Hello my lovely readers. Thank you so much for all of the amazing reviews! They truly motivate me to keep going with this story. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble (mostly because I kept working on my other TWO Hobbit fanfics that I will post someday). Let me know what you think. We have a lot of Thorin in this one :)
Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me—it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Thorin's council watched with bated breath, their silence deafening within the chamber, as they waited for their king to respond to the charges laid against him. Brasi had been livid when he joined them at the table that morning – and for good cause. A rumor had been spreading through Erebor since before breakfast that Brasi had lost at least three of his holdings in Ered Luin seemingly overnight. Paired with the five losses in the previous week, it was no wonder that he was in such a mood.
But to bring such severe accusations with no evidence to the council chambers was very grave indeed.
"It is worse than I thought," growled Brasi after hearing news of the King's newest charitable efforts. "I had my suspicions from the start with the obvious favoritism our king has shown the girls, but to sink to this level… Is the line of Durin to be sullied with the Êthârul? "
Thorin knew exactly whom and what Brasi was referring to, but he did not let the anger swelling inside meet the stony expression on his face. This twisted dwarf dared to insult the Signi and her kin, to accuse the king of sullying his family line, all while his own daughter spent her nights in the arms of the criminal Stonehelm? Brasi's downfall could not come soon enough.
"Lord Brasi," Balin said sharply, a bushy eyebrow hooking in a clear reproach. "We have heard quite enough of this talk from you of late. May I remind you that the rules of the council stated that you are here to advise the king, not to make trivial accusation and threats?"
Brasi snorted with derision and sat back in his chair. "And what do your rules say Lord Balin about a king that refuses to follow the advice of his advisors? Or a king that makes decisions outside of the council's approval? Were you consulted about this little charity mission? What about you, Mikel? Did the king consult you before sending your daughter into the hotbed of filth and sickness in Dale? He certainly did not consult me."
"He's the bloody king," Dain roared. "He doesn't need your approval!"
Others seated at the table seemed to be in various states of agreement with this statement as they muttered amongst themselves. Thorin glared at each and every dissenter in the crowd, but made no move to silence them.
"King Thorin is not under any obligation to disclose his every decision to you or any other dwarf in his council," Mikel said, his voice taking an unusually biting tone. "As for my daughter –"
"You do not have to answer his questions, Mikel," Thorin interrupted. "It is no concern of Brasi's what role Signi has been given by me. If he does not wish to recognize my authority on this matter, and a number of others that he seems to be concerned about, then he can re-think his presence in these chambers. I will not allow someone to sit on my council and disrespect the good citizens of Erebor with every opportunity."
The muttering around the table stopped instantly, those opposed to the king's wishes carrying fearful expressions. How easily Thorin could weed out the spineless bastards, but it would not help. What little respect he garnered would be eliminated the moment he began clearing out anyone who opposed him. He would not be a tyrant.
Brasi sneered across the table at Thorin's words, his hands fisted in challenge. "And this council will not always be yours to dictate as you please."
Dain roared in protest at Brasi's bold statement, the other members joining him, all jeering angrily at the dwarf.
"Lord Brasi, you would do well to check your tongue!" Balin seethed. "You are treading in treasonous waters with those words."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Brasi with a feigned look of innocence. "Is Prince Fili not his heir? Will he not replace Thorin on the throne when the king is in his grave?"
The innocence on his face did not last long as he turned a cold eye on the king, his lip curling once more into a sneer.
"Hear me now, Thorin Oakenshield. I may not know what games you play by sending away your heir and making deals with Dale's king behind our backs, but it will not last. You have allowed your mind to be muddied – once by the gold-lust, and now by the girl. Your council is the only thing keeping this kingdom from falling apart. Keep pushing us away and you will find yourself without trade or allies."
The council fell silent, all sitting on the edge of their seats, watching and waiting for their king to respond.
Thorin smiled, his icy glare piercing Brasi's defiance. Turning slightly without breaking eye contact he said, "Mikel, could you bring out those contracts we are discussing today? I think it might be time to move that order of business forward."
