A/N: Thought we'd make it up to you for missing the posting date on the last chapter.
TrippinOnLife: Thanks for joining us. :) I'm glad to hear you enjoyed Fiercer Than Fire.
Irishmadhatter3: I think we're dealing with a lot of factors. The Southron is operating under a different set of parameters, really. He's blinded by rage, of course, and thirst for revenge, but he's also coming from a culture more fixated on "just vengeance." He wants to wound equal to the amount he himself was wounded, and nothing short of what is depicted would suffice for him.
Taki-Sama101: Sorry for inflicting so much anxiety. It's very difficult to tell sometimes how readers will receive particular content, and we don't wish to upset. You have our personal assurance that no harm will come to the baby (trying not to be too spoiler-ish here, but ya know. I think it only fair to ease your distress in any way possible). Thanks for reading; we greatly appreciate your feedback. :)
Twelve
Dís closed her eyes with a sigh. Nothing was turning out the way it should have. Nothing. Her brother, her sons, her home. The throne. The stone.
"Lady Dís?"
Of course, it would be easier if he didn't sound so genuinely concerned.
"A headache, my lord," she responded. "Nothing more." She opened her eyes to look at Dain, whom she'd thought absorbed in Councilman Kairn's explanation of the supplies needed in the easternmost workshops. Kairn was frowning at his king, but Dain paid him no heed, his dark eyes on Dís.
"You're sure? I could have something brought-"
"I'm fine."
Honestly, she was torn between mistrust and flattery. It had been many long years since anyone had paid such attention to her.
"If there is anything you need, Princess - anything at all - I trust you know I am at your service." Dain's words seemed rather out of place in the stodgy meeting, but Dís nodded, producing the faintest of smiles.
"For that, you have my gratitude." If only it were true.
The councillors resumed their discussion, settling, at great length, the majority of the issues addressed. All but one, and it seemed appropriate it was saved for last.
The councilman who brought it up was younger, one Dís had learned was fiercely loyal to Dain, and desperate to rise in his favor. If Dís hadn't known better, she might have begun to make comparisons to her younger son.
"And what of those who question your right to rule, my king?" Councilman Frin made nebulous gestures with his hands that didn't really supplement his point. "There are those - even among the nobles, and especially amongst those who have come from outlying settlements - who murmur in the shadows that what was done was unnatural. Some bolder souls have dared used the word... usurpation. Oughtn't there to be some action against such talk, such... traitorous whisperings?"
There was a brief silence as Dain studied the young councilman, and Dís felt a chill. Those who were participating in 'traitorous whisperings' were the ones that were most likely to support her when it came down to it, and she couldn't afford either to lose them or to display her connection to them. Firebeards and Broadbeams from Ered Luin, Ironfists and Blacklocks from the far north. Many had heard the Mountain had been reclaimed, the last of the great Dwarf kingdoms. Their numbers grew slowly still, but those that were not from the Iron Hills tended to grumble. The name "Oakenshield" was not unknown, even to the farthest clans.
"I suppose something ought to be done," agreed Dain slowly, looking troubled.
"Perhaps," suggested Dís softly, and every eye turned on her, some suspicious, some otherwise, "they ought to be observed. Dealing with traitors is all well and good, but the Mountain needs workers if it is to thrive."
This was met with some amount of murmuring, though no one seemed confident enough to speak beyond that. There was some amount of risk in entering the discussion, and it was sufficient enough risk to make reluctant even those that had spoken boldly before.
After a moment's consideration, Dain nodded. "You are right, of course, my lady. However, the Mountain will need far more than workers if there is a revolt. For now, we will watch. We will take names of those in positions of authority who doubt my leadership, and see what comes of their 'whisperings.' Nothing less than swift action will serve if the trickle of disloyalty becomes a torrent."
Dís felt a chill crawling up her spine. This did not bode well at all. If Dain began weeding out those even marginally loyal to Thorin, there would be no hope for his restoration to the throne. Still, this move might be repurposed... if turned by the most capable of hands.
At length, the meeting came to an end. Mostly, Dís thought, because no one could concentrate on the topic at hand (which she couldn't recall at the moment). Standing, she smoothed her heavy skirts. Though she could sense Dain behind her, the dwarrowdam didn't turn to look at him. She wanted to visit Óin, but knew she didn't dare. Not right now. In fact, with two members of the Company remaining in the Mountain, she couldn't risk contacting either of them. They would be under the greatest suspicion, and she didn't-
"My lady."
Dís sighed inwardly. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I would speak with you. Privately." Dain's voice was low, as though he didn't want to risk being overheard. She paused and glanced back at him, feeling another little chill.
"About what, my king?"
"I will explain."
That left little room for argument, and Dís reluctantly nodded. Perhaps he suspected something. Perhaps he meant to test her. That thought quickened her pulse, and she did her best to maintain a calm exterior.
