Chapter Twenty Five

"So, where are they?" Gimli called as he stomped down the hallway after them, seeing his waddling gait again after several months making Yarna laugh.

"Here they are!" Legolas announced, opening the door that led to their chambers. The room beyond was bare and almost empty, containing only a large bed and chest. A solitary tapestry failed to cover one wall fully. There were no princesses to be seen, only a faint giggling that Gimli could not have been expected to hear. Legolas cocked his head for show, listening intently before he bounded across the room and pulled the second door open. Lilleila had dissolved into a fit of laughter, coughing for air next to her only marginally more composed sister.

"They were hiding." Yarna sighed as he stated the glaringly obvious, forgetting for a moment he no longer needed to, before he pulled Xanthi out of the second room and lifting her up.

"Come on out and meet Gimli," Yarna told them in Sindarin. Lilleila scurried out, almost tripping over herself in her hurry to actually meet her father's friend.

"Good day, Master Gimli," she squeaked in better Westron than Yarna expected. She knew her daughters had been tutored by Cedwar and Uria during the war when they had had time. Lilleila's accent surprised her, even Matlar had not learnt to speak Westron without a strong lilt until he was an adult.

"And what's your name, lassie?" Gimli could look her in the eye as he spoke, smiling beneath his beard.

"Lilleila. This is Xanthi!" Xanthi had escaped her father's grasp and been put down. She curtsied slightly, staring at the strange sight in front of her.

"What fine girls you've got there, good day Xanthi!" He was speaking too quickly for them to understand. "Here, I've got a present for the two of you."

"He has a gift," Yarna murmured to them in Sindarin. Some part of her had even afraid that too long at Thranduil's court would make her girls disposed to disliking Gimli, Legolas' attitude up to a year before had been less than cordial. Her fears vanished when Gimli opened his hand to reveal a miniature elf toy, a blond archer remarkably similar to the full sized one next to her and Lilleila clapped her hands in delight for when the chest was pressed the tiny mechanics whirred into action and the bow string was pulled back.

"Thank you, Master!" she said happily. To all their surprise she kissed what would have been Gimli's cheek had it not just been beard.

"She's a darling." Next to her Legolas almost glowed with joy

"It feels strange!" Lilleila told them in Sindarin. "It tickles!"

"What's she rabbiting on about?" asked Gimli.

"She was commenting on the bizarre texture of your facial hair," Yarna said, smiling. The tensions that had surrounded Thorin's quest were all but hidden, his namesake making as much of an effort as possible. Thranduil slightly less so, after Doriath he could not really be blamed.

"Her father can't even grow a beard." Legolas put a hand to his cheek, as if checking no offending hairs had appeared.

"For that I am glad," continued Yarna. She remembered Eorl's scratchy chin even when he was old and the rest of his hair had fallen out he still had something that vaguely resembled a beard that trembled when he spoke. He father's beard had been slightly more noteworthy.

A knock at the door startled them and she left Legolas to translate. Matlar appeared as haggard as he had every day since they returned from the War and North Undeep, always looking over his shoulder. His additional scowl suggested enough of a new development to worry her.

"You had better come," he said with none of his usual eloquence. He turned sharply, hardly waiting for her to follow.

Keep them here, she told Legolas as she closed the door gently, hoping Gimli at least would not notice. Her husband was too distracted to be able to formulate a question in return.

"What had happened?" she asked Matlar's back, him striding ahead forcing her to half run to catch him up. The corridor flew by and they were down in the courtyard before he answered.

"Armenion." Dread filled her at his tone. "I saved him from having to face Soliel or my father." Matlar halted dramatically, catching her arm. "We have to stop this from going any further. It was a scuffle between him and Brand." Yarna did not need to ask why. Brand had taken Aragorn's marriage to mean something different to the exceptional event it was and set his eyes on Xanthi as the heir to Mirkwood.

"You knew," Matlar accused her, his small eyes hard.

"It is better to leave it be and stall until he runs out of time than to offend the heir to Dale. Men do not take declination well, they feel it as rejection and harbour it long in their hearts. I intend to keep Dale friendly." Matlar was staring at her, uncomprehendingly. "You know nothing of these people, brother."