"Of course, sire," Mikel said, pulling out a large stack of parchment. "The first is a contract with the farm of Ereik of Ered Luin, Tharrul Hundel Ib-bajth. They plan to continue the previous agreement with the exception of the 50% profit that was previously diverted to Lord Brasi to pay the farm's debts. It will now go completely to Ereik and his family as they are no longer indebted to Lord Brasi."
Thorin watched, his lips fighting the urge to grin, as Brasi learned of another holding that was lost. Nodding silently, he gestured for Mikel to continue reading.
"This one is a contract with Rolf, of Ered Luin, and his farm, Khaglâ Bindîn Ib-bajth. It is also the same as before, but rather than sending a 40% share of the money to Lord Brasi, it is now all sent to Rolf. And this contract…"
"How many contracts are there of this nature?" Thorin interrupted with a smirk.
Mikel shuffled through the papers counting each one in his hand. "Fifteen in total."
"Hmmmm," he said. "And, Balin, before today, how many contracts did we have in total with Ered Luin that called for a portion of profits to be sent to Brasi?"
"Twenty-five," Balin answered with a conspiratorial grin.
"Just ten to go," Thorin muttered, turning back to Brasi, who was red and shaking with anger. "So you see, Brasi, "he said in a sickeningly sweet voice that did not match the cutting glare he gave the dwarf lord." Your threats have no impact. Erebor does not need your financial support or connections in Ered Luin. You are free to walk away from this table at any point if you are so concerned by the way I run this kingdom."
Brasi did not answer for several long moments, carefully planning his words and checking his barely contained anger.
"I have no desire to leave this council, your majesty," he finally said in his infamous slimy tone.
"Then you will not question my authority!" Thorin roared, his chair falling back as he stood suddenly, slamming his fists on the table. "I am your king! The rightful king of Erebor, and if you question this again in my chambers you will find yourself as fodder for the fish in Long Lake!"
The council members all jumped at Thorin's sudden outburst, their jaws dropped at his forceful promise. To his left, Mikel remained calm with only a slight frown to display his displeasure. Balin sat on his right smiling serenely as he was familiar with Thorin's passionate responses over the years.
Brasi's jaw was clenched shut, a vein throbbing at his temple. Thorin continued to stand, leaning forward menacingly on his fists, watching the dwarf lord for any reaction. This was a side of Brasi rarely shown, and the king reveled in it. May Brasi forever remember the time that he questioned his king's authority. May he remember those promises so forcefully given by his king.
Brasi was the first to finally break eye contact, his eyes darted around the table, searching for member weak enough to be sucked into opposing the king. But none would meet his eye.
Slowly he turned back to Thorin. "As you wish, your highness," was all he said.
Thorin did not reply, nor did he nod and sit back down as expected. He stood up straight and proud, crossing his arms across this broad chest.
"Erebor is growing stronger by the minute," he rumbled. "Each day we open more of the mines, we build more alliances, and we accept more trade. And with all of these new alliances and trade, come the more complicated relationships with men and elves. If we are to have the kingdom of my forefathers, then we cannot hide in the bedrock and ignore our neighbors. The mountain cannot afford weakness in its government. If any of you feel that you cannot find it within yourself to consider the Kingdoms of Dale, or Rhun, or even the Mirkwood, then you are free to walk away without judgement and recourse. So long we dwarves have depended on no one but ourselves. But, if you find that you wish to see Erebor truly restored to its fullest potential, as well as Dale, then by all means, join me at my table."
The council sat stunned for a few moments, all staring at their king. Thorin held his breath as he waited for some reaction, any reaction.
Mikel was the first to respond, clapping slowly and purposefully as he stared back with a look of determination. Balin soon followed, beaming up at the king, and Dain whooped loudly and grinned at Brasi.
"He told you, boy!" Dain roared at Brasi, clapping his companions on the shoulder.
