suggests, causing me to almost choke on my suppressed laughter. It is very rude to outright laugh in someone's face when they are insulted in this sneaky way – but sometimes it's hard to resist.
Amrlin gives my sister a cool smile then very deliberately turns away to talk to her brother, who Trúin later informs me is named Farlin. My sister also introduces me to the young girl on my right, who has been silently twisting the fabric of her dress between her fingers since we sat down.
"Lady Misa, this is my sister, Lady Rúin," Trúin says, motioning between the two of us. I smile, not knowing the correct way in which to greet the younger girl – I am starting to regret ignoring all of my mother's lessons. "Lady Misa is one of the members of my needlework class. She's very good."
Misa blushes slightly at the compliment, smiling shyly. "T-thank you, Lady Trúin."
She really is quite a timid creature, this dwarrowdam. A pretty young thing, dressed in a forest green dress and already sporting a good covering of facial hair. I find myself once again wondering why so many mothers seem to be putting such young ladies into competition for becoming queen. Not that I don't think they're deserving of the chance – but to pit them up against people like Amrlin – or Trúin, even, just seems foolish to me. Especially if they seem to be scared of their own shadow.
"Quite a talent," I say, smiling. "I've never been very good with sewing or the like."
"I-I'm sure you're.. you're very good." Lady Misa bobs, twisting her dress again.
"No, no, sadly I'm not," I chuckle, scratching the side of my head and almost dislodging one of the gems that is woven into my hair. "I can never get it to turn out right – I usually end up throwing my hoop across the room in a rage."
"Oh!" Misa says, putting a hand to her mouth to cover the smile, as if she is worried I will take offence at her amusement. I smirk to show I don't mind and receive a small grin back. Any further conversation however is halted when my sister places a hand on my arm and motions towards the top table where the royal party are seating themselves. I glance around quickly to see that all the other tables have filled since our arrival.
We're sitting to the right of the top table, closer to the balcony doors than the entrance and between two of the pillars, so we have quite a good view of the King and his family. Thorin sits, Dain on his left and Fili on his right – Kili drops down on Dain's other side, already looking around the grand hall for something interesting to distract him.
A hush falls over the room and a minute later the King under the Mountain gets to his feet to address the gathered nobles.
"My thanks to all of you for coming, it has been a long time since so many of my kinsmen sat together it this hall," He begins, giving each table a slow look over as he speaks, as if he is personally speaking to each person seated around him. "Ten years have passed since the dragon Smaug was killed and for ten years have I sat alone on the throne of Erebor."
His gaze sweeps over to our table, and I suddenly find my own eyes locked with his, dark and intense. Foolishly I feel a blush rise on my cheeks from his look – but he turns away a moment later and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in.
"But no longer – now I have need of a queen, and all of you have answered my summons," He continues. I frown at his peculiar use of wording, but have no time to dwell on it because his Majesty is not yet finished. "Please accept this meal as token of my thanks – eat, drink and enjoy yourselves. Tonight we celebrate!"
There is a round of cheering from all around, most notably at our table from my brother who cannot do anything quietly. I clap along with the others, though I cannot help the frown that creases my face – Does Thorin Oakenshield never smile? He may say that tonight is a night for celebration but he certainly does not seem to have any intention of enjoying himself.
There is no time to contemplate the constant bad mood of my King however, as at this moment dozens of servers enter the room, pushing silver carts laden with the most delicious smelling foods.
To our table they bring three different roasted birds, platters of glazed ribs and various cuts of meat which looks to be a mixture of goat and beef. These marvelous meats are followed by bowls of potatoes, carrots, peas, turnips and many others which soon coat the table so that barely any of the pale gold table cloth is showing.
"An' you, m'Lady?" a voice asks, distracting me from the tempting food being placed in front of me. I turn my head slightly to see a blue and silver clad server standing beside me with an expectant expression. I blink. "D'ya be wanting wine or ale?"
"Oh, ale, please." I say hurriedly, ignoring the glare I am surely going to receive from my mother at my choice – there is no way I am going to sit through this meal with nothing but wine to drink and I'm more than glad to have been given the option. Apparently the last two to be asked Lady Misa stammers out that she would like wine and the server relays the order to the dwarves in charge of beverages. Soon I have a brimming mug in my hand, which I sip gratefully.
