Kili had not really expected his brother to wake him when he returned that night – or that Fili would return in anything like time to wake him before morning anyway – so he was more than a little surprised to be shaken suddenly out of a deep sleep and dreams of long roads and orc battles to find himself staring into the bright side of a lantern.

"What now?" he gasped, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes from the light.

Fili turned the lantern away. "Brother, I am married," he said.

"About damn time, too," Kili muttered. "To Betta, I hope?"

"What? Of course, to Betta! Who else would it be?" Fili sputtered in amazement, but Kili was already laughing at his brother's outrage and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Very well, then, laugh if you want to," Fili said, "but our uncle will not laugh when he finds out."

"No, but if you want my advice, waking him from a sound sleep and making sure that there is no axe is nearby…" He saw the look on his brother's face and shrugged his shoulders. Thorin would not like it, but Kili was glad that Fili had finally made up his mind and sworn his oath to Betta. It would save Kili himself a lot of trouble in the future to have them both decided.

"Oh! And I have news for you, Fili!" Kili exclaimed. He repeated all that Thorin had said regarding the quest to regain Erebor, the small company disguised as merchants, the plan to scout out the mountains and go on toward the Iron Hills, and also that it had finally been decided: Fili and Kili would join their uncle's company. It was finished. They were going.

Fili sank down onto his bed, his expression wavering between eagerness and disbelief. Hadn't their uncle offered and taken back his permission once already? There was still a chance that he might change his mind, but still… "It is decided," Fili murmured. "We will go. We will go!" He cried, striking his fist against his knee. This time there would be no change in their uncle's mind. He would not give Thorin the chance.

"When?"

"No later than June of this year," Kili told him. "Probably sooner. He has been making plans for an army, so it should not take long to fit up a dozen wagons for thirty dwarves. I would guess that most of the dwarves that Thorin would choose are already here. You and I, Gloin and Oin, Balin, and Dwalin, of course…"

"I am not so sure about…" Fili caught himself before he could betray Frei's confidence. "About the road," he put in quickly. "Why go all the way south to the Gap? Why not take the northern road?"

"I asked that as well," Kili said, nodding. "Thorin remembers our tale of orcs and snow-trolls. He knows that if he wants to go in secret that is not the way to do it. The passes through Hithaeglir are too dangerous for a wagon train, so it is the Gap or nothing."

Fili nodded. If he had planned the journey, that is what he would have said. "No later than June," he repeated thoughtfully. "I promised Betta that I would tell her as soon as I knew the day."

"You do not know the day yet. Besides, you can tell her the next time that you see her. It is too late for you to go back tonight. You need a few hours' sleep at least! Starting tomorrow, Thorin wants us both down in the training hall. No more mine-work for you. He wants us strong and ready for the journey."

Fili nodded again, but he also laughed. "How much more ready can we be? We survived the north, and greater perils there than any dwarf has faced for a generation. But do not worry, brother, I do not mean to slip away again tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough." He looked down at his hands, at the soot still staining the fingernails and the scrap from an errant pickaxe. They were the marks of hard work, but not the battle wounds that he wished to earn. He looked up at his brother's anxious face and laughed out loud. "We are going to Erebor, Kili!" he cried. "Ai-mênu! We are going!"

Before Kili could react, Fili had thrown himself across the room onto his brother in his bed, laughing and wrestling with him playfully. "This will be a quest so much greater than Betta's. And think of the tales that we shall have to tell her when we have come home! We will have seen a whole part of the world that she has never known. I only wish that she could see it with us."

Kili laughed had pushed his brother out of the bed. "She may see it one day," he said. "If we succeed in reclaiming the mountain, you will send for her surely? And you will have had months and months to figure out how to break the news to our uncle. Who knows but that the dragon's hoard will soften his mood and convince him to accept your happiness?" Kili gave his brother a suspicious glance. "You do mean to wait until after the quest to tell him?"