Soon the whole council was applauding, all of them cheering for their king. It was the most solidarity that Thorin had seen since he reclaimed the mountain. He smiled back gratefully at all of them, thankful that they could at last see something beyond his failures.
As the dwarves settled down and the king returned to his seat to continue the meeting, Thorin could not help allowing his mind to wander indulgently to Signi. If only she had been present to see him call out Brasi before the other lords of the mountain. Would she still call him a coward? Would she applaud him like the dwarves all did, or would she shrug it off and tell him he could do more? He strongly suspected the latter, but somehow that was more pleasing a thought than all of possible ways she might sing his praises. Perhaps, he thought as he listened to Mikel read through another item on the agenda, he could convince her father to describe the scene to her in great detail as they sat by their fire that night.
Dis' head pounded as she paced her Aunt Katlin's parlor. The elderly dwarrowdam talked in an incessant stream of questions, each more personal than the last. Thorin had been too occupied in council meetings to join them for tea, but was more than happy to spare Kili. Dis glanced at her son as he sat half-listening to Katlin talk about how wild dwarrowdams in the east were compared to the refined ladies of Ered Luin. Cousin Ana sat beside Kili on the sofa, hunched over in exhaustion, hanky in hand to dab her ever-dripping nose. The trip had been hard on her, but Katlin was insistent that she take tea like a proper lady rather than rest.
Lady Katlin herself was a formidable dwarrowdam with a massive estate in Ered Luin. She was the sister to their grandfather, Thror, and was close to 300 years old. Age did nothing to slow her down. Her mind was as sharp and her body as spry as it had been over 100 years before. Her gray hair was woven into a massive pile of braids, and her plaited beard reached her waist. Every inch of exposed neck and wrists were covered in Erebor jewels and gold. Every fat finger twinkled with gems. The sheer weight of her jewelry alone was enough to overpower a weaker dwarf.
"Sit down, Dis," Katlin demanded, turning to see what Dis was pacing about. "You will drive me to my grave if I have to keep turning to see you."
"Of course, Aunt. I was just taking exercise," Dis said sweetly. Over her aunt's shoulder she silently motioned for Kili to take the brief look of elation off of his face. He returned to sullenly stirring his tea as Dis sat in the chair beside her aunt.
Katlin turned toward Kili, her sharp eyes catching his behavior right away. "And how have you fared in finding a wife?" She croaked.
Dis held her breath as Kili looked up, his expression pained as his eyes darted between his aunt and his mother. As his mother, Dis felt that Kili might as well stick his knife into her over and over if it would take his pain away. She sympathized with the longing he felt for that elf, and would gladly take the pain to be her own ten-fold. But as a princess of Erebor, she knew that such a love could not be had. It angered her to think that Thorin had the very opportunity to change everything dangling right before him, and yet he ruined his marriage prospects with every bought of stubbornness. He had his kingdom and there was still time to produce an heir - an heir that was not one of her sons. One small change and Fili and Kili would be free to marry whomever they wished.
Kili schooled his expression quickly, giving his aunt one of his famous impish smiles. "I have found many fair dwarrowdams, but it seems none would have me."
"Humph. It is no surprise they won't have you," Katlin said, looking over Kili with an appraising eye. "The state of your beard is truly appalling. I will send my healer to you in the morning. He will give you a remedy for that."
"Oh no, I couldn't inconvenience you with that trouble," Kili said, his eyes wide in panic.
"It is no trouble," Katlin said with a finality that rivaled Thorin's. "No prince of Erebor should have the face of a dwarfling when he is full grown."
With pleading eyes, Kili silently begged his mother for help. Dis shook her head and gave him a warning look to sit up and be quiet. Kili immediately resumed sulking.
"And we must do something about that bow and arrow," Katlin continued, oblivious to her nephew's distress. "It's the weapon of a dwarrowdam, certainly not fit for a prince."
Kili's face flushed with anger, but before he could retort Dis cut in with her own opinion. "That is absurd! Many dwarrows use a bow as their primary weapon. Frerin was a master archer!"
"Yes, and we see how well it fared him in battle," Katlin said sharply.
