Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters/settings/plot featured in this story. They all belong to (most likely rolling in his grave) J.R.R. Tolkien.

Act II: The Rogue

Chapter Twelve

It took three days for the investigation into Lord Motvari's crimes to come to a conclusion.

"He will be executed by poison at dawn tomorrow," Dwalin reported grimly to Bilbo as they sat at Dori's table together on the fourth day. "Three other of his closes allies will face the same fate. His son and brothers will be sent to prison along with most of his allies."

Bilbo couldn't help but shake his head in remorse. "That's so sad. What about his wife and youngest son? What will happen to them?"

"I believe she plans to return to the Iron Hills where she originally came from," the guard replied with a heavy sigh that showed he shared the same thoughts as Bilbo. "They will be happier and, indeed, safer there than here. Motvari has made too many enemies with his actions for them to remain safe in Erebor."

Bilbo shook his head again. "That poor family," he muttered to himself as he took a sip of his tea.

Dwalin grunted as he reached into his leather vest to pull out a thick envelope. "I also have your decree here as well," he said, sliding it across the table to the Hobbit. "Thorin had it delivered to me this morning. You have to pay a fine that will be taken out of your pay from the clinic."

Bilbo raised his brows as he stared at the guard over the rim of his mug. "A fine? That's it? I thought I would be punished a bit more harshly," he commented after swallowing down the rest of his tea. "Like serving a prison sentence or something."

Dwalin's bushy brows began to climb his forehead. "Are you kidding me? You saved Kíli's life. You've earned Thorin's goodwill for the rest of your days."

"He loves his nephew that much?" he wondered, tapping an index finger against the clay cup.

"He does," declared the Dwarf with a firm tone that showed no hesitation. "Fíli and Kíli are his laughter and smiles. They are the only ones who can bring him out of a bad mood and the only ones he won't lash out at when angry. Sometimes I think he loves them more than he does his own siblings." Dwalin paused and made a face as he thought over his words. "Not that I blame him. Dís is a bitch to the highest degree and Frerin takes scatterbrained to a whole new level."

Bilbo snorted. "Speaking of siblings, I hear you have an older brother named Balin," he said, leaning back into his chair while trying to look casual and relaxed. "He hired Ori recently. Do you know why?"

"No. He mentioned expanding his staff but didn't say how," the guard replied, his brows beginning their journey north once more. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, it was just a surprise. Ori is a scribe and scholar so it was strange that the Minister of War would recruit him," the Hobbit explained, crossing his arms under each other and tapping his fingers against his elbow.

"Balin likes books even if battle is his true calling," Dwalin admitted, playing with a turquoise bead hanging from his braided beard. "Gets it from our mother; she loved to read and sing. Mahâl only knows what she ever saw in our father with his bloodstained hands and passion for war."

Bilbo sat up straighter in interest. "They were deeply in love then, your parents?" he questioned, curious over the dynamics of the couple. From what he recalled in his conversation with Dori, Fundin had already been married when he began his affair with Dori's mother. He could not imagine what would drive such a straightforward Dwarf to break his vows and take another to his bed, but perhaps Dwarves had different views on such matters.

"Well, my mother certainly was. Practically worshiped my father she was so obsessed with him," the guard explained, frowning slightly at that admission. "Father was certainly fond of her in his own way, but I don't think he ever loved her the way she did him. It's just not in his nature."

"Do you think he ever did? Love someone, I mean," he explained, recalling how sad and desperate Fundin looked when he spoke to Dori on that day a few weeks before. He could not help but think that some of it was tied to the Dwarrowdam who brought Dori into the world.

Dwalin shrugged his massive shoulders. "Who can say? My father is like the stone—unyielding and unchanging. If he ever did love another, he hid it from the rest of the world."

"Oh." Bilbo pushed back his disappointment at the Dwarf's partial answer. "Was theirs an arranged marriage then? Do nobles and royalty do that here?"