Dain waited until the room had cleared before turning to Dís. Something had changed in his face, in his bearing. It was softer now, more relaxed. There was the hint of a smile hiding behind his beard. Dís wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or afraid.
"It was a difficult thing, I know," Dain said at last, "watching your brother go. A difficult, but necessary act. Your loyalty to me in this time, Princess, has been a great boon. Know that I do not take it for granted."
Loyalty to him. The words galled her, but she kept her expression as neutral as possible.
"I'm sure what I did was only what any of us would have. I understand politics better than I would like to, at times." Dís bowed her head slightly, and began to turn away, testing to see if the king had finished. By the way he lurched to his feet, she assumed that he hadn't.
"It's... more than that. Your loyalty has moved me, deeply, and I... wanted to express my gratitude. Properly."
Dain fingered one of his braids and studied a wall hanging as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. He looked almost nervous, in spite of his generally grim and grizzled appearance, and Dís recalled their conversation before the coronation. Thorin's reaction had been jealously protective and appreciated, but the dwarrowdam hadn't forgotten the way both options had appealed to her. Nor could she honestly say she was entirely set against him now. Did she trust him? Of course not. But that didn't mean she disliked his attentions.
"Would you consider... and you must know I won't take offense if you want to think on it first. But would you consider becoming my consort?"
Dís studied his features carefully. He was serious. When was he anything but? The motivation behind the invitation, though, that was far less clear. Was there genuine fondness for her behind the benefit it would be to have Thrain's daughter as his consort? Would it matter if there were?
"Give me some time, my king. It is a weighty decision, as you imply, and one not to be made after a mere moment's consideration. Know, however, that I am deeply honored, and see the wisdom in such an arrangement."
Dain nodded gravely and, to her surprise, bowed. Since his ascension to the throne, the dwarf had been as lordly as anyone could have expected. More so, if truth be told, and likely because he needed to assert himself as the rightful king before more of Thorin's kin from Ered Luin joined them. He wouldn't have the advantage of numbers forever.
That train of thought slowed as Dís watched him move toward the door. Was it possible that there was more to his actions than a simple hunger for power and dislike of the other races? She didn't much like Thorin's One, but the little halfling had proven herself admirably during her escape, and had shown no fear, when a lesser creature might have. Still, love could make one stupid.
With a shake of her head, the dwarrowdam stroked her short beard and followed her king. In time, she told herself, things would settle out, and Thorin would take the throne again.
Dís entered her chambers and shut the door behind her, collapsing against it with a sigh.
"Everything alright, milady?" Nikû's low voice drifted around the partition. The loyal bodyguard had been waiting for her mistress's return, no doubt busying herself with the sketches for her latest forge project, as she often did in the absence of her charge. Two knives she'd recently made hung from sturdy sheaths on each side of her belt, matched blades with triangular hilts.
"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances," Dís replied finally. "Put some tea on for me, if you would."
Dís was pleased to see Nikû had kept the fire up, and after she had changed out of her formal attire, she reclined on the velvet-upholstered settee before the hearth, seemingly contemplating the pattern in the rug at her feet.
At length, the kettle began to whistle, breaking the dwarrowdam from her thoughts. Nikû fetched cups and prepared the tea in silence.
Consort. The idea was distressing to say the least. Thorin would think it a betrayal of the first degree. Sharing the bed of the one who had usurped her brother, standing at his side, united, tacitly enforcing his every decree, supporting his claim to the throne. And yet, she could think of no way to more fully earn his trust. It was a dilemma, to be sure.
"There is something wrong, Princess, and not just the usual. What's happened?" Nikû pressed a mug into Dís's hands, looking on with obvious concern.
Dís shook her head slightly, gripping the mug tightly enough that the earthenware handle squeaked in protest.
"The best way to serve is to betray, and the price of denial might be that I cannot serve as well - what if in denying betrayal, I deny the throne?" Without any of the incriminating details, which she dared not speak aloud, even here, the problem was only all the more overwhelming. Dís groaned into her mug. Nikû watched her mistress quietly, seeming to take her time in processing the question. Her strong, burn-scarred fingers traced the blunted pommel of one of her knives.
"And what sparked this, milady?"
"The king," answered Dís heavily, "has asked for my... consent."
"Consent?" Nikû sounded faintly alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"His consort. He wishes me to be his consort." Dís frowned into the fire, looking ever so much like her brother.
"That's absurd!" Nikû exploded, then lowered her gaze and bowed apologetically, despite the fact that Dís's back was to her, and thus the gesture went unnoticed. "Begging your pardon, of course, but what can he mean by that? After what he did... to your royal brother. And your own son. The kingdom would be better served if he were your consort, not the other way around."
