My goodness, I did not expect to take so long to update. This chapter was a beast, but I wrangled it finally. It's twice as long as most of my chapters, but I couldn't bear shortening it. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews in my absence. Never give up hope, I intend to finish this story even though my writing schedule is heavily dependent on my real job/school/life/etc...Let me know what you think of this one, it wasn't easy to capture the original Pride and Prejudice while staying true to what I have written thus far.
He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. - Jane Austen. Pride & Prejudice
Thorin was quiet; a common occurrence for the king, but this was different. Dis could feel the silence between them, tugging heavily like the massive counterweights used in the mines below. An hour had passed since she joined him in his study to finalize plans for the Durin's Day celebration, and yet not five words had passed between them. Dis was growing more impatient with each grunted response her brother gave as he stared with an unfocused gaze at nothing in particular.
"Am I boring you?" She asked him sharply, a think black brow quirking when he did not respond. "Are you unwell?" Again, nothing.
With a huff, Dis tossed her quill onto the desk and crossed her arms. Thorin was in one of his moods – again, a common occurance. She had dealt with them on a regular basis for over 150 years. But time did nothing to bolster her patience when dealing with them. Quite the opposite, actually.
"It's a pity that you are not well enough to help me prepare for Durin's Day," She said, watching closely for any change in reaction. "I guess if you are this unwell, you won't be able to attend the celebration even." Still, nothing. Rolling her eyes, Dis decided to try a more underhanded tactic. "Signi will be so disappointed that you won't be there to –"
"Who says I won't be there?" Thorin growled, his eyes focusing on his sister for the first time.
"Ah, you are alive," she muttered. "I was beginning to think you had turned to stone before your time."
"I was thinking…"
"A dangerous pastime-" Dis chuckled.
"I know," he grumbled, his expression thoroughly unamused.
Dis waited for him to elaborate, but in a matter of seconds, Thorin was back to his vacant expression and weighty silence.
"Care to tell me what you are thinking about?"
For a moment, a stormy expression passed over Thorin's face, his eyes growing dark and dangerous, his lip curling into a scowl. Dis had never seen such an expression, and for a moment, she considered rescinding the question. But as quick as it arrived, the storm passed and his features softened, his eyes meeting hers, nearly pleading, as he explained.
"The Arkenstone. I found it, I took it in my hand, but it is still not enough."
"What do you mean," she asked slowly, cautiously. Thorin was dangerous when he possessed the Arkenstone. She had wanted it to be thrown in the damn lake, but Balin had insisted that it must stay in the mountain for future generations. Thorin had been careful to stay away from it, but his recent attempts enter the treasury made her more and more anxious that they would finally see the great king brought down to dust. Her only consolation was that the mere memory of the dragon was enough to scare her brave, warrior brother away from the stone.
"I mean that I can hold the Arkenstone, I can stare into its depths, but I can't take it from the vault without losing my bloody dinner on the treasury floor," He growled.
"You used to lose your dinner outside the treasury door. What changed?"
"I'm sure you can guess," he muttered, his expression doleful.
Dis felt her heart sinking. Thorin's mild fascination with Signi was reaching a very dangerous tipping point. He could not put off the inevitable – making a declaration – much longer. But she also knew that he might not survive the rejection if his ravaged mind continued replacing his lust for gold with that of a dwarrowdam.
"I see, "Dis said slowly, "And if she refuses? Will you abandon this Arkenstone nonsense and focus on being king?"
"She won't refuse me!" he snapped, the anger from before returning to his glare.
Thorin's scowl could send a weaker dwarf scurrying down the hall, but Dis cut from the same stone as her brother and could meet him growl for growl. Mirroring his expression, Dis attempted to make Thorin see reason.
"Signi can and most likely will refuse you, you stubborn-ass goat, and it is time that you get your act together. Thousands of dwarves are counting on you to keep this kingdom running, and we can't afford to lose you again to bloody rock. Who is going to run Erebor while you are lolling around the treasury floor? Fili? He is just a boy who is stuck on the other side of Arda. Not that his mind is much better at the moment, all hung up on a dwarrowdam, can't think of anything but getting married. How about Kili? Oh wait, he is so fixated on an elf maid that he will most likely never see again now that her king has shipped her to the outer reaches. Not that he ever had a head for ruling. Dain would be next, fat and drunk fool that he is. Oh, but he ducked out of the line of succession decades ago. I guess that leaves Thorin Stonehelm, fine lad that he is – "
"Or perhaps you should take my place," Thorin growled, his words tinged with resignation to Dis' wearing down.
"Don't be a fool," Dis said, rolling her eyes. "I just need – the kingdom needs – for you to be the king you were destined to be. Last time I checked, the Arkenstone did not determine your ability to rule, and neither did a dwarrowdam.
Thorin did not respond immediately, allowing the time to stretch between them as he glowered at the crackling fire. Groaning, he sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are right, Dis. I have been far too distracted lately. What is it that we were working on?"
Dis smiled, a bittersweet smile, as she delved into the Durin's Day plans. She hated to see her brother hurting, but even this was a thousand times better than seeing him completely lost to the sickness once again.