"Aye, it was a marriage arranged by their parents," confirmed the Dwarf with a nod. "That practice was more common in my father's days than it is now. Now days the trend is marrying for love and giggles, like how Dís did with Vílin and Glóin with Súna." Dwalin made a face like he had smelt something bad. "Fuck only knows why. Not like love is gonna put food in your bellies."

Bilbo—the product of a love match—decided not to push that topic. "What would you have done if your father had taken a lover while still married?" he asked instead, deliberately widening his eyes so he didn't look suspicious. "Would you be honored bound to kill him or something?"

"What? No, of course not, do we look like reckless Men to you?" Dwalin said, looking at Bilbo as if he had just accused him of shacking up with an Elf. "Marriage issues are between the couple and it is considered rude for anyone else to get involved. Now why do you keep asking me about my parents? Do you know something I don't, Master Baggins?"

"I know a great deal more than you are to ever likely to learn, Master Dwarf," he teased, grinning. "And I told you, my name is Bilbo. Stop calling me 'Master Baggins.' I sound like some stodgy old rich toad when you say that."

"As you say, Master Baggins," Dwalin retorted in a mockingly deeper voice just as there was a knock on the door. They both turned to stare at it before looking back at each other.

"Dori and his brothers aren't due home until late afternoon," the Hobbit said slowly, eyes flickering back to the front door as another series of knocks were heard.

"Stay here," Dwalin ordered, rising to his feet while his free hand went to one of the axes leaning against a leg of the table. Thanks to Dori's orders, he was dressed in only bare leathers instead of his full metal plate that he usually wore. Creeping closer to the door, he growled out a question in his mother tongue and received as exasperated sigh in response.

"Dwalin, it's me," said a young male voice. "Open the door."

Dwalin blinked a few times before abruptly scowling and unlocking the door. He threw it open and glowered down at whoever stood on the doorstep. "Kíli, what are you doing here?" he demanded, placing his free hand on his hip. "And where are your guards?"

"I don't know. I lost them back in the Opal District," replied the young prince, sounding unconcerned even as Dwalin's shoulders and back grew tense. "Is Master Boggins in? I need to speak to him."

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he pulled a leg up to rest against his chest. "It's Baggins and yes, I'm here, Your Highness," he called, raising his voice so he could be heard while wrapping a loose arm around his leg. "Let him in Dwalin. No need to stand there and invite trouble in."

Dwalin turned and met his gaze with a scowl before stepping aside to reveal a grinning Kíli. He was dressed in a plain attire of green and brown leather and had, for once, tied his hair back into a messy bun that was already falling down. With Dwalin out of the way, he skipped into the home without any shame, and over to where Bilbo sat at the table.

"It's good to see you're doing better," he said, bracing his hands on the top of a chair and leaning over the table to smile down at the healer. "I was worried when you fainted on me that night."

Bilbo winced awkwardly at the memory. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was a bit... frazzled," he explained, reaching up to rub his head wound that was still healing.

Prince Kíli's smile widened until it began to resemble more of a smirk. "I picked up on that. Well, come along then. We have an appointment to get to."

"Appointment?" he parroted, sharing a look of confusion with Dwalin.

"With the Blue Iron," clarified the brunet, rocking back on his heels while glancing around the home. "I promised you, remember? If you helped me deal with Motvari, then I would take you to meet the leader of the Blue Iron. Well Motvari has been dealt with so now it's time to go meet the boss! So make yourself pretty and let's get moving."

Dwalin let out a strangled shout. "Kíli, you brat, you promised him that?!" he growled, reaching over and smacking the young prince on the back of the head. "You little idiot! He nearly died just for someone you—!"

"Dwalin, it's all he asked for!" defended Prince Kíli, rubbing the back of his head and stepping back so he wasn't within the guard's reach. "Besides you can hardly blame me for his adventure into Motvari's home! How was I to know he would go so far to honor our agreement?"

