Nothing embarrassed Thorin Oakenshield. He could be frustrated, surprised, shocked, sad, happy and had proven to one and all that he could even go mad. And return. But not once since the desolation brought about by a dragon had he allowed himself to be embarrassed.
Others thinking he was too ragged looking to be royal? Bah. Others underestimating his strength or resolve? It mattered not, and they often ended up eating their words.
Pride he had more than enough of within him. Even at his lowest, his pride had only grown. He'd been dirt poor, hungry, needing to bend his back to hard work or his knee to plea for scraps from human merchants in order to make sure his people did not starve. Especially in those first few years of exile.
But embarrassment was a luxury he could not afford, not then and not now. His way? Never accept what was before him, always strive for more, for better. For his people first, then his family, and lastly for himself.
So the fact that the Blacklock delegation arrived as his sister's-son was in the middle of courting and kissing a she-elf? Not something he would have wanted to show them. But he wasn't going to be caught like a dwarfling stealing pies from his dam's kitchen.
Thorin straightened his back and turned to watch the new arrivals. He did not know who the Blacklocks would have sent to represent their family, but was not surprised to see Himlis Blacklock come striding through the front doors of Erebor. Disappointed, but not surprised.
Nearly as tall as Thorin and burly through the chest, the warrior arrived grinning from ear to ear. His white teeth gleaming through the fullness of his dark brown beard. Two rows of emeralds no doubt once mined from Erebor's depths, graced the middle of the braids that framed his chin and travelled nearly to his belt.
He was the best warrior the Blacklocks had. And his presence changed everything.
"Well met, cousin! Well met!" Himlis threw wide his arms, his heavy cloak trailing behind him like wings on a particularly ugly and bearded bat. With emeralds. Thorin snorted at the mental image.
"Cousin?" He asked, making no movement forward. "Has there been a marriage between our families that I am of yet not aware? For we share no blood."
Himlis' smile never dimmed, nor did his approach slow. "We are all dwarves of the same Maker, are we not? And future alliances can be gainful for both."
Thorin turned fully toward the newcomer as his Company moved up beside him, sensing his tension.
Himlis finally slowed as he neared their group, the rest of the newcomers trailing behind the colorful and powerful warrior with his large battle axe strapped across his back. Thorin took note of who was arriving, though his attention didn't waver from the large dwarf before him.
When the king did not speak, Himlis looked around the hall with great interest. "Clean up has begun?"
Thorin nodded his head regally, but did not speak.
"And alliances made with Elves. I see them gathered behind you." Himlis continued, even as Gresol Blacklock finally caught up with him. This dwarrow was pinched looking, with eyes set too closely together and lines in his face making him look old before his time. He was slighter of stature and carried a single sword, not the great axe of the Blacklock warrior.
At first glance, one might consider Himlis the greater threat. One would be wrong. And Thorin knew it.
Himlis, still receiving no answer, continued as if nothing were awkward between them. "So! Did the damned dragon leave you anything good? Or have you traded it all to the elves for a bit of protection?"
No one from Erebor or the Iron Hills reacted, showing the dour and expressionless faces that dwarves were known for across Arda. Thorin did not agree nor disagree with Himlis' assumption of an elven alliance.
"I see warriors of the Iron Hills, but not their commander." Himlis leaned forward with a sudden frown that did not match the light in his gray-green eyes. "Dain is well I am hoping?"
Thorin fought not to sneer. Knowing full well that there was no love lost between Himlis and Dain, and any hope the warrior had was not for wellbeing. "More than well." He said vaguely.
Not getting any responses such as he was looking for, Himlis drew back up and smiled again. "Good! Grand!"
Dwalin stirred from his place next to the king. "We were told you have wounded?"
Himlis startled then shrugged, it was Gresol who answered in a nasally voice which was due to an unfortunately poor setting of a broken nose in years gone by. "Some, yes. Thank you. Mostly the wounded were from immigrants returning to Erebor."
"You know the kind, Thorin. Those cowards who would come back now that the true warriors have freed the home." Himlis chuckled.
Thorin stiffened at the dismissive tone. "You speak of Longbeards?"
Dwalin growled.
Himlis hesitated, realizing too late that he might have misspoken. "The only true Longbeards are those that chose to follow you to the Mountain. Cousin." His tone turned placating.
"I have my cousins with me." Thorin gestured with contained grace toward those standing with him. Dwalin grinned fiercely while the others nodded their heads very slightly. "So. To your count, there are only thirteen true Longbeards and all others count for naught?"
Himlis turned in a circle, rudely putting his back toward the new King Under the Mountain as he finished his movement. In the end he looked toward Thorin and raised a single brow. "Are you not protecting your home with Dain's warriors and elves? Where are the vaunted Longbeards?" His eyes were widened in an exaggerated display as he indicated all the armored dwarrow surrounding them.
Thorin did not rise to the bait. "How many did you bring?" Gresol made a movement to still Himlis' tongue, for all the good it did him.
The arrogant warrior grinned, unable to remain silent. "I have three hundred and fifty battle toughened dwarrow under my command to gift to you in order to help secure …your …home." He made the offer with a smile and a regal bow.
The king nodded most thoughtfully. "Supplies?"
"Basics, for travel." Himlis shrugged off the question as nothing, missing the point entirely.
Dwalin's jaw clenched. Gresol's eyes blanked for a moment, but he said nothing.
Thorin shook his head. Himlis never had been the brightest of the Blacklocks. He had no clue what information he'd just gifted them with. "Well. I must apologize for our mean welcome."
Himlis paused, listening. Still grinning.
"Your warriors will need those supplies, for all our space is taken up by Dain's dwarrow. They will need to set up camp outside the walls. Make sure to mount adequate guards. We've had recent …troubles." Thorin started to turn away, as if dismissing them.
Himlis' grin finally slipped halfway. "Outside? Surely my people can assist in clearing out enough space. In the old days Erebor was large enough to house us all and more besides."
"In the old days." Thorin agreed without further elaboration.
The grin disappeared. Himlis shifted his weight slightly. "Our wounded?"
Thorin grunted, quickly considering his options. "Our sick halls are empty, but well stocked and supplied. They will find succor here." He paused most deliberately. "And the Longbeard wounded as well."