By custom my father is the first to put food on his plate, being not only the oldest but also the most prominent member of our table. He of course has been to enough social functions to know that if he serves my mother first he gives her a certain level of respect at the table, making her the unofficial hostess.
It does not come as a surprise to any of us that he chooses to do so – playing host to a table of warring noblewomen is something no sane man would take on, my father is no exception. Once mothers plate is full we are all free to take what we like, and I waste no time in doing so, though I notice both Brúin and Lord Farlin helping their respective sister- if grudgingly on Brúin's half.
Soon I have a miniature feast of my own, my plate piled high with a bit of everything within my reach. I lick some of the honey glaze from the ribs off my fingers, sighing in contentment as the flavours hit my tongue – then pause.
"Would you like help, Misa?" I ask, forgoing the use of her title in the hopes of seeming more approachable. The young girl glances as me and reddens slightly, averting her gaze a second later.
"I thought to wait, until everyone else had finished getting theirs." She says quietly.
"I shouldn't bother, not with my brother around," I say conversationally as I take a great spoonful of mushrooms and deposit them on her plate, followed by several of the tasty ribs and a slab of goat meat. "He is never truly finished where food is concerned."
"I-I uh… I see." Misa says after a moment, then she pushes herself up slightly and plucks a chunk of bread from the closest basket, followed by various vegetables and several sausages till her plate has a modest pile of its own.
I take a swallow of ale and over the top of my mug I see my sister smile at me before returning to her meal. I frown – perhaps she thought I would just sit and watch the poor girl go hungry as Brúin engulfed all the food. I'm not that heartless.
The sound of music makes me pause for a moment to glance back over my shoulder and locate the source. The band however seems to be hidden away behind one of the pillars and from where I am sitting only a single dwarf with a drum is visible. I can make out the sound of fiddles, a common and well-loved instrument in dwarven music, along with several flutes and clarinets and a horn of some kind.
I return to my dinner, tearing the meat from a chicken leg with my fingers. Knives and forks are provided for the messiest of foods, but it is not impolite to eat with hands or to lick fingers – something for which I am often grateful. Though other races seem to find such table manners rude it is a sign of a good meal to be eaten without the use of cutlery, and of course it is expected that each guest will belch at least once to show appreciation.
"I am so looking forward to the dancing," Lady Amrlin pipes up after a few minutes, smiling as she daintily chews around a rib. "Aren't you, Trúin?"
"Certainly, it is always a highlight." My sister replies as I silently sag in my seat. Like most things I have no talent for dancing – put a sword in my hand and I can flow like water, but in a dress my feet turn to lead and my brain has no control over them. Luckily Lady Amrlin doesn't seem to notice my discomfort at the idea, her focus is on Trúin.
"That it is! And don't worry, I have no doubt you will be able to find a partner who can balance out those dainty elvish hands of yours!" Amrlin says politely as I shove a handful of mushrooms into my mouth to avoid speaking out of turn.
Trúin has a death grip on her spoon and I am worried that her decidedly un-elvish hands will warp the metal if she continues as she is. But with a mouthful of mushrooms I can do nothing but watch in impressed silence while she brings her anger under control and sets the slightly bent cutlery down.
"Your concern is touching my dear, but if you can convince someone to be your partner – with that cute little nose and slender figure of yours, I think I will manage just fine." Trúin replies, all smiles and sunshine again.
I swallow at the storm raging behind Amrlin's eyes.
It may seem juvenile in practice, but this childish brand of insult actually appears to work very well. I don't quite recall what mother said about the entire thing but it was something about undermining your opponent, sizing them up and then publicly crushing them like a grape. Usually not all in one sitting but over a longer period of time – which I hope means I won't have to stop my sister from throwing herself across the table to claw Amrlin's eyes out.
"Th-the band is quite – quite good!" Misa says beside me, drawing more attention than I think she meant to. Both Trúin and Amrlin turn steely gazes on her before returning to their verbal sparring match, I alone seize the chance for less tiring conversation.
"It's a shame we can't see them from here. Do you play any instruments, Lady Misa?" I question though regret it a moment later when the young dwarrowdam begins to blush again.