Dwalin did not look like he agreed, but before he could reach over and smack the prince again, Bilbo stood up and slammed his hands lightly on the table. "All right now, enough of that. Give me a moment to leave a note for Dori and then we can leave," he said, struggling not to roll his eyes at the antics of the two.

The guard scowled while his prince beamed triumphantly. Bilbo ignored them both as he set about collecting a piece of paper and some writing charcoal from his bag. He wrote a brief message and left it in the center of the table where it would be seen. Satisfied, he pulled on his satchel and turned back to the duo waiting for.

"All right, I'm ready," he said, patting his bag. "Let's go meet the Blue Iron."

The leader of the Blue Iron lived, ironically enough, on the Third Level in the Emerald District with the rest of the nobility. Their home was walled off in a corner of the district; a large and dark building built in a Gothic style that went against the otherwise classical beauty of the Emerald District.

"He says he chose this place it's because it connects to secret tunnels," explained Prince Kíli as he unlocked the gate into the estate. "But personally I think he just likes being dramatic."

The inside of the manor resembled the outside much the same way with dark blue marble floors and obsidian furniture, and rather gruesome artwork of battles and war hanging about. It was all finely crafted and so obviously expensive that Bilbo began to feel a bit like he was back in the palace. He did his best to ignore his stirring anger as he followed the young Dwarf up a flight of shiny stairs, and down a long corridor to a room occupied by a fireplace as tall as an Elf and as wide as a mountain. Sitting before the overly large fireplace was a Dwarf dressed in dark blue robes and black leather. Clearly he was going for a theme here.

When the trio entered the room, the Dwarf looked up from the scroll he was reading, grinned, and tossed it onto the silver table before him. "Kíli, you finally brought him! How wonderful! And Dwalin's here too! This just keeps getting better and better."

The guard snorted while Prince Kíli beamed and skipped over to the new Dwarf while Bilbo lingered behind. "A promise is a promise," he chirped, taking a seat on the arm of the black leather chair the stranger sat in. He turned to Bilbo and waved an eager hand at him. "Come, Master Baggins, and meet my most favorite uncle in the whole world!"

"Don't let Thorin or Vé hear that or you'll never find my body," teased the Dwarf as he turned his bright—and familiar, oh so familiar—blue eyes to Bilbo. His neatly groomed brows inched up as he stared at the Hobbit, and Bilbo noticed that one was pierced with a silver barb. "Hullo there. I'm the leader of the Blue Iron. Most folks call me Boss but I prefer to go by Frerin."

Bilbo's mouth dropped open. "You're Prince Frerin?" he sputtered, pointing at the Dwarf.

Prince Frerin patiently nodded with a small smile. "Yes, I know. I just said that," he commented while Prince Kíli chucked beside him.

Bilbo squinted and took a closer look at the Dwarf. Now that he looked, he could see a resemblance to Thorin and Princess Dís in his sharp cheekbones, pointy nose, and generous mouth. However unlike his darker haired siblings, Prince Frerin hosted a glorious cap of blond locks that fell to his thighs in a coordinated mess of curls and braids. Bilbo couldn't help but stare at it all for a moment; taken back by the sheer length and thickness of it all. Even the Dwarf's beard was a masterpiece of gold thread artfully stitched together in patterns he could only guess at. The best feature of it all though was the color of it—a bright yellow that resembled sunflowers in bloom on a fresh spring day.

"You got the better hair," he finally remarked, meeting Prince Frerin's eyes and holding his gaze. "Feel free to tell your brother I said that. Actually, no, I'll tell him myself. That way I can see his reaction for myself."

Dwalin erupted into a sudden coughing fit that didn't fool anyone in the room.

"Do it when I'm around. I would like to see his reaction myself," advised the prince, his smile growing into a smirk that perfectly mirrored Óin's when he was being a bastard. It was rather alarming to see it on another. "Take a seat, Master Baggins. I believe you and I have much to discuss."