Balin's ears perked up at the mention of the sick halls being empty. He knew a cue when he heard one. "I will alert the healers." The advisor bowed to Thorin and backed away.
Thorin relaxed slightly. He knew that Balin had caught on. By the time the wounded arrived in the sick halls, there would be no sign of either prince having spent a single moment there. Fili and Kili would be quietly moved, probably back to their own rooms. It might stretch the healing staff. But he'd allow none of the Blacklocks near his sister-sons. Not now.
Gresol made a throat clearing sound, sliding a quick look to his side at his nephew. "Himlis, make the camp. Thorin. Perhaps a quick, and private walk?" He invited, trying to look open and sincere.
Thorin Oakenshield drew up, his eyebrows rising. "I have been called this day by my proper name for which familiarity I have not given allowance, familial ties which do not exist, and been offered an invitation of a private chat."
Gresol hesitated, as if waiting in anticipation.
Himlis looked confused. "I know your name, well enough. Cousin."
Thorin shook his head, his dark-blue eyes flashing with temper. "No, apparently you don't. I am King Thorin II, King Under the Mountain, son of Thrain and heir to the throne of King Thror, Ruler of Erebor and the Lonely Mountain, End of the Line of Durin. I wear the crown and the Eye of Durin."
Himilis hissed and stepped back as Thorin stepped forward.
"I am not now, nor have ever been your ….cousin."
"Thorin …" Himlis pleaded with faked humility, for there wasn't a humble bone in his body.
"King Thorin." Dwalin snapped angrily. "Have you no ears to hear?"
"We come offering help and assistance and this is how you treat us?" Himlis continued, while Gresol simply listened.
"Help? Assistance?" Thorin roared while the entire hall fell silent. "You arrive with over three hundred battle toughened warriors in such a timely manner that you would have had to have left your home lands BEFORE our battle here was done."
Gloin spoke up into the silence that fell over the group. "If memory serves, which it does, then you and yours refused any aid on our endeavor. No word came to us that you had changed your mind and were coming to …assist. So. Why march after the deeds are done? Timed to get here before we have a chance to make ready our home for visitors?"
"Because they didn't come to be …visitors." Thorin bit off the last word with true venom.
Dwalin sneered. "Did you think that if we failed you could possibly take the dragon if we'd weakened him? Or that if we'd succeeded there would only be thirteen of us to face the three hundred and fifty of you?"
Thorin nodded grimly. "Did you think to measure my throne for your ass, Himlis? Or his?" He pointed toward Gresol.
The tall warrior clenched his jaw, but didn't answer beyond a glare.
"Mine." Gresol answered coldly. "He wants me away from the clan leadership now that he is the Blacklock leader. His father has gone to the Halls of the Waiting."
Startled at the candid answer, the king blinked twice before responding. "Smart. Smartest move that Himlis could make." Thorin sneered, then bowed his head. "I sorrow to hear of your father's passing. Though it is troublesome that this wasn't news you passed along first. But I find my sympathy is measuring rather short and I do not find it in me to gift you with my father's and grandfather's throne."
Dwalin nodded slowly. "Cagey dwarf, your father." He said to Himlis before turning cold eyes onto Gresol. "And while you would take the throne, he carts the treasure back home?"
The older dwarf bowed his head archly.
"How disappointed you must be to find us hale and whole, and not crunchy and roasted." Thorin said quietly.
"Indeed." Gresol nodded as if to a worthy adversary. "Still. Not all of our eggs are in that particular nest. Himlis' sister is with us and is as yet, unmarried. You were once wanting to meet her if memory serves." His eyes slid coolly over to Gloin. "Which it does."
Thorin grunted. "No. No I wasn't wanting to meet her so much as I was insulted that an introduction wasn't given, despite my bloodlines." The King smiled grimly. "I took it then, and now, that you deemed me unworthy. So if you look to make Himlis' sister bait on a hook, spare yourselves the trouble."
"It would be a good alliance." Gresol said smoothly. He did not state the obvious that Thorin with a treasure and a kingdom was a much better match than Thorin without such.
The King Under the Mountain shook his head. "I have no need to meet her." He then bowed graciously. "But I would welcome her to Erebor as a guest until you and yours return home."
Himlis' ruddy face darkened. "You would not have her inside with all of your dwarrow without Blacklock guards?"
"You trust me to court her, but not to protect her?" Thorin's eyebrows winged up in feigned surprise. "Fine. She can stay in your camp with your guards." He paused, pretending to think. "The camp you haven't begun to set up yet. It does grow late you realize."
Himlis drew back in affront, glaring. Thorin winked at him, unaffected.
Gresol sighed heavily and spread his hands to show them unarmed. "Is this necessary?"
"You rode to take my kingdom and my throne for yourselves? Yes. I do feel that it is." Thorin smiled grimly.
"Fair enough." Gresol returned the king's smile, something predatory within the depths of his dark, beady eyes. "If you do not seek to wed, I happen to know your heirs are as yet unattached."
Himlis made a noise of protest, but fell silent as his uncle shot him a quick glare.
"I would have spoken with you in private, but public won't change the words on my tongue." The older dwarf continued, his voice even and modulated to show graciousness. Making Thorin even more alert.
He felt, rather than saw, both Fili and Kili moved up on either side of him. Supporting their uncle and king. The other members of the Company shifted to make room without comment. It was their place at his side. It soothed his nerves more than a little, especially with Kili so distracted by the bright shiny new bead in his hair. Even with the lovely Tauriel to pull his attention, the lad knew where to take a stand.
Gresol's eyes flicked to one, then the other. If his eyes lingered on Kili for a second it was barely perceptible. "Fine lads." He commented with chilled reserve.
"They are." Thorin agreed, his jaw tight as he waited for whatever the Blacklock had to say.
"Too bad they aren't directly descended from Durin." Himlis's lips stopped barely shy of a sneer.
"Do you call my sister's parentage into question?" Thorin replied in a voice dripping with warning.
"He does not." Gresol sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "My brother's son speaks from a lack of understanding."
"He's an idiot." Dwalin commented.
Himlis growled, but stilled at a movement of his uncle's hand. Gresol's eyes glittered with dark intent as he looked over at the tattooed warrior. "Any other time and I would allow him to duel with you over such an insult. However, considering that we rode to take your throne, today we will let it pass."