Dís winced. All the things she couldn't say in one breath from her most trusted confidant. Not that she would have expected anything different from her friend. Who was to tell her that servants couldn't be friends to those they served?
"I believe his request is... sincere. I don't have a good reason to refuse."
"Don't have a good-" Nikû sounded fit to explode again. Dís turned to look at her bodyguard in time to stop her blurting out the rest of the thought she could see forming on Nikû's lips.
Nikû turned away with a sigh. "It's just... not proper of him, that's all."
Dis took a sip of her tea, then set the cup down. "I think I will be the judge of that." A long silence ensued, during which Nikû stared contritely at the floor, aware she'd gone too far. At length, Dis stood. "The quiet grates at me. I will spend the evening in the forge."
"But you've only just retired. I thought you'd be-"
"Overthinking is what exhausts me. By comparison, the work of my hands is light."
Nikû hesitated a moment, then nodded. Dís stood, aware that her bodyguard was likely going to follow her. She needed time, but she didn't want to allow idle hands to interfere.
"My tools." She would work on something familiar. Something comforting. Something-
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Lady Dís?"
She stopped. If the dwarf had been in sight, she might have hit him.
"What is it?" Her tone was controlled, but that didn't minimize her desire to inflict pain on the interloper.
"I bring news. A message from Ered Luin."
Dís paused, her anger momentarily put aside. "What message?"
"May I... may I come in? The message isn't a seemly one to shout, Princess."
"Very well."
Nikû greeted the newcomer warily, fingers curled over her sword belt. Dís searched the face, but couldn't recall ever having met the dwarf who stood before her, a thinly-bearded, red-haired youngling too scrawny to fill the clothes he was wearing. He bowed courteously.
"Milady, I- my news is not precisely from Ered Luin. I have come from there. A company of fifty, mostly tradesman. On our way here, though, a few leagues off the main gates, we found something that concerned us, considering the news that greeted us upon arriving here." Under the watchful eye of Nikû, the dwarf removed his pack and produced from it a tattered, rust-blotched cloak. "The design of this trim is-"
"Thorin's." Dís said quietly, reaching for the garment.
The youth tensed. "We knew it was Ereborian, but..." Dís didn't seem to hear him. She took the cloak between her hands, feeling her heart begin to sink. Torn, blood-stained and ragged, it certainly didn't bode well for the garment's owner.
"Did you find anything else?" she asked, voice soft, but firm. "Packs, weapons, footprints?" She had to know. If her brother was in danger, she would have to do something about it, and quickly.
"If there were footprints, they've since been erased by wind and rain, I guess." The youth sighed, looking very troubled. "I beg your pardon if this seems... insensitive, but... my father was one of your brother's Company. Glóin. I was wondering if you know whether he remained here or... followed the king in his banishment. The soldiers I've asked won't speak of it, and the workers seem afraid." The dwarf ran a hand through his thin beard. "Nothing is as it was when the messages came from Erebor requesting tradesman- it's... it's all wrong."
Dís hesitated only a moment. "Glóin went with the others. Your uncle remained, however. You might find him in the healers' hall." For the moment, she could sympathize with the lad's situation. This was hardly what such a young thing could be expected to deal with alone. "Tread lightly, my young friend. Those who remain loyal to the king in his exile are being carefully watched, and not many of those eyes are friendly."
"Milady," the lad bowed again, his face set determinedly, "I'm afraid my father must be in the same danger as your brother. If you are going to look for the king, I beg you to let me come with you. I know I'm young, but my father has taught me well."
"There will be no search. Not right now." Dís hoped the pain in her heart didn't show in her face. She couldn't afford to betray her loyalties. But if she hid them and her brother died, to what end would it be? What would she gain, would anyone gain, from her hard work?
"You can't mean that!" The youth stared aghast at her, and Dís felt a stab of shame. "What of our kin?"
"Hold your tongue, young'un," warned Nikû, and the youngster fell silent again.
Queen of Ered Luin, sister of the King of Erebor, mother to his heirs. Powerless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. No. She would not stand idle. Even if Thorin was beyond her reach, she would act, and she would do her best for the dwarves of Erebor.
"What is your name, lad?"
"Gimlí, son of Glóin, ma'am."
"Gimlí, I can't afford to leave Lord Dain unwatched. Therefore I charge you with the task of finding my royal brother and his companions." She kept her voice low, and beckoned him closer. "Nikû, this will require stealth, and a knowledge of Erebor I'm afraid our young friend lacks. See that he is equipped and accompanied to Laketown. With luck, the hobbit will still be there."
Nikû lifted an eyebrow, and Dís smiled grimly. "Not tonight. Two days hence. Possibly three. You will know when."