The healer did as told, and sat down in the black chair across from the prince. As he slowly eased back into it, Dwalin suddenly spoke up in Khuzdûl; gesturing to Prince Kíli and pointing behind him. The prince let out a groan and leaned back into his seat and uncle; wrapping his arm around the older Dwarf's shoulders and burying his face in Prince Frerin's hair.

"But I want to stay with Frerin," he whined, sounding like a grumpy toddler being ordered to bed.

Dwalin didn't look fazed or convinced. He spoke again in Khuzdûl and then nodded to Bilbo before giving the young prince a pointed look. Prince Frerin chuckled at whatever the guard had said, and reached up to pat his youngest nephew on the cheek while also saying something in Khuzdûl. Whatever he said made Prince Kíli pout but unwind himself from his uncle, and jump to his feet.

"Fine," he huffed, stomping off for the door. "I'll go back to the palace so Papa won't worry. Bye, Master Baggins! Feel better soon!"

Bilbo, amused and a bit confused, waved goodbye as the prince and guard disappeared. With them gone, he looked back to Prince Frerin, who was still watching him with his Óin smile. "I apologize for my sister's son," he said when he met Bilbo's eyes. "We haven't seen each other for a few days so he's eager to make up for it."

"It's fine. I think it's nice that he has such a good relationship with his uncle," the Hobbit commented with a shrug. "I have to admit though; I'm a bit surprised to see you as the leader of the Blue Iron. I mean, it's an illegal organization isn't it? How can a prince run such a thing?"

"Yes, it is quite a contradiction isn't it?" Prince Frerin mused, tapping one long finger against his lips. "I suppose I should start from the beginning then. But first, would you like some wine?"

The healer shook his head. "No thanks. I'll need my wits for this."

"Suit yourself. Now then let's see... Ah! So once upon a time, in a beautiful kingdom far under the mountain, there lived a handsome and deranged prince named Throrskjald, who one day decided he wanted to be king. Unfortunately the present king—King Thorin I—was still alive and kicking and had no intention of giving away his crown. So in order to gain what he wanted, Throrskjald hired as many swords as he could from all over the kingdom, and then one night stormed the palace."

"Do you have a point with this?" interrupted Bilbo, raising his brows.

Prince Frerin gave him a dry look that reminded him of his mother when she caught him stealing books. "Yes, now don't interrupt," he chided gently, wagging a finger at him. "So the prince stormed the palace with his hired warriors, believing that he could overcome the Royal Guards and murder his father. Unfortunately for him, the King caught wind of his plans, and had set up a trap in order to catch his murderous spawn. Throrskjald realized this too late and was overwhelmed and captured by the Royal Guards; thus ending his coup and attempt at patricide."

"What happened to him?" Bilbo asked, curious despite himself.

"He killed himself while imprisoned," deadpanned the prince with a careless shrug. "Guess he couldn't take the shame of failure. After that, King Thorin named his daughter's husband, Nipvari, as Crown Prince since he had no sons left. Nipvari took on the name Glóin in honor of his new status, and then the King outlawed all hired swords from Erebor. His logic was that, if his son had not had the means to rebel, then he would not have done so."

"Didn't factor in his shitty parenting habits did he?" mused the healer.

The Dwarf shook his head. "Apparently not. But I guess it would be easier to blame everyone else than admit you're in the wrong," he commented dryly. "Anyway, after that King Thorin ran off to Ered Mithrin to cry about his crazy son, and left Erebor behind to become something of an outpost. But even without him here, his word was still upheld, and so mercenaries remained outlawed in the kingdom. But that didn't stop people from forming groups or offering their services for coin. All it did was allow crooks to run around killing and raping people for pay without any boundaries. So in order to stop this, a plan was proposed: create a mercenary group that would run the underworld and form some sort of rules to keep folk in line."

"But why you? Why not have someone less connected to the Royal Family?" questioned Bilbo, leaning forward in his chair.