"Considering." Fili spoke up, repeating the word as he crossed his arms. "It's the truth. Do either of you question the Lady Dis as a direct descendent of Durin the Deathless?"
"No." Gresol allowed with a small smile that did not reach his eyes.
"They are my heirs, their bloodline is direct." Thorin said very loudly. "And your insults were first given the moment you set foot off of your own lands. Do not forget, you may have three hundred and fifty of your best warriors. But I have with me five hundred of Dain's." He stepped forward menacingly.
"Not to mention the fact that my company of thirteen faced down a dragon. They have no fear of you and yours compared to that." Thorin fairly boasted.
"And you have the elves?" Gresol asked pointedly, his eyes lingering on the small bead in Kili's braids. "You brilliantly traded your younger heir for strength of arms with allies, rather than lose any of your gold and treasure?"
Kili stiffened, but stilled as Gloin put his hand on his shoulder to steady the more reckless lad. His fingers tightened, as if to convey the message to not react yet. Kili took a ragged breath, but did not move or speak.
"You know nothing and shouldn't speak without facts." Thorin said coldly.
Gresol smiled, shaking his head. "So. That isn't a courting bead in the she-elf's hair that I see? And one in your heir's?" He paused for dramatic effect. "I haven't been out living among the humans such as you have, and I recognize her braids and their significance."
Dwalin bared his teeth, but it was Gloin who answered. "What business is it of yours?" He may not be as won over as the rest of the Company on this courtship thing. But by damned he wasn't going to let a Blacklock speak ill of any of theirs.
Gresol shrugged and looked over at the elves, who had not moved since the new dwarves had arrived. "Did you tell the Elves that the true worth of a dwarrow is measured in many ways, but the most important is bloodline?"
Thorin clenched his teeth before attempting an answer, to keep any rash and angry words at bay. Instead it was Lord Celeborn who spoke up first. "We are aware."
"And are you as aware that if you bargain for the king's younger heir, you may not be getting all that you think?" The Blacklock continued with spite in his eyes and voice.
Kili drew in a quick breath and tensed as if to move, but Gloin's hand tightened on his shoulder while Thorin slid his eyes over to meet the youth's pained expression. Kili settled once more, though with obvious reluctance.
Thorin wanted to reassure his sister-son, but didn't wish to speak aloud. He narrowed a glare upon his young prince, a caution to stay calm. He then turned his eyes toward Fili. But the blond didn't look angry, he looked …eager. Thorin nodded, pleased. At least this nephew could see where this was going too. If. If Kili didn't explode first.
"Dwarves put great stock into parentage and singing songs of our ancestors." Gresol said with a widening smile. "The current King Under the Mountain may not have explained certain things to you before you made your …bargain."
Lord Celeborn did not deign to speak again, but it quickly became obvious the dwarf was expecting some sort of answer. It was one of the twins who finally spoke. "Your words play with hints and do not make their meaning known."
Kili relaxed, his breathing easing, much to Thorin's relief. The lad had clearly heard the careful tightness in Elrohir's voice.
"Did they tell you of young Prince Kili's bloodlines?" Gresol said with a sneer over at King Thorin and his Company, as if he was anticipating reluctance from that quarter.
But the dwarvish king had no intention of stopping Gresol's words.
This time it was Elladan who stirred, speaking. "No. Tell me of the prince's bloodline." He invited, no emotion in his voice.
Kili apparently had a new problem, trying not to laugh or smile in anticipation. Thorin slid his eyes toward his nephew and saw the lad literally biting his lip to keep from speaking. His dark eyes moved to his uncle with a mute apology for almost losing control of the moment. Thorin jerked his head in a simple nod.
"Do you really want to know?" Gresol mocked. "It's more than the rest of Arda knows. The Lady Dis has never said who fathered her youngest. He claims bloodline through her and her brother."
Galadriel's silky voice showed no hints of her thoughts on the subject matter at hand. "Her bloodline is admirable."
Fili fixed his eyes on the far wall, to keep from giving away the moment too soon. If he looked at either Blacklock he'd lose it.
The elves said nothing more. They simply stared at Gresol and Himlis with apparent dispassion.
"Perhaps the nashatal would like to reconsider her choice of suitor?" Himlis now spoke, smirking over at the red-headed she-elf.
Tauriel was used to watching high-level events happen around her as she guarded her former-king. Not being part of such things. She held her temper and her tongue, for she sensed undercurrents.
Thorin was pleased with the she-elf's silence.
Gresol smiled greasily over at her. "If they didn't tell you, the exchange of the courtship bead is only the start of the process. You can back out at any time. Unless you wish for him to court you."
Tauriel tilted her head slightly, letting the light catch the beads decorating her flame colored hair. She let the moment drag on for a lengthy pause, then said simply, "yes."
Himlis frowned, unsure if she meant yes to the courtship or yes to the backing out. "You have several ways you could react."
Dwalin nearly choked on a startled laugh and all eyes turned to him. Not perturbed at all, the bald warrior grinned. "The only course of action she is currently contemplating is whether to serve up kidney or liver first."
Fili said dryly. "I like kidney pie."
Balin shook his head, but if anyone expected soothing words from the king's advisor, they would have to live in disappointment. "I prefer my livers sautéed with onion."
Ignoring the talk around them, Thorin suddenly grinned widely. "Glorfindel? I can still set up a meeting for you." He teased, reminding the elf warrior of his desire to possibly woo the Blacklock heiress to have access to their fine wines.
"I humbly withdraw my offer." Came the droll response from the golden-haired hero of old. "If so permitted."
Unsure why things weren't going as he'd intended, Gresol stared at the elves. Who were not responding as he'd thought. "What did the king offer you as allies? Marriage to his heir? The one he gave you is flawed nor the crown prince. He is a no-name bastard of questionable descent who will never sit any dwarven throne! You make an ill bargain!"
The elves all looked at each other, as if communicating silently.
Himlis ground his teeth together audibly. "Stupid elves." He muttered under his breath, clearly not realizing how excellent elven hearing could be.
Dwalin laughed again and rubbed his bald head. "Run." He advised lightly.
Kili laughed, all of his good humor returned.
Both twins straightened, and would have moved forward. They each stopped, although appearing reluctant. As one, they turned and looked toward the parents of their mother.