Dis sucked in a deep breath, counting to ten as she released. Three days of Katlin's condescension was more than she could bear. Kili was not doing much better, as he now had his eyes closed and his nostrils flared with unvoiced anger.
By the grace of Mahal, Ana choked on her tea, which led to a rather lengthy coughing fit, followed by a fainting spell. Although Katlin took no issue finding fault in others, Ana was to be protected at all costs. Before she could send a maid to their rooms to fetch the smelling salts, she all but pushed Dis and Kili out the door with promises of meeting for tea again the following day.
In the hallway, Dis and Kili shared simultaneous sighs of relief.
"Mahal," Kili muttered. "She's going to send that damn healer tomorrow."
Dis rolled her eyes. There was nothing wrong with Kili's beard, and she would knock sense into any dwarrowdam that found fault with it. "If she sends that healer, you throw anything he gives you into the lake!"
Kili smiled wryly. "Thanks, mama," he said quietly.
Dis could not resist wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a noisy kiss on his cheek. He may be a dwarf grown, but he was still her mischievous baby. Fili was like his father, kind and loyal to a fault. But Kili had taken after her in so many ways that she felt a kinship to his struggles to fit in and to be the responsible prince he was supposed to be.
Hooking her arm through Kili's, Dis led the way to the raven keep. She had another note from Fili to deliver.
"Now, son, tell me. What is all of the sulking about?"
"I'm not sulking," he said, rolling his eyes.
Dis looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. Her son knew better than to try and lie to her.
After a long, suffering sigh Kili finally divulged his distress. "The Elf king has ordered Tauriel to an outpost at Emyn Muil . Indefinitely. With Fili gone, and now her…I guess I am just feeling a bit alone."
Dis felt her guts clench at his mention of the elf maid. What a cruel world they lived in that Kili would fall in love outside of his race. Why should he, who had suffered the loss of his father, and nearly the loss of his own life, have his heart taken by an elf?
She could not tell him that it would be okay, because she knew from her own experience that it definitely would not. To be given a love and then to have it cruelly ripped away was something that one never recovered from. She could not criticize him for feeling so forlorn over the elf maid, for it only confirmed her suspicions – that Kili did not have a passing fancy, but rather a solid bond with Tauriel. Signi had been right all along, but it didn't make the acceptance any easier.
Kissing his cheek again, she scruffed his hair like she did when he was young. "You are never alone when you are with me," she said, squeezing his hand. "When we get to the raven keep, you can send Fili a message. And maybe we can think of a way to get a message to your elf maid."
Kili's face brightened immeasurably, and a bounce was added to his step. In just a few moments he was back to himself.
Thorin would not be pleased by Dis' interference, but she would gladly take him on. It was his time to be a proper king, and to free her sons from the oppression of the crown.
Signi took a deep breath as her eyes scanned the crowd of ladies before her. A small group of four dwarrowdams had accompanied her to Dale, including her sisters, Lifa and Baila, and Kara. Princess Dis had also come, although Signi suspected her joining had more to do with the arrival of Lady Katlin than the charitable reasons she claimed.
True to his word, King Bard had arranged for some of the ladies of Dale to join their group. The princesses, Sigrid and Tilda, were there, as well as three other trusted women.
Together they gathered in the great hall of the King's House, dwarrowdams and women alike, all eagerly waiting directives from their leader. Ten ladies, Signi thought, just ten ladies to combat hundreds. When she had spoken to Bard a few days prior, he estimated that there were around 500 cases of the illness in the city, and that number was growing with each warm night.
"I want to thank all of you for coming to assist," Signi said, clearing her throat to wipe the nervousness from her voice. This was not a time to become shy. "The kings of each of our kingdoms have tasked us with the one of the most important jobs: saving the good citizens of Dale. Now that I think of it, perhaps even more important than our men standing guard on the wall or in the halls of Erebor."
The women chuckled at her quip. A jibe at the men would always be a common thread for women, no matter what race they were.