"On the contrary, it is my ties to my family that makes me the only choice," rebutted the prince, shaking his head and making his sunshine locks slash through the air. "As leader of the Blue Iron I can keep an eye on any secret threats against Erebor, take action where authorities cannot, and protect my family from any sort of danger. But most importantly, my brother knows that I would never try to use the Blue Iron to threaten him or Fíli in any way, whereas another could not guarantee such a claim."

Bilbo nodded slowly, seeing the logic in such an idea. "Does all of your family know about this?"

Prince Frerin blinked in obvious surprise. "Of course! My grand-uncle is the one who started it. It has become something of a family tradition now. Eventually I will pass down leadership to Kíli so that he may protect Erebor when his own older brother takes the throne."

"Huh. That's... very convenient actually," he admitted, bracing his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "Thank you for explaining it all for me, Your Highness. Things make a lot more sense now."

Prince Frerin waved an idle hand as he picked up his goblet of wine. "It was the least I could do," he said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into his chair. "So tell me, how can I help you today, Master Baggins? Kíli told me you had an offer to make?"

"I do. I'm looking for soldiers willing to help in the plight of my people."

"And what is this plight of your people?"

Bilbo closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before releasing it. He then opened his eyes and looked at the prince watching him with the same eyes as Óin and Thorin. "A dragon named Smaug has taken over our homeland, Your Highness," he began quietly. "He drove us out nearly a hundred years ago and we have been scraping by since then. Now, on the eve of a century since our exile, we have finally raised enough funds to challenge him. That is why I am asking you to please accept our offer and fight him for us."

"This is quite a request you make, Master Baggins. I admit, I'm not too sure what to make of it," mused the Dwarf, swirling his goblet and staring down into it as if it held all the answers. "Part of me wants to refuse but another part of me is intrigued by the idea of fighting a dragon. Not many left in the world to battle, you know."

"What must I do then to win your complete acceptance?" asked the healer, refusing to back down.

The blond took a sip of his wine and seemed to think it over while swishing it around in his mouth. Finally he nodded and swallowed. "Well, first of all I must discuss this with my brother and then my captains," he said, tapping his finger against the rim of his cup. "Their opinions are very important factors."

Bilbo nodded, having expected as much. "Of course."

"But, in the meantime, I have an idea that would help your case," added the prince, peering coyly up at him from under his thick lashes. "A little encouragement to my captains in why they should support you."

Bilbo felt something cold slither down his back. "What do you suggest?"

"First let me call in my associate. She's been waiting to meet you," chirped the Dwarf, holding up a hand and turning to a closed door off to the side. "Morwen! You can come in now."

The Hobbit blinked a few times in amusement as the door opened and a Woman entered wearing a scowl. She was tall as any Elf maid and as broad shouldered as any Dwarrowdam, and stood straight with her head held high like a noblewoman. Her skin was pale and her hair a dark brown and tied back in a tight braid that fell down to her knees. She had brown eyes and a thin face accentuated by full, cherry red lips. She wore an elegant green gown with long, wide sleeves edged in gold lace, and around her forehead was a simple gold band with an emerald set in the center. The oddest thing of all though was the bow on her back; black and glossy and nearly as tall as Bilbo, it made him sit up just a bit more in cautious alarm.

"About time, Frerin," she muttered, shooting the prince a scolding look as she came to stand by his chair that she easily towered over. "I have other things to do today then put up with your dramatics."

Prince Frerin rolled his eyes and waved a hand to Bilbo as he took another sip of his wine. Taking his gesture as a sign, the Woman dipped into a graceful curtsy before Bilbo. "Greetings, Master Hobbit. I am Morwen of Dale," she introduced.

Bilbo sat up and gave an awkward half bow of his own. "G-Greetings, my lady. My name is Bilbo Baggins. How can I help you?"

"She's part of the deal I want to propose to you," cut in Prince Frerin before the Woman could even open her mouth. "You see, Lady Morwen's son is the King of Dale."

The Hobbit blinked in surprise. He had not been expecting to hear that. "Really?"

"Yes," confirmed Lady Morwen with a small nod even as she gave the prince a side-eye. "My son, Bard, became king after my husband's unexpected... passing."