Surprisingly to Thorin, it was Lord Celeborn and not his golden-haired wife, who stepped forward. The tall, arrogant elf lord moved with grace and surety.
"I am the Lord of Lothlorien, Celeborn of the Golden Wood. Lord of the Galadhrim. Formerly the Lord of Eregion and Prince of Doriath."
It was that last name that had Gresol's eyes finally blinking in some unease. He flicked a look at Thorin, and was not reassured by the nearly smug smile the king was wearing.
"My wife is Galadriel. The Lady of the Golden Wood." He paused most deliberately. "Or perhaps you know her as the Witch of the Wood. To our people though, she is the Lady of Light."
Both Blacklock males sent nervous glances at the lady in question, who never moved.
"Our daughter, Celebrian wed Lord Elrond of Rivendell." The tall silver-haired elf spread his arms to indicate the twins and Lady Arwen. "These are her three children, the light in their eyes sing to our blood as children of our line. Do you doubt me?"
Gresol waited, but no one could outwait an elf. He frowned and finally cleared his throat. "Fine bloodlines. I have no doubt. So all the more important not to ally yourselves to someone whose own bloodlines are hidden from view."
Elladan moved forward next, coming to stand behind Kili. Gloin's hand fell away from the lad's shoulder as he made room for the taller elf lord. "Would not the joining of my bloodline with that of Durin's Line be something to value?"
"It's a trick question, Master Dwarf." A new voice rang through the hall.
All eyes turned to the stately white haired male moving toward them with a stride that made a lie of his aged appearance.
"Saruman." Lord Celeborn acknowledged in greeting, but did not bow. "You travel with …these?"
The head of the wizarding order did not bother to look embarrassed at all, though he denied the charge. "I travelled, they travelled. Our travel happened to be heading to the same place. A fortunate turn of events as our paths crossed with companies of goblins and wargs along the way." His tone of voice dismissed his dwarvish companions as of little consequence. "I have made the wounded as comfortable as I can."
Thorin made a gesture to Oin, who nodded and headed out to see to those wounded.
Gresol held up a hand to stop them, earning himself a glare from his own Blacklock nephew. The older dwarrow dropped his hand and head in mute apology for overstepping himself. Himlis grimaced, but then nodded imperiously.
Oin rolled his eyes and continued outside to see to the wounded.
"You shared your bread and wine with this weary old man." Saruman didn't do humble well, but he made an effort. "So I will do you one final favor. Elladan is of one of the finest Elven bloodlines in Middle Earth. And I was witness to his wedding nearly eight decades ago. To the Lady Dis, Princess of Erebor."
Gresol's eyes closed in resignation as the news sunk in. Himlis actually swayed.
Saruman smiled very slightly. "I was unaware that the Lady Dis had given birth to a son from that marriage, however."
Kili grinned widely and winked at Himlis, who was turning greener by the moment. Elladan's hands moved to rest quietly on his son's shoulders.
"I do not sense Gandalf in residence here." Saruman commented to the leaders of Lothlorien.
Galadriel smiled sadly. "Lord Elrond and Gandalf have both left. We were not expecting you here."
"Morder awake? Of course this is where I would arrive." Saruman protested. "I have …I would speak with the White Council on this matter."
Lord Celeborn bowed his head in friendship. "Of course." He waved a hand at the newly arrived dwarves. "No more of this matter needs to be discussed."
"I do not agree." Elrohir said coldly, his temper still running high.
"Child." Galadriel began.
"No." Elladan interrupted rudely, his hands pressing more firmly onto Kili's shoulders. His eyes pinned Himlis, and then he waited for Gresol to finally look upon him. "Any insult upon Kuilaith, even if you use the name Prince Kili of Erebor, it does not matter ….any insult to him is an insult to I and my bloodline."
"Durin's Line too." Fili interjected loudly.
"We did not know." Gresol said weakly.
Gloin grunted and Balin gave a small smile of consolation. "It appears you did not know much. Such as Erebor still stands and is not as unprotected as you might have thought. That Kili of Durin's Line is also known as Kuilaith of …."
"Rivendell." Elrohir supplied smoothly, as if simply finishing the sentence for the other male.
"He has never laid eyes on Rivendell!" Himlis asserted, pointing a finger at the dark eyed youth now laughing silently at him.
"And I swear to you by Durin's Axe and Blood that he has." Thorin said matter-of-factly. He didn't mention when or that they'd all snuck out, or that none of them had been aware at the time of the relationship between father and son.
Fili grinned. "He even bathed in their giant fountain." Deliberately telling the truth in such a way to mislead.
Elrohir blinked at that one and Elladan's hands tightened on his son's shoulders, but he didn't say anything on the matter. Not yet. Later maybe, without too many interested ears listening in on them. "Tauriel? Do you believe my son's bloodlines to be lacking in any way?"
"No." Came the immediate and measured response from the she-elf, and then she could not seem to stop herself from continuing. "And I while I have never had a love for liver with onions, I would be more than willing to give it another chance."
Her jewel-bright eyes were on the Blacklock males, and her smile was more than a little predatory in nature.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Sealyn Heavyaxe turned her head and spit outwards to clear her mouth of dirty water that had just splashed her in the face. She couldn't use her hands as they were liberally coated with the same muck.
The middle-aged Blacklock warrior dropped his shamed gaze from meeting her clear hazel eyes as he mumbled an apology for 'not looking' as he emptied the small container.
Brunere held her breath as she took in her friend's distressed appearance.
Sealyn held up the clean bandages she'd been preparing, and let them dangle from her now dirty fingers. It was obvious that these strips wouldn't be used to bind any wounds, not unless she wanted them infected rather than healing.
The warrior moved away quickly, leaving the two dwarrowdam with the wounded Grimbasher leader. Brunere's father grimaced, but bit back any oaths he might have uttered if not in the presence of young females.
"That was on purpose!" Brunere hissed.
Sealyn stepped away from the open wounds of the male before trying to clean off her hands. "These are wasted. I need to get some more."
Brorgic Grimbasher winked at his daughter in order to reassure her. Brunere smiled wanly back at him. "I guess Sealyn is more of a threat than I am, since they leave me clean." She tried to make a joke out of it.