"I have spent the last few days conferring with our healers," Signi continued, gaining confidence, "and reading the records of the last time this illness ravaged Dale. The good news is that it can be stopped. But it will take a lot of hard work. We may be few in numbers, but we are fighters, all of us, to the last mother, daughter, and sister! Together, we will bring Dale the healing it deserves!"
The ladies applauded enthusiastically, each of them feeling more inspired than they thought possible.
In a matter of minutes, Signi had described their course of action, assigned individual tasks, and given each person a basket of supplies. It was a simple plan, but it was important that the women followed through with each step. They would be going door to door, starting in the poorest neighborhoods. They would check every person in the home for any sign of the illness and record all names. If anyone was sick, they would provide medicine and instructions on how to reduce fevers. They would also provide every home with a canopy for their beds. It would be a small measure, but it would make a huge impact of reducing the number of nightly pests that got in the house.
The plan was to be as efficient as possible, and with luck, they would have visited every home by the week's end. Then the process would start again, over and over until the disease was gone.
Dis' smug grin when she approached Signi to get her basket greatly resembled her brother's. Signi shivered at the thought.
"Wonderful message," she said, low enough that the others did not hear. "Thorin would be proud. Even he has not given a battle speech so motivating!"
Signi felt her face prickle with heat. It was not her intention address the situation as though it was a battle, but it seemed so natural. She did not doubt for a moment that Thorin would take the exact same approach.
"I couldn't agree more," said a voice behind her. Signi turned and met Sigrid's bright smile. Like her father, she was long-limbed, towering over Signi and the other dwarrowdams. Her hair was the color of honey and her eyes were the warmest blue Signi had ever seen. Her sister, Tilda, was much the same, though she carried a mischievous glint that was reminiscent of Dis and Kili.
"Thank you," Signi said, her voice inflecting in question. She was not in the habit of conversing with women and did not wish to offend the princess.
Sigrid laughed and looped her arm through Signi's. "You are coming with me on the rounds. I just have to get to know the future queen of Erebor."
Signi nearly fell over, her face burning and her mouth gaping like a fish. It took every ounce of strength to not kick Dis, who was positively shaking with silent laughter beside them.
"I am not the future queen of Erebor," she said through clenched teeth. Across the room, Lifa and Kara had heard the Princess' comment, and watched in interest as Signi corrected her.
Sigrid was genuinely mortified and blushed prettily as she gasped, "I am so sorry! I just thought I heard…oh, never mind. Please forgive me. I just make such a mess of things…always speaking without thinking…Da says I have to rein in my wild tongue now that I have a title…"
The poor girl was so flustered that Signi could not stand to let her continue in such a manner. "Don't worry, "she said gently, squeezing Sigrid's hand. "You are not the first to make that mistake. I am not so easily offended. In fact, I take that as a compliment."
"I'm not so sure it is a mistake," Dis muttered in Khuzdul, earning an angry scowl from Signi.
The ladies left the King's House and headed out into the city, travelling in pairs for safety. It slowed them down, but Signi knew that both kings were concerned about the safety of ladies entering homes of strangers. Beneath her cloak, Signi could feel the leather holster that Thorin had given her, the weight of the daggers pressed against her sides. She prayed to Mahal that she would never need to use such a gift, but was thankful to have them nonetheless.
Signi felt her face flush when she remembered how Lifa had reacted to the gift. A wicked grin spread across her face the moment she laid eyes on them, and she promised to eat her own beard if they were not a courting gift. Signi argued vehemently that they certainly were not a courting gift, simply a precaution against the dangers of Dale. But that night, as she curled beneath her covers, her fingers running over the rubies in the hilt of each blade and the king's mark on the ends, she dared to imagine that the gift had come with a promise and a kiss.
Sigrid talked as they walked in a never ending stream of thoughts. Signi could barely keep up as the princess flitted from one topic to another in a blink of an eye. She suspected that the girl had few friends in the kingdom and longed for a female companion that was not her sister. In some way, Signi could relate now that her one female friend was married to the suitor she herself had rejected.