"She killed him," translated the Dwarf, swirling his wine and looking altogether bored.

Bilbo nearly fell out of his chair. "What?!"

"He had it coming," reassured Lady Morwen with a nod as if that was the reason for Bilbo's distress and not her blunt admission to murder.

"She pushed him down the stairs after she caught him beating their son. Tragic," added Prince Frerin with all the sympathy and condolences of a Woman at her mother-in-law's wake. "Simply tragic."

"What was tragic was that he thought he could get away with raising a hand to my child," sneered the brunette, raising her head high like the queen she was.

The healer stared between them, unsure of who he should be more afraid of. "Wow. You're both very... open about this," he said slowly, carefully picking his words.

"It's a well-known secret that I killed him," admitted Lady Morwen with a small shrug. "However since there is no actual proof that I was involved, no one can back up the accusations."

"And you're not afraid that I'll go out and tell people you admitted it?" he asked, eyeing up the bow with a bit more fear now.

Lady Morwen smiled. Bilbo had never seen a wolf smile before, but he was rather certain that if they did, then their smiles would greatly resemble the one directed at him now. "Of course not. I am the Queen Dowager and Head of the Merchant Guild in Dale. There's nothing a little thing like you could do that would ever hurt me," the Woman purred, her voice lowering into a seductive husk.

"Wow. A real confident booster aren't you?" Bilbo jeered in order to mask his fear and alarm. "So what do you want with my pathetic little self?"

"It has come to my attention that you ran into some trouble in the Lead District," commented Prince Frerin, taking another sip of his wine and peering over the rim at the healer. "I believe it was with a few members of the Shadow Blades. Correct?"

He glared across at the prince as his fear and alarm began to give away to anger. "How do you know about that?"

The blond gave him another Óin smirk and a wink. "Ahh, luv, I know everything that goes on in this kingdom. The Shadow Blades are a particular interest of mine as they've been trying to muscle their way into Dale and Erebor."

"Which is why I have come here today," interjected Lady Morwen, her face darkening into a scowl. "These insects are a nuisance and I want them removed from my city. And in order to do that we must first take out their nest here in Erebor."

"And that's where you come in," revealed Prince Frerin, toasting his cup to Bilbo. "We want you to find that nest here in Erebor. Sources say it's somewhere in the Lead District but that's all I've been able to weasel out. Every spy I or my lady here have sent down there have gone missing or turned up dead. The Shadow Blades obviously know what I'm up to so I can no longer risk sending my Dwarrows down there."

"Buy you have no problem risking me," he commented, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back into his seat. He regarded the Dwarf in front of him for a moment with a frown before speaking again, "You planned this from the start didn't you?"

"Of course I did. You think I haven't heard of you or your little mission until now? Please, Master Baggins, give me a bit more credit here," Prince Frerin commented, smiling widely enough to show off the dimples in his cheeks. It reminded him of Thorin's awkward smiles, but the stony look to his eyes was all Princess Dís. "I don't believe you to be a bad sort, luv. If anything, I think you are a very kind individual. But you are still a stranger asking me to put my Dwarrows in harm's way for a land we've never even heard of. If you want us to risk so much for your people, then you must show me that you are willing to do the same."

Bilbo sighed, and dropped his head back against his seat. Alright, he could see Prince Frerin's point. He was asking a lot of the Blue Iron even with his offer of gold on the table. It was only sensible that the Dwarf would be hesitant to accept such an agreement without some sort of reassurance that Bilbo wasn't jerking him around.

"I understand. I will do as you ask. I will find the headquarters of the Shadow Blades for you," he declared with a nod. Then, before the two could do anything more than begin to smile, he pointed one finger at Lady Morwen. "But if I do this than I want you to provide me with soldiers too. At least five hundred Men, no exceptions."

"Are you trying to bargain with me?" said the Woman, her dark brows going high as the corner of her mouth curled up into a smirk. At her side, Prince Frerin went very still as he watched the Hobbit over the rim of his cup.