"You are a treasure. Mine." The Grimbasher said through gritted teeth. "And both of you young dwarrowdams are a threat to their plans to marry off the Blacklock heiress."
Sealyn found a small container of clean water to rinse off her hands so she could find more bandages without ruining them. "It's a good thing Erelinde is hooded right now. Who knows what these monsters would do to HER if they saw her."
"Yer all lovely." Avowed the proud father as Brunere went back to stitching his wound.
"And yer my da." Mimicked the young Grimbasher daughter with no little smile. She knew her looks were rather on the plain side, not bad but nothing spectacular. Still, she knew her worth and lacked no bit of pride in her bloodlines. "Missed the artery."
"Liar." Her father teased. "That's why I bound it."
"Nicked the artery." Amended his daughter, flicking a worried look up at his face and finding it too pale for her liking. "And you should stay off of it."
Sealyn smiled at her friend, trying to lend support. "Mahal wouldn't take him to the Halls just yet. He'd only make trouble there."
Brunere didn't smile, but did flash a grateful look to her best friend.
A different dwarrow came up to them, this one from their own town and sporting a large lump on his forehead with a swollen eye. "They're letting the wounded into Erebor's healing halls."
The two dwarrowdams shared a relieved look and started getting ready to move their efforts inside.
"Not you two. Hardly wounded are you?"
At the snarly voice of the Blacklock lieutenant, both dwarrowdams turned around in indignation. Temper fair danced in their eyes as they stared at the dwarrow, but he didn't back down.
"Everyone else makes camp out here."
"He's my da!" Protested Brunere, her hands still bloody from the stitchery she'd been working on.
"Not my rules." The Blacklock dwarf shrugged off her words as nothing to him. "I have my orders."
Sealyn curled her lip in disgust. "Blacklock orders or Erebor?" She pushed.
The dwarrow turned away from her rudely. "Orders." He reiterated.
Erelinde, still covered in the over-large cloak and hood her father had pressed on her, hurried up to them. "Blacklock guards are standing down our people around our goods."
Brorgic's dark eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I went to take father some soup and he was arguing with them. They were surrounded."
The Blacklock dwarrow turned back to them. "Don't want Erebor to just take what isn't theirs."
Brorgic swung his legs off the makeshift camp bed they'd set up for him, paling even further at the pain. Still, he was a dwarf. He gritted his teeth and said not a word of discomfort. "Our goods do not belong to the Blacklocks, and you lot have no reason nor right to make any decisions on our behalf."
"We came with those goods FOR Erebor." Protested Sealyn.
"And Erebor appreciates that."
Everyone stiffened as a new dwarrow moved into their conversation. This one was rather tall for a dwarf, with long wavy dark hair thick on his head and only weighted down by a crown worth than one hundred times their trade goods.
Beside him stood the Blacklock leaders and another crowned individual, this one young, blond and handsome. Others unknown to them followed, but none wearing the distinctive colors of the Blacklock family.
"Grimbasher." Greeted the monarch.
"King Thorin." Brorgic struggled to his feet, his balance challenged, but he waved off any offer of assistance from his daughter. He made a passable bow without fainting. "Well met, well met and well done. The songs of your deeds will never cease."
"You called me foolish once." Thorin said coolly. Referring to the male's refusal to heed the call to join his quest.
"More'n once." Brorgic admitted with a flush to his cheeks now. "More the fool was I, and you proved it."
"You are willing to follow me now?"
"It calls my blood cowardly, for joining after the battle is won." Said the Grimbasher, his head still bowed.
Thorin grinned and shook his hand. "Stand Brorgic. It was foolhardy, and nearly lost on several occasions. And the only the first battles are over. All hands and hearts will be needed for the rebuilding, and the defending." He somehow managed not to look at the Blacklocks while speaking of defending Erebor, though he wasn't really sure how.
"Your majesty." Brunere curtsied low, ducking her head. "I beg leave to accompany my father to the healing halls, he is sore wounded. I will return out to the camp as soon as you will it."
Thorin frowned.
The golden-haired blond frowned as well. "All Longbeards have places set aside for them inside."
Brunere and Sealyn shot each other incredulous looks, and then frowned over at the Blacklock guard who'd told them otherwise. "It seems we had poor information."
"Your daughter, Brorgic?"
The Grimbasher beamed and introduced both his daughter and her friend, Sealyn Heavyaxe.
Thorin smiled at Sealyn who felt a mess with dirt, sweat, grime and blood marring her travel tunic and cloak. She just hoped her dark hair wasn't escaping too badly from her braids. "I knew your grandfather, a good dwarf and a fine warrior. He served my father well for many years."
"My father sends his deepest regards and allowed me travel with the Grimbashers as he needed to stay and see to the mines back at home. He sends messages asking if you want them closed or continue working for coal and the like." Sealyn lowered her eyes respectfully.
"You will be safe here." Thorin vowed. Then he frowned. "The dwarrowdam quarters have not been cleaned nor yet repaired, however."
Fili leaned in. "We can set aside suites for families in the royal halls for now. Grimbasher can have one room, and the attached can serve for his daughter and her friend."
Brunere visibly relaxed, relieved at the arrangement as being both proper and respectful. She smiled gratefully at the yet unintroduced male. Though his crown spoke as to whom he might be.
"There is a third." Sealyn started to speak, only to get interrupted.
Himlis disregarded everyone else as he turned toward King Thorin. "My sister should be allowed within the mountain as well. With the proper escorts."
Thorin didn't immediately respond. He clearly did not want to agree, but thousands of years of tradition and cultural conditioning demanded otherwise. "You and two guards of your choosing."
"Gresol as one." Himlis immediately pounced.
The king nodded. He'd expected that, actually. Planned on it.
Himlis spoke quietly with one of his guards and sent the male to fetch his sister. He then winked over at the crown prince. "Keep your hands off now."
Fili stiffened at the implied insult to his self-control. Beside him, Gloin sighed and stepped in quietly. "And you keep your hands off of the Longbeard dams as well."
Himlis rudely looked over at Brunere with her plain features but beautiful and kind eyes. Then he pretended to look at Sealyn with dirt splattered over the lower portion of her face and messy braids. "No problem." He said dryly.
"There is a third dam with us." Sealyn said proudly, not letting the Blacklock insult get to her. "Fergard's daughter."
