Hadâd

"You look better in red."

Fíli smiled and smoothed his hand over the tunic he was wearing. "You've said that before, but I've been told the blue suits me as well," he said mildly.

Rarí made a noise. "It's fine enough, but the red makes a better statement."

He half turned to look at her. She was seated on the couch in his study and watching him with a slight frown on her face. He was sure she was supposed to be doing whatever it was she was doing with Dís, but she had knocked on his door ten minutes ago and asked if she could talk with him for a bit. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't really wanted to talk and if he didn't have a meeting soon he would have continued where they had left off last night. But that wasn't in the cards at the moment so he focused on her comment instead. "What kind of statement should I be making?"

"The Ironfists only respect strength, Fíli. It's the one thing that matters to them and they think you're weak."

Facing her fully, it was his turn to frown. "How does that have anything to do with me wearing blue?"

Rarí pursed her lips, looking like she'd said more than she'd intended and she didn't want to say anything else. "We as a people are so very traditional," she said softly. "We practically live and breathe it every day, but sometimes it isn't a good thing. Right now, Delrín is abusing a tradition and mocking you. You're a young king, Fíli, and there isn't anything wrong with that. But right now, the Ironfists think that you're king only because of your bloodline."

His eyes narrowed as anger simmered in his veins. He knew the thoughts weren't hers, but to hear that this was what some thought of him made his temper snap. "I have shed blood, sweat and tears for my people and this mountain. Why does my worth always come back to my age?"

"It isn't just your age. It's so much more, but that's the linchpin."

"Let me guess," he growled, "the fact that Erebor was lost is another fact even though I wasn't even alive when it happened." That was a rumour Kíli had brought to him recently, a lie spread to sow more dissention in his people. But who had spread it?

"They say weakness lies in the Line of Durin and if they were truly the great clan they once were, they never would have lost the mountain."

Fíli nearly bared his teeth in a snarl. "Then they can go north and rid the world of the dragons that live there. Let them burn in their precious mithril armour because not even that would save them from a dragon's fire."

He saw Rarí's face tighten and regret soured his stomach. This wasn't her fault any more than it was his. He shouldn't be taking out his anger on her, but he couldn't get an apology past the lump in his throat.

Turning from her, he closed his eyes and focused on breathing. His rage had no place between them and he needed to get rid of it before he met with Delrín. Lately, the only thing that helped him was training with Kíli, but his brother was busy ensuring that everything was ready for the thrice damned final gift.

He stiffened when her arms slid around his waist and she pressed against his back. The tension faded swiftly, but he was disappointed that he couldn't feel her as clearly as he had last night. The mithril mail he was wearing dampened the press of her body, but his mind hadn't forgotten and had no problems filling in what he couldn't feel.

"I'm sorry, Fíli," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Fíli covered her hands with his and squeezed. "It isn't your fault," he sighed. "They aren't easy words to hear no matter who says them."

"They also aren't true, Fíli."

He snorted softly. He knew that but to know that that was how some viewed him? They questioned his strength when it had been the very thing that had allowed him to survive, not just the reclaiming of Erebor, but ruling the kingdom as well. Some could say it had been stubbornness instead, but they sprang from the same well inside him. "How did you hear them?"

There was a moment of silence and Fíli was positive that if he wasn't holding onto her, she would have moved away from him.

"Rarí?" he asked when she still didn't say anything.

She shifted behind him, pressing her face further into his back. "I…overheard it," she muttered.

"From whom?" he demanded more sharply than he'd intended. Was someone in his own home spreading the lies?

More shifting. "Someone was talking with your mother and uncle when I went to tell Dís I would be late."

His eyes closed and he relaxed slightly, but not much. He had seen the contained fury in his mother's eyes some nights, the blue of her eyes becoming so pale like his uncle's, and he had wondered what lies she had heard that she wasn't telling him. He almost thought it would be better for all of them if they just turned Dís loose on the mountain to find the traitors.

The snort left him before he could stop it and he felt Rarí freeze. "What's that for?"

Fíli shook his head. No way was he sharing the image that had popped into his head. His mother hadn't fought in years, but he had no doubt that she wouldn't take up swords and axe to bring order to Erebor again. He didn't think she'd appreciate the fact that she looked like a mad-dwarf in his imagination, however.

"Fíli?"

He shook his head again before tugging her arms loose enough to turn around. His lips curled when she made a noise and peeked up at him. "You still haven't told me what blue has to do with any of that," he said gently, looping his arms around her.

"Oh," Rarí said, blinking. "Well, it's Durin's colour."

"I am of his line," he said dryly.