"Da says that King Thorin has changed. For the better. And he thinks he knows why."
"Oh?" Signi asked. She could see changes in the king herself, but she did not imagine them lasting long.
Sigrid giggled and leaned into Signi. "Have you not seen it as well, my lady? He seems…lighter, happier. And he is more persistent than ever to get my Da's approval."
"Perhaps," Signi muttered, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably. They couldn't get to a new topic fast enough.
"And Da said that his decision to send you to talk about was the best thing he could have done. He wishes you would have been there three years ago to talk some sense into King Thorin instead of him locking the dwarves in the mountain."
"Like I could influence the king. He is the most pig-headed dwarf I have ever met," Signi snorted, rolling her eyes. Three years ago his brain had been addled by the great horde of gold and the hunt for the Arkenstone. She seriously doubted that she could ever have stopped him from making the poor decisions that he did in those days.
Sigrid hummed in response, but did not argue. Clearly she thought Signi had more influence than she gave herself credit.
"And what about those daggers hiding under your cloak? Princess Dis said that they are forged by the king himself. Now I am no expert in dwarvish customs, but I was taught that a courting dwarf will shower his bride-to-be with gifts. And to give a dwarrowdam a weapon forged by his own hand is a true declaration of love."
"Mahal help me," Signi groaned, covering her face in embarrassment. This princess of Dale knew far too much.
"Now you understand my mistake," Sigrid giggled. "It won't happen again, my lady. I will only acknowledge your affections for King Thorin once you have acknowledged them yourself.
Thorin was insatiable in his exercise as he and Dwalin sparred in the arena late into the night. There was no anger behind his powerful swings, no rage fueling the mighty thrusts of his sword. Dwalin had his suspicions, but held his tongue. The king may be acknowledging the attractiveness of dwarrowdams for the first time in two hundred years, but he would sooner retreat to his former miserable self than admit that his passions were overtaking his actions.
"You are on the lass' good side again," Dwalin grunted as Thorin's sword clanged against his shield. "She hasn't grumbled about you once this week to Balin and me at breakfast."
Thorin pulled back, preparing to swing again. A smirk crept beneath his beard. "A miracle, I'm sure," he said smoothly, swinging his sword again. "She will find fault with me again before morning."
"I doubt that," Dwalin chuckled. "When she hears about what you said to Brasi, she'll be in your arms begging to be your bride."
Thorin stopped moving at those words, Dwalin's sword hitting him across the chest and knocking him heavily to the floor.
"Durin's beard! Why in the world would you just stand there and let me hit you like that?!" Dwalin shouted, reaching down to help his king get off the floor. "You're going to get yourself killed mooning over the lass."
Thorin scowled, not because Dwalin was wrong, but because he was right. Very right. Had he become so transparent to all but Signi?
The king tried to rub his bruised chest, but his gloved hand could not push through the mail shirt he wore. Dwalin watched him, his brow creased with apology. Waving dismissively, Thorin stomped out of the sparring ring with Dwalin on his heels. The pair sat on a bench, each taking the drink offered by a servant standing by.
"Brasi cannot last much longer," Thorin said in a low voice, his eyes darting around the arena to make sure that they were not overheard. "Fili has bought out almost all of the merchants he 'saved' when Erebor was restored. He doesn't have a trade route to lord over me with anymore."
"Then why does he still sit on your council?" Dwalin asked with a scowl.
Thorin hesitated, not quite sure how to answer the question. He could easily relieve Brasi of his duties and send him packing back to Ered Luin. There was nothing left for the dwarf to try and blackmail the king. But Thorin was not ready to remove him entirely. Such a sudden change in the council would cause a scandal. Brasi had a number of supporters, though many were not willing supporters, and a dismissal without cause would be very detrimental to Thorin's tenuous authority.
"I must catch Brasi in the act. I must find some way to prove that he has meddled far too much in stated affairs."