"Stormrune?" Gloin said thoughtfully, nodding. "Young I believe."
"Of age now." Sealyn nodded toward the hooded figure.
"Father says the Blacklocks are dismissing our guards around the trade goods we brought." Erelinde said quickly, more interested in her news than in introductions.
Fili frowned sharply at the news, even as he wondered what this third dwarrowdam looked like beneath her cloak.
To the other Longbeards, it wasn't anything unusual to see Erelinde so covered. Her father insisted upon it when they were in town or around unknown dwarrow. It was quite the usual.
To Thorin and those of his generation, it was far more unusual to see dwarrowdams without such covering except in private homes. Or if known to them. But the Desolation had changed a lot of things. Fili was completely unused to the old fashioned ways. His mother had never covered up as such, nor had Gimli's mam for that matter. It never occurred to him that they were already wedded.
"Gresol?"
"I am the leader of the Blacklock!" Himlis hissed.
Thorin's eyes never shifted as he looked to the uncle instead of the warrior. "Did you order our goods taken?" The king asked the Blacklock 'leader', although his gaze never left the other male.
"No!" Himlis disavowed.
"Exactly." Thorin watched Gresol slowly begin to smile.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Saruman circled Kili, looking him over like a piece of furniture that he'd just purchased. The dark-eyed prince stood there, nervous energy making it difficult not to move or to challenge the wizard.
"Be at peace." Galadriel said gently to the son of her daughter's son.
"Peace? Yes. A child of peace. The promise of allegiances." Saruman spoke in a rolling voice full of velvet and grace. A voice that could convince you that the sky was purple and you'd ever believe it. "I only wish the Lady Dis had informed us."
"Me." Elladan said as he poured himself a cup of wine.
Saruman paused and then bowed his head. "Of course."
"Peace is the last thing on Sauron's mind." Elrohir spoke up, accepting a glass of wine handed to him by his twin. "Which recalls an interesting notion that Kuilaith brought up."
Kili startled, then nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
"Sauron. The great evil, the darkness and the deceiver." Saruman sighed most heavily. "It seems he hid himself from us only too well."
"Not from Gandalf." Galadriel slipped in the words with deadly grace.
Saruman's hand hesitated as he reached for his own wine, but only for a second. "No. Not from Gandalf." And if there was any bitterness to his tone, it was hidden well. "But vague rumors are everywhere and at every time. Even those who are paranoid do happen to, upon occasion, be right."
"Upon occasion." Galadriel repeated the words with the same inflection with which the White Wizard had used them.
Saruman looked in her direction and wondered if she suspected anything at all. He knew his mind was well shielded from her, unless she pressed hard with all she could bear. Which she was not doing. So no. She suspected him not at all.
"Kuilaith feels that he was born in order to tear apart any possible alliance between Dwarves and Elves." Elrohir commented.
Saruman's eyes slid back to the young princling. "He does?" Something moved behind his eyes, some dark thought. "Interesting."
Kili nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense."
The White Wizard bit back a reprimand to tell the impudent fool to close his mouth. He pushed back the thought that he could kill the mortal idiot with but a word or three, right where he stood. How would the elves like that? Saruman instead sat back and sipped his wine. "Please, continue."
Warming, Kili turned with eager eyes. "Look. I know that you're wise and all, but so were the elves that crafted the rings of power, right?"
Galadriel nodded at him encouragingly, her manner warm and her smile gentle.
Saruman gave that tiny gesture more weight than anything the dwarf could possibly say. It seemed that the Lady of Light had taken a goodly interest in the mongrel child born of her line.
"But Sauron, he's the Deceiver. The big deceiver." Kili bit his lip, but then pressed onward. "Dwarves are greedy when it comes to family. Fathers, mothers, sons, children at all … it's everything."
Saruman bit back the automatic response to insult the dwarves by saying they were greedy for everything. He needed to be encouraging right now. Or at least, as seen as encouraging. "Go on."
"And Elves. They have so few children. Each child is hugely precious to them. Beyond measure." Kili threw out his arms in emphasis, speaking a bit too fast in his enthusiasm. "Why would anyone wise think the two races could share a child?"
"Because both races would treasure that child." Saruman said rather cuttingly. When he heard his own tone, he softened it. "Both Dwarves and Elves, neither would do anything to harm such a child."
"Not me, er …not the child." Kili grinned a bit sheepishly. "But fight over rights to the child. It's not good, what my mam did. Taking me and all that. But it did save everyone from fighting over me so much when I was younger."
"Only to fight now?" Saruman asked the obvious.
"No." Kili straightened. "Now I'm an adult." He winked over at his father. "Mostly."
Elladan chuckled, and saluted his son with his glass. "You're doing well."
"Both sides are interested in me. Yes. So what?" Kili grinned. "I make my own choices now and I can straddle the line between the two races much better as an adult than a child."
"Can you?" Saruman stroked the stem of his wine glass a moment, before deliberately stilling his hand. He did not want to appear as if nervous or planning anything.
Kili stepped closer to the wizard, eager to explain. He licked his lips and then shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I think that Sauron used you. Them. All of you."
Saruman stilled, amazed at what the silly youth had actually worked out in his head. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Don't be embarrassed!" Kili shrugged and made a slight face. "I mean, he IS the Deceiver. Rings. Fooled everyone before. See?"
The wizard took a sip of his wine in order to organize his thoughts. He glanced over at Lord Celeborn standing next to his wife. "Do you two believe this as well?"
Galadriel stared at him for a long moment, but finally she spoke. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But even if Sauron had no hand in the plan to marry the two races, he would not be above using it to his own advantage."
Relief poured through the wizard as he pretended to think over this idea. "He would use anything to his advantage." Saruman agreed.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Tauriel fought the urge to pace, having been left in the receiving hall while the dwarves went outside to the Blacklock camps and the elves went to commune with the wizard.
Glorfindel offered her a glass of wine, which she declined.
Arwen moved in next to her with a wide smile. "So …."
The red head glanced at the beautiful High Elf, unsure. "What?"
Glorfindel smiled into his glass. "Female talk. I'll go over there." He pointed toward the entrance from outside. "Ready to escape if the talk turns too soft and sweet for me."
Bifur pulled out a stick of wood and a sharp knife, choosing a spot and began cutting. None of Dain's people still in the room looked at them.