"True, but your mum says that your colouring is that of a Firebeard. I mean, looking at you, it's obvious that you are a Longbeard especially if anyone's seen your uncle. But when you only wear blue, you're acknowledging just one side of yourself. There's more to you than just being of Durin's Line but the blue seems to say that it's the only thing you care about."

He stared at her. "How did you get all of that from what colour I wear?" he demanded, a little stunned. He had expected a flippant response, something light and not at all what she had said.

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I have to think of things like that when I'm given free reign over a commission," she said quietly. "What colours suit, clash, what they represent and what they imply. I don't make only weapons, Fíli, and every colour of the stone and metal that I use means something."

He could hear the longing under her words and knew that she missed forging. He wished that he could let her return to Bofur's to work the anvil, but he couldn't. Not only was he concerned about her safety, he wanted her close to him.

"Your mum said that you always wore russet and grey before you took the throne. They're your colours, a blend of the reds of the Firebeards and the blues of Durin, but now you never wear them. Or when you do, it isn't when the people see you. You're not Durin, Fíli, so why are you trying so hard to follow in his footsteps?"

Because he had been raised a certain way, had been told he had to live a certain way. The Longbeard way, the way that Durin had set down. He suddenly wondered how different he would have been if Bírli had lived and Thorin hadn't been as influential in his upbringing. Dropping his head, he let his forehead bump gently against hers. "I think you're lying to me, Rarí," he said mildly.

She gave him an odd look. "About what?"

"I don't think you're the simple blacksmith you keep claiming you are. You see more to things that you shouldn't notice or shouldn't have more than face value. Yet you find deeper meaning in the colour of my clothes and can toss my world on its ear with only a few sentences."

Her lips curled and he saw a wicked edge to her smile. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're only male so I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Fíli stared at her while she kept smiling at him until he snorted. Her laugh made him smile in return. "So you think that I should start wearing red everywhere?" he asked.

"I think you should do whatever you want," Rarí corrected. "I simply think you'd look better in red."

He was going to have to talk to someone about working red into his royal clothes. He didn't think he would be able to abandon the blue all together, but it wasn't only the blood of Durin that ran through his veins. His father and the Firebeards were a part of him and even though this was one of Durin's kingdoms he wouldn't be here without either of those lines.

"But you have other things to think about right now besides what colour you should be wearing."

There was no doubt in his mind what she was talking about but he chose to focus on the one thing he would rather worry about. "You're right. I'm going to have to speak with your father about courting you properly," he agreed.

Her laughter was startled and all the sweeter for it. "I'm not sure if he's going to approve of it when he's still being locked away."

The words were gentle but relevant. "Once the Ironfists are gone, I'll give him a room on this floor," he said quietly. "I'll make sure that the two of you aren't separated again."

Rarí's eyes widened. "Fíli, I didn't-"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers. Nidin had been kept away from her for long enough and he was the only family she had left. Plus, she was right. What father would approve of someone courting his daughter in a situation like this? He let the thoughts slide away when her hands moved up, gripping the fabric over his shoulders tightly as her mouth softened under his.

A low noise rumbled up through his chest as she shifted closer and his arm around her waist tightened. Last night had ended far sooner than he had wanted, but if he was going to do this properly, he couldn't treat Rarí like any other female he had been with. He had reigned in the passion burning through him, but his control had slipped more than once. How could it not when everything in him was screaming that it wanted her for his own?

The same fire burned through him now and he could taste it in her as well. It was there as her lips parted under a pass of his tongue and in the way she didn't back down from him as he slipped into her mouth. She yielded to him, but that in no way diminished the fight and hunger inside her.

The ends of her loose hair tickled his hand as he kneaded at her lower back, just begging him to run his fingers through it. Or bury his face into it while he pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders. He knew how soft and sensitive that skin was now and he liked hearing the breathless noises that left her when he paid it attention. He wanted to tumble them both onto the couch, press her into the cushions and lose himself in the feel of her.

A sharp knock on the door had them pulling apart in surprise.

Rarí looked quickly at the door, but he let his gaze linger on her face for a little longer. Her cheeks were flushed and rapidly getting darker. He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her rosy skin and smiled when he felt her shiver. "You're not good at hiding your embarrassment," he murmured.

Her eyes swung back to his. "I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you, Fíli. I was startled."

He lifted a brow and gave her hair a gentle tug. "Whatever you say, Lady," he said softly, letting go of her.

She didn't let go of him. "I'm not, Fíli," she insisted. "I wouldn't care if someone walked in on us when we were kissing because I'm not ashamed of what we have."

"I was only teasing, Rarí," he said gently, leaning down to kiss her again.

It was a bad idea because her hands let go of his shirt to thread into his hair and hold him where he was. He couldn't help himself as he sank into the kiss, following her as she parted her lips. He dimly heard the knock again, but it faded from his mind as Rarí's tongue flicked over his.