"I do," Fili assured him. "I will take no chances now. If he learned of her before we left…"

Kili nodded. "Good. I am glad that that is decided. But now, let me sleep, Fili. And go to sleep yourself! It is practically morning and I mean to meet you in the training hall immediately after breakfast."

Grinning, Fili blew out the lantern and took off his clothes. He wrapped himself up in the warm blankets on his bed but lay awake some time longer, still excited about Kili's news and worried over how his uncle would react when he was eventually told what Fili had done. Thorin would never celebrate Fili's oath to Betta, but at least his anger might be tempered with mercy. Surely, he would not disown his eldest nephew over it. Didn't the old tales tell that the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale had once been close allies and even, at times, hesitant friends? Betta was not a woman of Dale, but their marriage might be framed any way that Thorin pleased… perhaps as a sign of the return to old alliances? A symbol of trust between the two races.

Fili eventually fell to sleep thinking these and many other thoughts, but Kili was too tired to think at all. He had a long day behind him, and a longer day ahead. Fili had been too distracted by recent events and had neglected his sword. When they next met in the training hall, Kili hoped to catch him off his guard and knock him off his feet.

.

In fact, the next morning, Kili twice knocked his brother to the floor, but that was not the best news of the day: Frei had finally made her news official. She had spoken first to Thorin in his private rooms, and then, before the morning meal, Thorin had then stood by, smiling, while Dwalin proudly announced that his wife was with child.

Within an hour, the news had gone out through all of Ered Luin, being passed from mouth to ear, from the highest tower to the lowest tunnel down in the mines; almost before Kili was aware of it – he had missed the morning meal, being far too interested in catching an extra hour of sleep before training – he heard a dozen dwarfs saying that it was so. Wherever he went in the mountain, he heard the song of many voices, and as he walked into the Great Hall, he was met by the sound of dwarvish verse. Breakfast had been put away, but the long table was stacked high with huge barrels of ale. Every dwarf in the mountain had been invited to fill their cup and drink a toast to the soon-to-be child.

According to Durin tradition, Frei's own speech had been made to Thorin with only her immediate family in attendance. Fili must have been there, Kili thought, because he seemed the only one in the Great Hall who was not surprised by this news. Kili was surprised by the extent of the celebration. It was almost of royal proportions, but then, Dwalin was Thorin's good friend as well as his cousin, his closest kin in the mountains, besides Kili and Fili themselves. No one knew exactly what had passed between the two warriors on the slopes of Azanulbizar, but in recognize Dwalin's wife's good news, no expense had been spared.

Erebor was not mentioned that day, nor the quest, nor the long journey that was soon to come. Each dwarf's time was given to him as his own, and no work was done, not that day nor well into the next, but there were many young dwarves in the training hall working out their excitement on the wood and cloth dummies and on each other.

Fili exercised with his brother in that hall through most of the morning, but he was soon called away to be their family's representative in one of the smaller drinking halls and then at the homes of several families. From the grin on his face, Kili guessed that his brother was not so reluctant to perform this duty that his lineage required. Not that he had long to think on it; Kili's own friends soon drew him off to drink and sing to his heart's content in their own halls and rooms. Though few of them knew Frei as anything, Dwalin's name and strong arm were well known to any dwarf-lad who thought to take up the axe or hammer – a bruise left by Dwalin was not soon forgotten.

Kili did not know how Frei spent her day, but every hour or so, news was passed down along rumor's road. No name could be chosen for the child until the sex was certain, but by midday, all had heard that Dwalin wished his son to be called Farin, after his grandfather, and Frei was determined to name her daughter Fala. The midday meal was a relieved affair; many dwarves had been worried that Frei would insist upon some strange name from the Eastern lands, but her choice, though unusual, was not so very different from the Durin tradition that anyone would complain.

Underground, day and night were the same, and there was no break in the celebration when evening came and the sun went down. If anything, the floors shook with even louder song and ever more ale was called for. A great feast was laid out in the Great Hall for the close kin of the happy couple, but plenty of food and drink was sent down for the lower halls. No dwarf would go to bed with less than a full belly. Kili finally found his brother again, less soused than he expected, but still smiling.