"Xanthi-"

"Was well aware of what was going on. Now, take me to them." With only a week remaining of their stay, she supposed it was a blessing that no other trouble had broken out. The elves and dwarves had been cordial so far, even if civility had only been hinted at.

Armenion stood with his back to the others who had gathered in the tent, almost seeping back into the shadows she had found him in. On the bench Brand was being tended to by a dark haired woman. Serwen stood at the door, one hand on her sword. Soliel may have been kept out of it but apparently Matlar had failed to keep both interfering ellith away. Yarna ignored her, knowing it was only with the ambassador she could pull rank.

"What happened here?" she asked them. Armenion had turned around and had the good sense to look ashamed of himself briefly.

"He gave insult to the princess," he murmured.

"I don't know what came over your boy, your highness," interjected Brand in Westron. "Perhaps he was not listening when the tournament was cancelled." She looked at him carefully, recreating the blows in her mind. Armenion had cuffed him around the ear and from the way the Man was sitting she guessed a blow to the stomach had occurred, perhaps two.

"Armenion, this is unacceptable." He looked down in shame at her tone. "He is your host." Brand was nodding as if he understood. She longed to reprimand him too, and she would have done had he not been the son of the Bard.

"I hope you will forgive him, he did not grasp the meaning of your comments concerning my daughter. Perhaps you would care to repeat them so that I may enlighten him." Brand did a delightful impression of a caught fish for a moment, finding himself lost for words. The three elves and a rather judgemental looking maid all watched him.

"It is- of no consequence now, your highness." She debated making him squirm further but relented.

"I hope it does not bruise for long," she told him somewhat coldly. "Armenion." Matlar fell into step behind them as they trailed her obediently.

"Did I misunderstand?" the boy asked, looking so contrite and genuinely worried she regretted having to bring him to a place where he did not understand the politics.

"No, but you must not make a quarrel with Brand again, we cannot afford to lose a future ally. Do you understand me? It is vital that we have Dale on our side." She had yet to dispute the sending of the girls to Imladris, despite Legolas telling her to do in his letters. Time when your father did not want you within his realm was limited. She hoped that he would see sense and not argue, not when Laurina and Matlar were in the Halls to help her protect them.

"Go and find somewhere else to be," Matlar told Armenion softly. "Occupy yourself and keep your distance from the Dale Prince." Yarna flicked her head up to signal for him to go and the boy ran off, melding into the shadows seamlessly.

"We cannot leave soon enough," said Matlar as they walked back through the still active streets of Dale, the city never seemed to sleep now as hundreds poured into it.

"There are few negotiations left to complete." Her boots glided on over the muddy stones and she glanced down to assure herself she had not stepped in anything too vile. It was only then that she realised Matlar's boots were no longer in step with hers. He had halted, staring down an alleyway with wide eyes.

"Brother?" He jumped at her voice, taking a moment to wipe the spooked look from his face. "What is wrong?"

"I thought I saw- nothing. An axe in my tree," he murmured. "Or footsteps on my grave as your Men seem to say." He gave her a strained smile. "Good night, Yarna. I should- find Soliel to head this storm off." She watched him go, confused.

Slowly and with slight trepidation she padded towards the alleyway. It was wide enough to walk down comfortably, perhaps not two abreast and otherwise unremarkable. It did not have a particularly poignant scent as many of the small lanes in Dale had. The doors set into the walls, closed and latched leaked light from candles as she swept by. It ended in a tiny courtyard walled on three sides with only a tiny gap between buildings that acted as a cut to the river. Nowhere did she see a reason for Matlar's apprehension, the cul de sac was deserted and ordinary. She turned to retrace her steps only to acquire the chilling sensation of being watched. No windows were occupied, even the shadows were empty and she told herself it was morning more than childish copying of Matlar's fear. Forcing herself not to look back, she returned to the main street with the hairs on her neck bristling uncomfortably.

Author's Note: I have returned *confetti*, sorry for the wait, exams appeared. Nevertheless I am back, hopefully for good!