"You... you accept?" Dain swallowed, and for a moment his hard exterior crumbled to reveal surprise. Dis nodded, and after a moment's hesitation, Dain took her hand. Though the gesture felt stilted, it was clear he was making an attempt at tenderness. "Milady, you honor me. I did not think..." He trailed off, looking a bit lost, as if he didn't know what to say now, or how to act. Foreign territory, this romantic stuff. "I held out little hope you would."
"It has been... a long time since any showed such concern for me." Dís' answer wasn't strictly true, and it wasn't hard to let a little self-consciousness into her tone. Vulnerability had never been an impression she cultivated, and she wasn't going to belabor it now. "I considered your suit and I believe you mean more than political gain from it." With a faint smile, she clasped his hand, just firmly enough to let him know she saw him as her equal.
Dain was still too overwhelmed to form an appropriate response, but his expression was one of gratitude. "We should... celebrate. This is wonderful news." Dís wondered dryly if his son would think the same.
Dís managed a genuine smile. "Nothing extravagant is needed, my lord. You have been more than kind already."
"Nonsense," Dain said, returning the smile. It seemed, somehow, odd on his face. Not to say unpleasant, but definitely odd. "For my future queen - Thrain's daughter - nothing is too extravagant. Leave the preparations to me."
Dís nodded slowly, as though reluctantly acceding. "I am... honored."
As Dain turned away and ordered the preparations for a feast, Dís relaxed inwardly. He would be occupied for a good while, she thought. Perhaps that occupation would be with her, but Gimli and Nikû would be free to find and rescue, or avenge, her brother.
"Lady Dís." Dain was looking at her again, and Dís refocused her attention on him. "You have made me... very happy." He was struggling for words once more. It was sort of endearing, how hard he was trying for her. "I would like to return the favor. Is there anything I can grant you? Anything in my power?"
Dís felt a thrill. Anything in his power. Now, though, didn't seemed like a best time to ask for what she truly wanted. For now, she gave him as warm a smile as she could manage.
"Hold your promise, my lord. I desire nothing of you, and wish only..." she hesitated, and looked away, unable to completely bury the desire to see her kin safe once more. "I wish only prosperity for my people."
"As befits a queen-to-be. My lady..." Dain dipped his head a little, the dangling ornaments of the raven crown her brother had forged clanking behind his head. He'd added additional pieces to it after Thorin's banishment so as to put his own mark on it, but it seemed rather out of keeping with his normal practicality. Nor did it fit him particularly well, looking slightly too tight, and ill-proportioned to his face. She wasn't certain why she was taking notice of this now.
"I shall return to my chambers, my king, by your leave," she said, bowing in turn. "I have a few preparations of my own to make, looking onward to our future together."
What she was actually looking forward to was a triumphal return.
Dís pumped the bellows of the small forge mercilessly, one gloved hand steady on the cool end of the silver bar she was heating. Already, she knew her face and arms were soot-blackened, but she wore the forge's mark with pride. It was better than the alternative. For the past two days, Dain had been putting the whole Mountain into a tizzy, preparing for a celebration she thought both extravagant and unnecessary. Still, he was distracted, and that was the point.
"My lady."
At first, she feared the voice belonged to Dain. He had no right to invade the peace of her forge! She turned, the glowing silver bar in her gloved hand poised like a weapon. Nikû lifted an eyebrow at the apparent threat, and Dís felt a twinge of embarrassment.
"Yes? What is it?" The attempt at casual briskness didn't entirely fail, and Nikû seemed to know better than to say anything about it.
"Everything is ready. Did you wish to send a message?" The guard inclined her head slightly. Dís turned the silver over in her hands, thinking.
"Yes, but you must memorize it, for I'll not risk a letter." Dís entrusted them with a brief message to her brother, and was satisfied when both were able to repeat it to her verbatim. It was cryptic enough that if by some misfortune they were waylaid and it was forced out of them, her plans would not be undone, and at the same time, it would tell Thorin all he needed to know.
All this was, of course, assuming he yet lived. If her brother was dead, and her eldest son with him... then she didn't know where she would go from there.
"Take care you do not say too much when questioned by Dain's guards. You have your pretext, and that is all they need to know."
Nikû knew well enough how to proceed. It was this youngling she worried about. "If you are not able to discover the whereabouts of my brother and those loyal to him... I advise you to return to my halls in the Blue Mountains. If, in four weeks' time, you have not returned, I will send further instruction there."
Nikû bowed and glanced at Gimli. Their things were stashed somewhere, no doubt, and they would be gone by supper. As her handmaid and the youngling turned away, Dís worked the bellows again, resting her cooling silver in the glowing embers.
"Pump the bellows, lads, cut the stone," she sang softly to herself.
"Heat metal, leather, wood and bone.
Bring from earth what fire can find,
form the world with hand and mind."