"Where have you been, Fili?" he demanded, throwing his arm about his brother's neck. "Gani has been asking for you. He said that you promised to crush a cup with him."

"I may have," Fili admitted, "but I have broken enough mugs already today. He will be with his own family by now. Now, hush, Kili. She is on her way up."

Kili looked around and realized that most of the other dwarves in the Hall were much quieter and more sober than he was, in appearance if not in actual substance. He straightened up and looked around. She would be Frei, he had no doubt; the other wives were already in attendance, and of course Frei would make an entrance – it was her day, after all – but there seemed to be more ceremony going on than Kili had expected to find.

"What now?" he whispered. "I thought she made her speech this morning."

Fili shook his head. "Dwalin says there is a ceremony of the Blacklocks that she insists must be performed. I am not certain, but the Orocarni has never been well-settled. There are many more axe-maidens in the east. They are needed, and I think that this is their own custom."

Kili frowned. He knew that Frei was a fighter: she had fought at Azanulbizar, but that was long ago. Dwarves were dwarves, anyway. What new custom could it be?

At the far end of the Great Hall, standing beside his forefather's throne, Thorin looked anxious and uncomfortable. Dwalin was with him, speaking quietly to him, and Balin stood below the dais to one side. Of the three of them, Dwalin seemed the most at ease, and he smiled as he looked expectantly toward the large, front doors.

Kili looked at the closed doors, too. "What will they…?"

"Hush!"

There must have been some heralding sound that Kili missed, because the other dwarves who had been speaking quietly amongst themselves fell silent and turned toward the front of the hall. The wide, double doors were opened, and Kili looked on eagerly, expecting to see some elaborate procession, but it was only Frei who stood with a single dwarf-woman to attend her. A murmur of surprise and respect went up from the dwarf-men as they drew back and made a path for her down the middle of the Hall. Kili stared in open-mouthed bewilderment. Frei's clothes had always marked her out as a foreigner, but tonight she seemed to have stepped through the door straight out of the eastern lands.

Gone was the shawl that she wore about her waist to mimic the skirts that the Durin dwarf-women favored. Instead, she wore loose trousers sewn of fine leather and tucked into tall, heavy boots that any dwarf-warrior would have been proud to wear. In those shoes, one might walk miles over broken blades without feeling them. Frei's jerkin was likewise of fine leather, but the designs stamped upon it were strange and bore only the hint of a resemblance to those used by Durin's descendants. Still, it was Frei's mail shirt that caught his eye as she passed. It was not made of chain, no iron rings for a Blacklock axe-maiden; Frei's sleeves were built of many silver disks, each stamped like a small shield, and like a shield-wall they were laid against each other. Usually, Dwarven armor, even the best made, clinked and jingled as it moved, but Frei's armor made no sound. Indeed, no part of Frei's dress made any noise at all. She entered the hall and passed soundless through it as the dwarves of Ered Luin stared at her.

Kili stared at her. Her face was severe. Frei had always painted her eyes in a way that the Durin dwarf-women did not, but tonight her cheeks and forehead were lined with closely drawn runes. In thick, dark ink, a band had been drawn across her brow and two that went from below her fierce eyes to her chin, seeming to blend into the fine, black hair of her beard. Between the dark paint, her skin glowed like polished copper.

The paint reminded Kili of Dwalin's tattoos, even if his dye was permanent. The way that Frei had braided and piled her hair in a knot at the top of her head struck a cord as well. Didn't he have, Kili thought, stored among the earliest memories of his youth, the image of cousin Dwalin with his hair shorn away on either side and the rest raised up in a feathered crest over his forehead? But that was decades ago, before the last of his hair had fled from him, before the tattoos…

Frei passed by, and Kili turned to watch. She reached the end of the hall and stood before Thorin. She did not bow, and not a single dwarf in that Hall expected her to curtsey. Thorin's discomfort was palpable, but he had been instructed on his part. He stepped forward and did not flinch when Frei drew her sword. She knelt down and offered him the hilt.