Bilbo nodded firmly, refusing to be unnerved by the noblewoman before him. "Correct. I know Dale has few warriors to offer but I will take whatever I can from you. I also want a contract drawn up with both of you stating that you will provide me with the warriors I need."

Prince Frerin suddenly snorted into his wine; splashing it all over his beard and making it look like he was sprinkled in blood. He didn't seem to care as he continued to giggle, and had to cover his mouth to keep them down. "Oh, you are a bold one, Master Baggins," he snickered, watching the healer with softer blue eyes. "I see now why so much of my family likes you."

"Thanks," he said dryly, rolling his eyes. "So do we have a deal?"

"Not so fast, boyo. If you're changing things up, than I want to add something in," declared the queen, her wolf smile appearing once more.

He nodded, having expected as much. "Fine. What is it?"

"All I ask for is a promise," began Lady Morwen, slowly, as she stared into Bilbo's eyes with her own dark pair. "Should the day ever come, I want your word that you will help my son in anything that he may ask of."

Bilbo blinked rapidly for a moment, completely taken back by the request. "What? That's what you want?"

"Yes." Lady Morwen didn't so much as blink as she stared down at him. She looked perfectly relaxed. "A promise is a very precious thing, boyo, and I am lacking in souls that I can completely trust. Your word that you will do anything for my son would be a great relief to me as a mother."

"Wow, you're really milking this doting mother routine aren't you?" muttered the Hobbit, scratching at his thigh where he had been injured. It still itched even with the stitches removed. "Very well then, if that's what you really want. But he cannot call on me until after Smaug has been dealt with. After that he can do whatever he wants."

Lady Morwen's wolf smile grew into one that would probably be more fitting on a bear. "Then you have yourself a deal, Master Baggins."

Dwalin returned shortly after the contracts had been drawn up and worked out and signed by all parties involved. Bilbo—exhausted and tense from arguing and haggling over prices with Prince Frerin—happily followed the guard out of the estate and back to the Tin District. It was already late afternoon by then, and the streets were filling up with Dwarves of all types heading home from another day at work. Bilbo stuck close to Dwalin, and for once was grateful that he had the guard around to push his way through the crowds.

"You look tired. Was Frerin that much of a pain to deal with?" asked the Dwarf after they had left the Emerald District behind.

"Yes," he answered bluntly, not even bothering to lie. "Your prince is ruthless when it comes to his company and money. I thought you said he was a scatterbrain?"

"He is. Just not with business," explained Dwalin, nudging a passing Dwarf away with his shoulders. "It's emotions and people he's dense about. The fool can look at a battle and find every weak point of his enemies and exploit it to his advantage. But put a pretty Dwarrowdam fluttering her eyelashes in front of him and he'll ask her if she has something in her eye."

"So he's like his brother then," translated Bilbo, dryly.

Dwalin didn't even bother trying to mask his smirk. "He's exactly like his brother. Thank Mahâl for Dís or those two idiots would have been tricked into some sort of marriage long ago."

"Scandalous," remarked the Hobbit with smirk that perfectly matched the guard's. "How did Thorin ever get the throne with such denseness?"

"Because Dís wasn't born with anything dangling between her legs," Dwalin answered bluntly, and Bilbo couldn't think of a more accurate answer.

When they arrived back to the 'Ri home, they found all three brothers already home and bustling about. Bilbo told them the basics of what had gone down with Prince Frerin and Lady Morwen while leaving out certain details like Prince Frerin's real identity, and his vow to Lady Morwen. At the end of it the three brothers were staring at him with a range of different emotions.

"How do you manage to find these people? I've lived here my whole life and I've never even seen Lady Morwen in passing," complained Ori as he sketched out what looked like the beginnings of a market at the main table.

"I think I'm going to take up drinking. That's the only way I can deal with the combined antics of you and Nori," muttered Dori as he went about cleaning the house.