Dwalin stroked his beard, his mouth still twisted in a scowl. Thorin knew that his friend held nothing but contempt for the dwarf lord. Loyalty, and a willing heart. That was the kind of dwarf Thorin wanted on his council.
"What will you do to appease Brasi in the meantime?"
Thorin's lips twisted in a rare wicked grin. Oh he had a plan, and he suspected that Dwalin would approve.
"I have been thinking lately about the Exiled Kingdom in Ered Mithrin," He said slowly, his grin widening as the captain's eyebrows rose high on his bald head.
"Thakalgund, the home of our grandfathers, is in the perfect location along the northern pass to place a legion of soldiers patrolling for orcs at their source."
"No," Dwalin snapped, his arms crossed firmly. "Our soldiers are already stretched far too thin. I certainly can't spare an entire legion for some far-fetched –"
"Peace, Dwalin," Thorin said, clapping his friend on the back. "I have no intention of sending our soldiers up there. Brasi claims to have well-trained soldiers waiting in Ered Luin to help keep Erebor safe. He can provide such soldiers if he wishes to keep a seat on the council."
"That might work," Dwalin said slowly.
"Aye, it will," Thorin answered. "But I need you to take a group of dwarves - say, half a dozen - to survey the halls and see what needs to be done to prepare for occupation. "
Dwalin grinned, the adventurous glint returning to his eye. Dwalin was a dwarf made for roaming, for wiping out the filth roaming the earth. He grew restless in the mountain and had voiced his displeasure many times over that he had not been commissioned to accompany Fili back across the continent.
"We will leave at dawn," he replied. "The sooner we can get Brasi and the orc scum cleaned out the better."
Gold. He could feel it. The treasury door throbbed against his back as he braced himself against it, the gold calling his name in the dragon's voice.
Thorin was stronger all week than he had been since Erebor first entered his sight three years before. He had found his voice against Brasi, he had successfully made an agreement with Bard, and he had given Signi the gift that he had labored over for weeks. He even found the strength within to carry a few gold coins in his pocket, to roll them in his hand when he was alone.
But a few gold coins were nothing compared to the great horde beyond that door.
His hand grappled with the handle, slick with the sweat that covered him from head to toe. Thorin panted as he twisted, the door clicking open.
The serpent's voice slipped through the narrow crack, taunting him as he tried to stay upright long enough to open the door. His stomach churned and Thorin swallowed thickly against the bile burning in his throat. He would sooner vomit on the floor of the treasury than give up without entering.
Closing his eyes briefly, he conjured an image, any image that would help him take a step into the room. Signi was the first thing to come to mind, her smooth face bathed in the golden light of the treasury. His stomach twisted for an entirely different reason as he imagined the same golden light shining on her hair, her slim neck, the dip in her clavicle…
Thorin opened his eyes quickly before his treacherous imagination went any further. Yanking open the door, he stomped resolutely into the treasury. Gold sickness be damned, he would defeat it.
The king made it down the steps leading to the mighty horde. Dragon whispers snaked through his mind again as he looked over the mountains of untouched gold. So much wealth, and yet it was not enough.
The whispers grew to deafening roar, and Thorin knew he was in trouble. Desperately he tried to conjure Signi's image once more no matter how indecent it became. Anything was better than submitting to the gold's power again. But Signi did not come, her face replaced by the reptilian movements of Smaug.
"Thorin Oakenshield," the serpent hissed as he curled around the king. "We meet again."
In the back of his mind, Thorin knew that it was only his imagination that Smaug was guarding the horde as though Erebor had never been retaken, but the awareness was not strong enough.
"No," he cried hoarsely to none but the gold. The blackness came, over powering Thorin where he stood, making him crumple helplessly to the floor.
* Tharrul hundel ib-bajth – Rocky Ridge Farm
* Khaglâ bindîn ib-bajth – Blue Summit Farm
* Êthârul – literally translates to "many". Another way of saying "commoner"
Thank you to Dwarrow Scholar for the translations. They may not be the most accurate, but they will suffice :)
And of course I had to borrow that bit of dialog from Fili :)