Arwen's smile only grew. "Tell!"
Tauriel looked around her, then shrugged.
Bifur made a pursed movement with his lips.
The red head hesitated at the sight. "The kiss?" She guessed.
Arwen moved in closer, almost too close. "You know what I meant!"
Actually, she didn't. What had Glorfindel called it? Female talk? Tauriel did not have any experience with this sort of thing. Any time someone in her command had spoken on such she'd turned the conversation back to more practical matters.
"Well?"
Tauriel watched the other she-elf and realized that she wasn't getting away without talking about this, not unless she went into full retreat. And hid. For years. She sighed heavily.
Arwen leaned in, not losing one jot of her enthusiasm.
"It was a kiss." Tauriel said rather lamely.
Disappointed, the Rivendell lass straightened up and gave her companion a telling look. "Have you had any others?"
"No." The red-head admitted.
"So. What was it like?" Demanded Arwen.
"Surprising." Tauriel said vaguely. She could remember the moment quite clearly. And yes, it had been a surprise. Elves didn't kiss, not until certain real and binding promises had been made to each other. It was a prelude to marriage and … "Warm."
"Warm?" Arwen sat back, as if thinking it over. She held her hand in front of her face and breathed out. "Yes, I can see that. Heat from both of you breathing and all."
Somehow Tauriel thought it was more than that. Yes. Kili's skin and lips had been warm. His hands on her face had held warmth. But it was more than that. Heat. There had been a surprising amount of heat that body temperature alone could not explain.
"Anything else?" Arwen persisted.
"Private." Tauriel tried to stop the questions. "Please."
The High Elf nodded and even sat back. Which should have brought relief, but Tauriel was chagrined to see the almost rejected look on Arwen's face. The disappointment in her eyes.
"Hot. Tender." Tauriel's mouth opened without her permission.
"Oh." The dark-haired she-elf looked up happy with the sharing. "Like the songs?"
Tauriel paused, thinking of the great love sagas that the elves had in their traditions. Shocked, she nodded. "I always thought them an exaggeration."
"Me too!" Arwen blew out a chuckle and then smiled. "Really?" She sighed. "I'm jealous now."
Instinctively Tauriel knew the other elf wasn't jealous of Kili himself, but that the two of them were sharing something so romantic. "Romantic."
A heartfelt sigh from the dark-haired beauty. "Yes it was."
Tauriel nodded, keeping all other comments and thoughts to herself.
"Do dwarves kiss a lot?" Arwen asked rhetorically, then she looked back over at Bifur and repeated her question.
Bifur shrugged, nodded, then shrugged. He then waffled his hand back and forth and said something neither female could understand.
"I would guess more kissing than a courting elven couple." Arwen laughed happily. "If I were you, I'd keep thinking Dwarven thoughts."
Tauriel blushed, but didn't disagree.
"Keep all embarrassing comments to yourselves." Glorfindel started striding back toward them. "They're coming back inside."
The two women stood, one looking mightily pleased and the other a bit confused.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Thorin scowled as he stopped in the middle of his receiving hall and wondered how it was that he didn't have a headache. He should have one, what with all the idiocy and stupidity of the day. "Those goods are NOT belonging to you lot!"
Gresol shrugged. "We rescued the caravan, it's people …and it's goods! They belong to us!" He smiled pleasantly. "You don't negate those facts, do you?"
"Our caravan never fell!" This from a dwarrow with a neatly braided but full black beard with no decorations. "We never ceded rights to our goods to you or others! You came in to offer assistance, but no contract was settled before such."
"Fergard, Fergard." Gresol turned on the dwarrow. "You were right happy to see us at the time."
"At the time I thought you better than the goblins." The dark-bearded dwarf bellowed unhappily.
The Blacklock uncle and nephew shared a look and a frown. "That was an unfriendly thing to say."
"Trying to steal our goods is an unfriendly thing to do!" This from a gruff looking dwarrow with a nose that looked off-center, as if broken in the past and ill set. He was also obviously wounded and being supported by either the most delicate looking dwarf Tauriel had ever seen, or a dwarrowdam. At that moment the dwarf looked up and met her eyes.
The red-head didn't think about rivalry at the moment, she knew distress when she saw it. Tauriel grabbed a nearby bench, picking it up with ease as she hurried forward and sat it where the wounded dwarf could sit and prop his bandaged leg.
The dwarrowdam looked up at her with true thankfulness in her rather pretty violet-blue eyes. "Father, please."
Arwen moved up next to her with a mug of ale for the dwarf.
The gray-bearded dwarf looked from his daughter to the two she-elves and managed to look utterly astonished, confused, and yet grateful. "Thank ye ….lass, er …well …lasses?"
"Lass is fine, Master Dwarf." Tauriel assured him.
The dwarrow nodded at her, started to look away and then turned back to stare gape jawed at the beads in her hair. His eyes narrowing in on the one sapphire and ruby clasp that Kili had gifted to her. "Uh … he's a lucky …" What? Would a dwarf court an elf? But that was a dwarven clasp and those were dwarven braids in her hair. Tradition stated he finish his sentence. " …a lucky dwarrow."
Tauriel touched the clasp in her hair, then gave him a bit of a doleful look. "I'm afraid I don't know if there is a traditional response I should give. But I thank you."
She looked up to find Bifur beaming at her in approval.
"Look. Who cares if Thorin forced his younger heir to waken before his time for some elf bit, but we …." Himlis stopped cold. He had to, with the blade now at his throat.
Fili grinned at him viciously. "Keep going. Finish that thought. Out loud." His blade hand was steady, with the razor sharp tip tasting the sweat on the male's neck. "Please."
Gresol looked around and was surprised to see how many dwarrow from both Erebor and the Iron Hills had their hands on the hilts of their blades. He wasn't the only one.
Tauriel glanced around. Dwalin, Balin, Dori, Nori, Bifur and even sweet natured Ori. Fili's blade was out and Thorin looked like he was about to explode. She caught Glorfindel's eye and he winked at her. Of the company only Gloin wasn't looking threatening, though he did appear quite angry. The others weren't there to hear or react.
"The King would not do such." Dori said with much indigence.
Tauriel relaxed slightly, a bit mortified at herself. Of course they weren't reacting to a jibe against her, but to their leader.