His arms slid back around her, pulling her against him fully even as a pleased growl left him. She was like molten mithril in his hands, melting under his touch and more precious than he had ever realised.

"Mahal, Fíli, are you going to let her breathe?"

Breaking the kiss smoothly, Fíli looked over to the door and saw Kíli standing there with his brow cocked. Damn it. His gaze flicked down to Rarí and he saw the faint smile on her lips. The colour was still in her cheeks but she had proved her point. And of all the people the catch them, Kíli was probably the best. Holding her gaze for a moment, he wanted to shake his head when he saw her smile grow and he stepped back from her. He didn't want to let go but if Kíli was here, it was time to meet with Delrín.

He was surprised when she rose on her toes to brush her lips over his again before she started for the door. "I'll leave you alone since I'm probably late now," she said as a farewell.

"Late for what?" both brothers asked.

She rolled her eyes at them and kept walking. "None of your business."

Fíli watched her go, wondering if he should ask again. But she wouldn't answer more than that. Once the door was closed behind her, he looked at Kíli when his brother let out a low whistle. "What?"

"That didn't take long," Kíli remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I guess it only took someone else pointing it out."

Making a disgusted noise, Fíli ran his hands over his hair, smoothing what Rarí had ruffled. He wasn't going to give his brother the satisfaction but they both knew Kíli was right. He may have continued on being a fool for too long and lost whatever chance he might have had with her if his brother hadn't said anything. "This stays between us," he said quietly.

Kíli nodded. "Of course. But you're going to announce it once the Ironfists are gone."

It wasn't a question but Fíli hesitated over the answer. "The Ironfists aren't the threat to Rarí's family. The traitors are. Is announcing that I intend to court Rarí only going to irritate them further?"

His brother pursed his lips. "It's not really about them though, is it? It's about you and Rarí. I understand wanting to keep her safe, but if she's going to be courted by the king she deserves everything that goes with it and keeping it secret is doing the exact opposite."

Fíli gave his brother a look. Was everyone going to read deeper into everything he said today? If so, he would have to be careful what he said to Delrín. Although, it was highly unlikely the other dwarf would misunderstand anything about a fist to the face. He almost snorted. If he was going to do that, he should have done it the day Delrín had arrived. "I'll ask her what she would prefer," he said simply.

"Probably for the best. Rarí seems like she'd have no issues denting your skull with her hammer if you did something she didn't like."

Most likely, but that was something to think about later. "Is everything ready?" he asked quietly.

Kíli nodded. "They're waiting in the main room off the throne hall," he said, dropping his arms and flexing his hands as if he wanted his sword in them. "Thorin, Dwalin, and half of the King's Guard are already there. The other half is patrolling the halls leading to the room. We've pulled a few select guards from the army to keep watch up here and Dwalin handpicked each of them."

Fíli blew out a low breath. Thorin had told him what Nidin had to say about the Ironfists and their gifts, but hadn't had any suggestions about how to get rid of Delrín. He wasn't proud of the fact that that conversation had dissolved into an argument that hadn't entirely been resolved, but Fíli knew he had to get rid of the Ironfists and telling him that wasn't helping any. If someone had actually given him a viable way to do it, he would have gladly taken it. "Let's get this over with," he said darkly.

His brother fell into step beside him as they left the room and followed the hallways to where Delrín was waiting. There was only one good thing about this gift and that it was the last. After this, Delrín would have no reason to stay in Erebor and Fíli would be damned before he let the dwarf remain here. He had no desire to subject his people to more of the Ironfist influence.

It felt like it took no time to reach the room where his final gift was waiting. He grabbed Kíli's arm before his brother could open the door and waited for Kíli to look at him. "No matter what happens in there, I want you to promise me something," Fíli said, his voice low.

Dark brows came together and he could tell that Kíli didn't like the sound of this already. "Name it."

"Rarí and Nidin are to be looked after as if they're family. I don't care what you have to do. I will not see them suffer any further for something that they had no part in."

Kíli was still watching him warily but he nodded slowly. "Of course, but, Fee?"

"Aye?"

"Don't let anything happen in there that will keep you from doing it yourself."

He let go of Kíli and held out his hand. His brother clasped below his elbow, squeezing tightly. "I'll do my best," he agreed.

It was the most he could offer Kíli and even though neither of them liked it, they both understood that. Kíli let go before pushing the door open and waiting for him to enter.

Fíli slowly walked into the room, taking note of where everyone was. It wasn't hard to miss the King's Guard lining the walls and each one of them was matched by an Ironfist flocking around Delrín. He was sitting at one end of the table in the room, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. There was a chest sitting on the table in front of him, all square edges and completely black. Even without seeing whatever was inside, Fíli's skin was crawling.