"Well I-I-I sing.. a-a little!" She squeaks, poking at the remaining food on her plate. For such a small lass she certainly can eat! "And… and I can play the fiddle some.. and the harp."
"That is quite impressive Lady Misa." I say, trying not to embarrass her further – which is hard because even this simple comment makes her cheeks redden.
"D-do you? Play, that is?" She asks curiously, though still meek as a lamb.
"Me? Oh no, no though I'd like to," I say, cleaning the juices from my plate with a thick piece of soft bread. "I've never had much talent for music, sadly, though my brother is quite good on the fiddle himself, and Trúin too can play the harp."
"Do you sing?" Misa asked, wiping her hands on her napkin and pushing her plate away.
"Sing? Mahal no," I shake my head, the very thought making my chuckle. "I'm afraid I have little to no musical ability – my talents lie elsewhere."
"Oh?" The younger woman questions, glancing up the table at her mother who is still deep in conversation with my own. "D-do you mean f-fighting?"
"I suppose so, I can fight though I am more an archer." I say, shrugging as I too push my plate away. Brúin is still eating, clearing and refilling his plate in a steady rhythm that doesn't look like it will be ending soon – I almost roll my eyes.
"An archer?" Amrlin cuts in, eyebrows raised. "Why Trúin, you never mentioned your sister dabbled in such peculiar activities."
"In Nordinbad it is quite the sought after skill – to be able to kill an orc at three hundred paces is a valuable asset." I defend, perhaps not with the sharp reply that Trúin would have made but well enough. I don't like the way Amrlin keeps talk about me over my head as if I am a pawn to embarrass my sister with.
"Aye," Brúin rumbles around a mouthful of goat, which he swallows almost completely unchewed a moment later. It's the first time he has spoken since the food arrived. "An arrow between the eyes will stop an orc as surely as a sword through its gut – and Mahal knows I've seen her do that too!"
I smirk at my brother who has effectively destroyed any kind of insult Amrlin can make to me without bringing up the fact that she had no weapons training whatsoever. He is much better at this than I am.
"Shooting is not so hard." Lord Farlin comments for the first time, glancing at me with a look of disinterest before returning to his food. "Why I doubt she's even that good, I'm sure I could best her!"
My brother lets out a roaring laugh, slapping the table top for good measure at this comment which draws entirely too much attention to our table. My brother doesn't seem to care however, and instead continues to guffaw – much to the embarrassment of Lord Farlin.
"My sister was shooting before you were even a thought, boy," My brother replies after he has recovered from his bout of laughter. "You'd need another hundred years of practice and even then I doubt your odds."
Wisely Amrlin lays a commanding hand on her younger brothers arm, stopping him from making any comeback or attempting to hit Brúin across the table. Not that I expect he would get very far.
"A-are you really that good?" Misa asks from beside me.
I shrug my shoulder, unsure of how to answer after Brúin's praise of my skill. Anything I say now will sound like bragging, and that is more my brothers talent than mine. "Aye, well I can hold my own."
"Will you tell me about- about y-your adventures?" Misa questions hopefully.
Though I wouldn't consider any of mine and Brúin's escapades to be overly interesting I agree and allow Lady Misa to shyly question me about the time my brother and I got attacked by wargs during a trip with fathers trading caravan.
Misa is a particularly good audience, even going to far as to gasp when I mention Brúin receiving a bite from one of the beasts – which he helpfully proves by rolling up his sleeve to show the faded scars. So engrossed is Misa in my tale that she doesn't even notice when the servers come round to collect up the dinner plates. She even looks disappointed when I stop her so that I can fill my plate with dessert.
I fully intended to write the banquet as one chapter but didn't get as far as I wanted and decided to call it quits here! Sorry, sorry, I know you were all looking forward to some Thorin/Rúin interaction! Hope you all liked it and the addition of our new characters - You may have noticed that Amrlin is more Trúin's rival than Rúins, but I figured Rúin isn't really much of a threat to her at the moment so her focus is on Trúin atm.
Not much to say other than I hope you enjoyed it! Please review/favourite/follow as you see fit and keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter! Much love!