"And don't you be talking about her like that!" Ori's voice rose over the crowd, his temper staining his cheeks red but his eyes were fierce and protective.
"Stand down, cousins." Thorin said slowly.
Gresol's expression stilled with some unknown emotion. Finally, he quirked a look over at the king.
Thorin smiled maliciously. "Yes. I name them cousin, and I don't name you and yours such. For we actually share blood."
Dori looked completely appalled, while Nori suddenly appeared smug. "Distantly." The gray-bearded dwarf said with a placating tone.
"Blood." Thorin asserted. "Fili, please. Sister-son. Re-sheath your blade.
"Which one?" The blond crooned.
That's when most everyone noticed the second blade held an inch from Himlis' gut.
Slow applause filled the room and all eyes turned toward the lone dwarrowdam approaching them from the main entrance to the room.
Fili stepped back, pulling his blades clear just in case. He eyed the newcomer with appreciation. For she was pretty indeed.
Dark chestnut curls shining richly and with scattered seed pearls threaded throughout her intricate braids. Here and there the spark of a diamond buried within the tresses as well. Bright brown eyes were wide and framed with lashes lined and darkened with khol. It was an interesting effect. Exotic. Especially to a young prince who'd only even rarely seen a female of his own race.
Fili glanced over at the hooded and cloaked form next the Fergard Stormrune. Hadn't they indicated that the third dwarrowdam was over there?
"Sister." Himlis said with pleasure and warning.
Fili sighed. Oh. Right.
"I present to the king and his heir, as well as all his ….cousins." Gresol's voice dripped with something entirely too close to mockery. "The Lady Risil Blacklock."
Sealyn and Brunere stared at the pristine gown the dwarrowdam was wearing. A gown? Really? Feeling grungy and dirty, both females gave each other a baleful look. Some first impression they were giving. Dust covered grime and sweat as well as even blood, they were geared in plain travel tunics and slacks. Their nice clothing in trunks.
Nori leaned in and eyed the Blacklock heiress for a moment, then looked at Fili. "Cousin." He deliberately stressed the word. "That rock that the Lady gave you, that is supposed to alert you to danger. What color would you say it would change to if you waved it over this one?" He cocked his head at the newest dwarrowdam with something like glee in his eyes.
Fili roared with laughter, earning a disgusted look from the Blacklock heiress, who went so far as to pull the hems of her skirts away from him.
Sealyn looked over at Nori with a genuine smile. Brunere leaned toward her. "I saw him first." She teased with a whisper.
"Liar." Sealyn smile turned into a bit of a smirk.
Himlis eyed Fili with great displeasure, clearly insulted. "I was going to let your goods go, for a rescue fee. Minimal. But I am rethinking that position."
"Rethink it all you want, laddie. Keep the goods."
Shocked looks turned to Gloin, who reached into his leather coat to pull out some parchments. "Now that we settled that."
"Settled?" Roared Fergard, only to fall silent at a glare from Dwalin.
Gloin cleared his throat. "Settled. Now. We can discuss the loans that the Blacklocks took out with King Thror two hundred years ago."
Gresol's eyes widened.
The red-haired dwarrow looked up. "Oh. I know you told Thorin after the Desolation that everything had been paid back and you had the paperwork to prove it. Owed us nothing your brother said."
Thorin grinned evilly.
Gloin ignored the horrified look on the faces of the Blacklock leaders. "Seemed the dragon didn't flame our copies. Shame for you. Real pity. Because the interest has added up. And nothing in these papers say that you've repaid the loans."
"Interest." Himlis repeated weakly.
Thorin shrugged. "I was inclined to let the interest go. But now. How did you phrase it? I'm rethinking that position."
Gloin nodded grimly. "So many years, garnering interest. Due? Oh wait, it is past due now." He looked up with a lot of satisfaction. "We'll need to discuss all of this, of course."
Fergard settled back down, relieved. The goods that they'd struggled to get to Erebor weren't high money valued. But they were entirely necessary to get a mine back up and running.
Thorin grunted. "Good. Shall we head to my study and discuss the trade goods as well as all outstanding loans?" He gestured for Fili, then frowned. Sighing, he found his crown prince still staring at the lovely Blacklock heiress with both distrust, but also some interest.
Sealyn made a face as she saw the shameless looks being sent to the handsome young prince. "We need to put a spike in that." She whispered to her best friend. "But right now we look like we've been hung out wet and left to burn in the sun."
Brunere glanced over at Erelinde and raised a brow.
Sealyn's gaze perked up and wondered how to accomplish what was necessary. Then she stilled. That Nori, he was behind Erelinde and he was looking at her. A few hand signs and a glance at the hem was all it took. He gave her a questioning look and she smiled.
Nori weighed it over in his mind and did as asked. He stepped on the long hem and put his full weight on it.
"Erelinde? We need to get our room ready, and allow our fathers to rest and heal."
"Oh." The youngest of the three dwarrowdams moved across the group to join them. Only her hem was weighted down suddenly. It jerked her to a sudden stop with a small sound. She turned and Nori smiled at her in apology, staring.
Erelinde pulled her hood back up over her face from where it had fallen and continued over to her friends.
Fili made a soft distressed sound as she hid her face again, all thoughts of the Blacklock heiress suddenly dissipating like so much fog once the sun comes out.
Every male eye watched the trio as they stood chatting and planning what they'd need to bring inside to unpack.
Thorin looked toward Fergard with wide eyes. "When you told me you couldn't come with me so you could stay and protect your child …"
Dwalin whistled softly, his eyes seeking out Balin's.
Fili wanted nothing more than to go over there and pull the hood down again. She couldn't possibly be as beautiful as he'd thought he'd seen. Not really. No. Couldn't. Damn.
Sealyn looked over at the Blacklock heiress and smiled winningly. "Had mud thrown on the wrong dam."
Brorgic Grimbasher suddenly laughed, remembering what had happened earlier.
Fergard gave a weak smile that was more than a little sad. "She's nearly craft-wed."
The father's words culling another distressed sound from Fili.
Dwalin leaned in helpfully. "He said nearly, lad. Nearly."
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Home sick. My loss, hopefully your gain. I hope it makes sense. Blame the flu if it doesn't.