Moving to the other end of the table where Thorin and Dwalin were standing, Fíli wasn't surprised to see Balin there as well. He had a feeling that they were going to need the older dwarf's diplomacy before this little meeting was over. Glancing at the chair waiting for him, Fíli didn't sit down. He wanted this over quickly and sitting down would signal that he actually wanted to hear whatever Delrín had to say.

He waited for Kíli to take his place with the rest of their family before he met Delrín's dark eyes. "You have one final gift to give," he said evenly. "I would appreciate it if we did this quickly."

Delrín's brows rose. "That isn't the way this is done."

"From everything I've heard, the way you've given the gifts isn't honourable to their original meaning anyways," Fíli pointed out. "How is breaking from that tradition now going to be any different?"

He actually saw the Ironfists stiffen and he wondered if it was because he was insulting them or they didn't think that he would have the nerve to say something to their king like that. Either way it didn't matter to him. Delrín's expression did nothing more than tighten slightly before he pushed himself to his feet. "As you wish," he said lowly.

Fíli watched him, feeling every muscle he possessed tensing as he waited for whatever was lying within that box to be revealed.

"I give to you, Fíli, King of Erebor and son of Durin's Line," Delrín said formally, "the final of the Seven on this seventh day of the gifts." With that being said, he flicked the latch and opened the chest.

Staring at the crown lying inside the box, Fíli knew it would never sit on his head. It was solid gold and burned in the light from the candles in the room. The lines were sharp like every crown the kings of dwarves wore, but something was screaming that it was wrong. Even from across the room he knew that it wasn't something he wanted touching him. At one time, it had probably been beautiful, but now it only felt tainted.

A low hiss left Balin to his left. "How did you get that?" he asked, his voice tight.

Delrín's gaze shifted to him, but he gave his answer to Fíli. "It was given into our safe keeping when the original owner no longer had need of it."

Fíli was actually surprised at the noise that ripped out of Balin and would have looked at him if he had thought taking his eyes off of Delrín was a good idea. "That has been missing for Ages," he snapped, all of his usual calm demeanour gone, "and there is no plausible reason that it would be given into your hands."

Delrín's head tipped back slightly so he was looking down at the older dwarf. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"You certainly have a penchant for twisting your words, Ironfist," he said tightly. "But if you are telling the truth, explain why Durin II would entrust one of his crowns to you?"

There was a stunned moment of silence before Fíli felt the tempers of the Line of Durin spark to life. And he knew that whether or not they exploded depended on his response to this gift, this final insult. Holding Delrín's gaze, Fíli knew that he could easily start a war with only a few words but that was what the Ironfist wanted. They were warmongers. They lived and breathed strength, looked forward to their next battle and were aiming to make Erebor it.

You can't have my mountain, you arse of a king, he thought angrily. "The circumstances of how you got this don't matter to me," he said evenly, keeping a chokehold on his temper and his family's. "It has been returned to its proper clan and that is how it should be."

He actually saw Delrín's lip curl into a faint snarl at the underhanded insult before his expression smoothed. Everyone in the room knew that this crown should have been returned to the Longbeards long ago and that no amount of pandering was going to change that fact. Which called into question the Ironfists' honour at keeping it for so long. "Then you will accept it?" he asked flatly.

"To turn away a gift is even more a disgrace than how they've been given."

One of the Ironfists growled but it died when the sound of steel sang through the room as the King's Guard unsheathed their weapons. Delrín raised a hand sharply and none of his warriors moved to respond. "It would seem that we have worn out our welcome. We did come in peace, Fíli."

"And yet my mountain has done nothing but suffer since you've arrived."

"That is no fault of ours," he said sharply. "If you can't control your own-"

"I highly suggest you hold your tongue, Delrín," Fíli interrupted. "You are the older king, but you are not acting like it. You stand in my mountain and dare to tell me what is wrong with it? That I am lacking because of my age? I have fought and nearly given my life for this kingdom, for my people, and I have tolerated the last insult against them and me."

Silence fell in the room but it didn't bother Fíli. He had his family at his back and he knew that they would support him no matter what. Even if it meant starting a war. Delrín was watching him and for the first time there was wariness in the other king's eyes. Had he finally realised that Fíli's age meant little when it came to protecting his people? And that there was only so far you could push him before he would push back?

A low sound suddenly rumbled through the room and the chandelier overhead started rattling.

Frowning, Fíli looked up at it, watching as it swayed, before dread filled him. There was only one way that it could be moving and it felt like someone had ripped out his heart as he realised what was happening.

"Get down!" several voices bellowed.

The mountain was convulsing as something within her collapsed.