"I cannot remember the last time that a dwarf-woman carried the axe and got married, too," Fror whispered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Kili looked around. He had not heard the old dwarf sneak up on him, but that was not unusual. Fror had a way of being where you least expected him, and always when you did not want him. "You know the meaning of this ceremony?" he asked.

Fror nodded. "In the old days, we had our own, I suppose, but these halls have been safe for many hundreds of years. When a female warriors marries or conceives a child, she must give up her axe… or, in this case, her sword. It is time for her to settle down." Fror scoffed. "But what dwarf-man would marry a fellow warrior?"

"It seems you now have an answer to that," Fili said, frowning.

Kili glanced at his brother and then ahead at Dwalin who was doing his best to look as serious as the occasion demanded, but he could not hide his happiness and pride.

Thorin took the sword from Frei's hand and, for a moment, he held it and looked with curiosity at the blade and carved hilt. There were a swords in Ered Luin, but none that were so thin or made of metal so black. The dwarves in the hall held their breath while Thorin held the sword, and even Kili could see the tension in Frei's frozen body. He could only guess what it must mean to her to hand over her sword to any dwarf. He might be her king in this land, but Kili knew that she had little love for Thorin Oakenshield.

The moment passed, and Thorin handed the weapon over to Dwalin who sheathed the scabbard that he held ready for it. Frei stood up again and bowed to Thorin and to Dwalin, who broke out into a wide grin. The assembled dwarves let out their collective breath. Frei stepped up beside her husband and faced the crowd. This seemed to be the end of the ceremony.

Thorin had relaxed as well, and he smiled. "Let us feast!" he roared, and the dwarves cheered. Deep mugs full of hot ale appeared as if by magic in many hands, and huge platters of food were passed along the table. There were too many to all be seated at the same time, but that was alright with them. Many preferred to walk about the room with their plates in their hands, laughing and talking together in one loud voice.

Frei and Dwalin disappeared into the crowd, and Fili, too, but Kili stood still for a moment longer, the image of Frei's strange, painted face hanging before his eyes until Gimli appeared at his elbow and pressed a mug into his hand.

"Well! That is not something you see every day. I am glad that I did not miss it," he said. "Come, cousin, you look famished!"

Kili allowed himself to be led away. He was far from starving – there had been more than enough food available throughout the day – but that did not stop him from filling his plate with the good meal that was laid out before him.

Of course, the feast, as it were, did not end with the meal, but at some point there were fewer dwarves at the table than there were standing, and some of the older, quieter dwarves had gone to their rest. Dwalin and Frei had reappeared, and line of well-wishers formed as each dwarf and dwarf-woman carried their congratulations to the expectant couple. Frei had washed the paint from her face and changed into her usual western garb with a colorful shawl, but the sight of her arrayed as for war would stay with the descendants of Durin for long years to come.

Kili watched the line of dwarves wind its way across the hall to speak with Frei. Fili went, too, and if his brother's best wishes were conveyed with more warmth than was usual, only Kili's sharp eyes seemed to notice. He had little time to wonder, however, as he found himself suddenly choking on a throat full of ale after Dwalin stepped up and slapped him suddenly and heartily on the back.

"There now," Dwalin said, wiping a happy tear from his eye while Kili's eyes teared up from the sharp burn of the ale that had found its way up his nose. "I have finally done right by her." Dwalin had had a great deal more to drink than was good for him; he leaned against Kili's shoulder and almost brought them both down. Frei looked at them and shook her head at her husband. Dwalin raised his mug to her, still laughing.

"Someday soon, Kili, you will have your own wife and child, and then you will know how good life can be!" he said.

"Not too soon, I hope," Kili gasped. Dwalin was not a small dwarf, and he had wrapped Kili up in a big, bear hug that nearly cracked his ribs. "Careful, cousin! I hope for many years yet to find my own joy, but if I am half as happy as you are, then I will count myself lucky."

"To each dwarf, his own heart burns with the hottest forge fire," Dwalin said, nodding sagely.