Bilbo ignored them both and focused on Nori, who was the only one who didn't look too bothered by his adventure to Prince Frerin's estate. "What do you know about Lady Morwen?" he asked, leaning his head against Ori's shoulder as he half-watched the young Dwarf work magic on the paper.

"Who doesn't know about her? She's the biggest scandal in Dale," said Nori as he munched on an apple in the kitchen. "She was the former concubine of the last King of Dale who managed to wiggle her way into becoming his wife after the first one died for 'reasons unknown.' She got pregnant quickly and gave birth to a son, and then a few years later 'offed her husband and placed her son on the throne. Now she's the Queen Dowager and pretty much rules the kingdom through her son."

"A very busy Woman," commented Dori as he dusted one of the portraits on the wall with a rag.

"You're very informed for a lowlife thief," stated Dwalin as he stared at Nori from his place at the table with Ori and Bilbo.

Nori flashed him a toothy grin. "Even lowlife thieves talk, Master Guard," he sneered before biting into his apple.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes but didn't get the chance to speak as Dori—who was gliding by—smacked him on the back of the head with his rag. "Be nice to my lowlife thiefling brother," he ordered, not looking at all remorseful for his actions.

Dwalin rubbed his head and scowled at the weaver as he began to dust down the coat stand. "You know I can have you arrested for assaulting a noble," he grumbled without any real heat. Bilbo was beginning to suspect he was getting used to Dori's bossy ways, and actually enjoyed being treated like one of his little brothers.

"Please go ahead and try. I would love to see how that turns out," Dori shot back in a monotone.

"I'm going to have to return to the Lead District. That's where the Boss said I would find the hideout of these Shadow fools," Bilbo commented, handing Ori a piece of drawing chalk as it began to roll away. "I don't really want to go back though. I don't know what I'll find this time."

"Good because you're not going back," said Nori through a mouthful of apple. "You've been banned, remember?"

"Nori, for Mahâl's sake, don't speak with your mouth full," Dori ordered, flashing his brother a disgusted look. "No one wants to see that. And he's right, Bilbo, you're not going back in there. This time they may just finish the job."

"Then how do you propose that I go about getting the Blue Iron and Lady Morwen's support?" asked the Hobbit, rolling his eyes and pushing away one of Ori's braids that was tickling his cheek. "Because that's the whole reason I came to Erebor to begin with you know."

"You should try asking Thorin," advised Dwalin as he titled his head to the side in order to get a clearer look at Ori's picture. "He'd probably bully his brother into it for you."

Dori tripped on the leg of a chair while Nori dropped his apple, and Ori paused in his sketch to stare at Bilbo with a brow arched high. "When did you meet the King?" he asked plainly.

"Ask Thorin—why would Bilbo be asking the King for anything?!" sputtered Dori as he turned on a rapidly paling Dwalin who looked like he was regretting his career choice.

"Fuck that—why would the King even care about Bilbo's problems?!" demanded Nori, stalking over to the table to loom over Dwalin and Bilbo both.

The healer gave a disgusted huff. "You just had to open your big mouth didn't you?" he grumbled, pushing off of his comfortable perch and rising to his feet. He turned around and marched off for his room while waving a dismissive hand behind him. "Well, since you brought it up, you get to explain it to them. I'm going to go take a nap. Wake me when dinners ready!"

So Frerin—much like Dís—is based on multiple aspects displayed by Thorin/Fíli/Kíli in cannon. In this case I focused more on Thorin since they're brothers, but I also added some of traits from the boys. He has his own unique traits to him too because he's his own person, but for the most part I try to base characters like him—cannon but nonexistent in terms of personality—on already established characters who hold a connection to them.

Now Morwen is simply Bard with boobs. No, seriously, she's the female version of Bard only with more bloodlust and less patience for her enemies. I did this because I like the idea of him looking like a carbon copy of his father, but is totally his mother's son in terms of personality. Plus, Bard is such a good father, and I wanted to reflect that in his mother even if she is a bit more violent about it.

Silver pup