Kili was still puzzling over this bit of drunken wisdom when a loud cry brought Dwalin to his feet again. Thorin had arrived, and Dwalin let go of Kili to throw his arms around Thorin instead.

"Cousin!" Dwalin shouted. "You played your part well!"

"Well enough," Thorin agreed, "but it is over with now. This is our celebrated cousin – and Kili, too! – lurking in corners, lad? We must get up a tune and have a dance! How long has it been since these halls saw dancing?"

"Too long!" Dwalin cried, bringing up his mug so that half the ale landed on the floor and the other half in his mouth and beard. "My viol! Fetch my viol for me, Fror!"

"And my harp, too! And fiddles for my nephews," Thorin told old Fror who was always somewhere nearby. "Where is your brother, Kili? He must play with us tonight. Go and find Fili. No? Has he slipped away somewhere again? Haha! I am not fooled. He is down carousing with his friends from the mines. Well, let him be. This is a night for good fun for us all!"

Kili found that his comment was not needed. Gloin had appeared, and Thorin and Dwalin both cheered his arrival, turning away and seeming to forget him.

Kili had no intention of looking for his brother. He doubted very much that Fili was spending his night with the miners down below, but it was just as well. No one would miss him until well into the next day. The whole mountain was deep in celebration, and even the miners would need most of the morning to get their heads back on their shoulders. No work would be done until nearly noon, or perhaps not at all.

With a sigh, Kili searched the crowd for Frei and saw her near the back wall speaking to a pair of elderly dwarves who, it was said, had dwelt in the Blue Mountains even before Thrain had arrived. As much as he wished it, Kili knew that he could not neglect his duty to speak to Frei tonight. Ducking under one dancing couple and dodging around an overturned chair, he made his way towards her. He waited until Thrin and Barin had walked away and then stepped forward and bowed.

"My congratulations, cousin," he said, "and my good wishes to you and your husband."

Frei smiled. "We have had our differences, Kili," she said, not unkindly, "but I hope that tonight brings an end to them just as it brings an end to my hopes of joining you on your uncle's quest. Although he has had the good sense not to mention it to me, I expect you are glad to hear it."

Kili thought of the fierce fire in her eyes and the strength that she had shown as she walked into the Great Hall clad in her eastern armor. "If I am glad about that, then I am a fool," he said. "Your sword will be much needed by the company that goes east with Thorin, and now it must be sorely missed." Frei bowed to him.

"But if I may ask…" he went on, and hesitated until she nodded for him to continue. "The ceremony earlier… It seemed as if you have given up your sword, but that does not seem like you…"

She laughed. "No, it does not, and I would never give up that sword. It has been a friend to me through many dangers. No. Among my own folk, a warrior will only give up her weapon to her king and, rather than my husband, my king would have given it over to the care of one of my sister-soldiers. She would have looked after it until I had recovered from… well, from my current condition. In this western land, my blade must be put back up on the wall until my child is old enough to wield it in my stead."

Kili nodded, but Frei was no longer looking at him, or at the many dwarves celebrating around them. Her eyes looked ahead, into the future. A crash of noise that might have been music woke her from her reverie.

"Still," she said, looking over her shoulder as Thorin's make-shift band took up a lively tune, "you will have my husband's hammer to aid you on your journey." She turned back to Kili and added quietly, "I know that I am not wrong in trusting you to look after him."

"Of course!" Kili said. Frei nodded and she walked away, winding through the crowd toward the musicians. Kili watched her go. He craned his neck to look over the heads of the dwarves. He watched Dwalin muscle his way through the chorus of the ancient and entirely inappropriate Kalin and Koin Rode East into Khand. Kili laughed to himself and shook his head. Any dwarf who presumed to look after Dwalin in a fight would soon find himself left in the dust.

Well, did you miss me? I wrote most of this chapter with sore fingers from tearing apart fences and cleaning off beanpoles. It's amazing how much work you can put into a yard and when you're done, it still looks like a mess!

Hope you liked this chapter. Hope you review.

-Paint