Erebor's market was crowded, much more so than usual, as the mountain's residents prepared for Durin's Day. Lines of impatient dwarves huddled around the kingdoms finest jewelers and smiths was they meticulously weighed mounds of gemstones and beads. It was tradition for dwarves to give their loved ones jewels for Durin's Day. Signi herself had already bought shiny silver beads, inlaid with fire opals for each of her sisters, a pair of large emerald earrings for her mother, and a new silver pipe for her father. She even bought Kara and Sigrid each a thin gold ring with rosy quartz.
The wealth of dwarves had long been celebrated on Durin's Day, and as that wealth grew with their settlement in Erebor, the more ostentatiously the dwarves dressed for the holiday. All dwarves, no matter their station, wore only the most luxurious of fabrics and the largest of jewels for the holiday. And the market showed it as dwarves pillaged booths of fine fabrics from the east, and dresses and tunics that appeared to be straight from Godor. Trimmings of fur, dwarvish embroidery, lace, and leather. All of it was selling out faster than the poor vendors could put it out.
Signi's excitement had been growing steadily as the holiday approach. For the first time they would be celebrating in Erebor, and even Signi could not resist imagining the splendor of such a celebration in the mountian's halls. However, certain new traditions had formed - it was now the goal of every single dwarrowdam to use Durin's Day as an opportunity to finally tempt the king into matrimony.
If Elin's prattle was anything to go by as they walked through the market square, violet silk from Rhun and fine gray linen from Rohan were the fabrics that the most fashionable of highborn ladies wore in EredLuin. Thick gold chains and polished amethyst were rumored to be the only jewels that could catch the king's eye. Lifa drank in every word from her youngest sister, but Signi very much doubted the authenticity. Just that morning she had been delivered a small box containing a fine gold necklace with a little acorn charm. It was such an odd adornment, but it came with a note from Thorin promising to tell the story behind it the next time they spoke. Signi's stomach fluttered and her face flushed as she thought about that little gold acorn and how well it matched her Durin blue gown, a particular favorite of the king's
"And Miri says that white roses were the height of fashion in Ered Luin. Only dwarrowdams who wore white rose crowns were the lovely enough to tempt wealthy suitors," Elin said as she skipped ahead of the group, twirling with excitement.
"Roses," scoffed Signi, rolling her eyes toward Lifa. "Next she will say need to wear dropped-waist gowns and walk around barefoot like a bloody elf prince."
"Actually –" Elin started, turning to face Signi.
"White roses," Baila said, her voice tinged with clear disapproval. "Where in the world does one get roses in November?"
"They are preserved roses," Elin whined, her nose scrunching with frustration like she did as a dwarfling.
"Well I can say with certainty that there are no preserved white roses to be found in Erebor," Lifa said. "And it is time that you stopped listening to the foolish gossip of Miri." Signi grinned at her elder sister's tone, but she was dutifully ignored. It was rare that Lifa took an authoritative tone with her younger siblings, but it was happening more frequently, much to Signi's delight, as Elin began taking tea daily with Miri. The constant stream of Miri's gossip Elin regurgitated at dinner wore on everyone, but none more so than Lifa.
Elin responded by childishly sticking out her tongue and spinning around to march off through the market ahead of the group once again. Baila scurried after, no doubt planning to berate her for her behavior.
"Mahal, how does Mama do it?" Lifa groaned, rubbing her temples with both hands.
Signi laughed as she hooked Lifa's arm through hers. "Mama is as silly as the two of them put together."
"Sad, but true," Lifa sighed. "You know, I am surprised that you wanted to come with us today. You usually hide in the library anytime the market is mentioned."
"Trust me, I would much rather be in the library."
"But?"
"But Sigrid invited me in joining her family for their remembrance festival tonight and I want to bring something as a gift to the family." Signi had been initially hesitant to attend, but between her research in the library and Sigrid's incessant requests for her join them, Signi finally decided to go. There were elements that she was not invited to attend, private ceremonies for the families to remember loved ones lost, but the night was filled with feasting, music, and ghost-stories – Signi's three favorite things.
"What sort of gift does one give for a remembrance festival?" Lifa asked.
"No idea," Signi chuckled. She wasn't entirely sure there were gifts to be exchanged. But it didn't feel right to arrive empty-handed," Food and wine always seems to be a welcome gift for any occasion. Maybe I will bring a basket of refreshments."
"Does the king know that you are going?" Lifa asked, suddenly changing the subject.
Signi chewed her lip. She had hoped that he could be avoided in this situation. "No, should he?"
Lifa rolled her eyes. "You know that he will want to send a dozen guards with you if you go to Dale, especially at night."
"I know," Signi groaned. "And that's exactly why I haven't told him." His most recent over-reaction had happened just a few nights prior when a drunken man had called her a 'halfling bitch' after she pushed away his roving hands. The guards were quick to haul him away, but it didn't stop Thorin from ordering six more soldiers to join in her protection.
"He worries about you," Lifa said softly. "You should be thanking Mahal that the king with all of his infinite responsibilities is spending the time and resources to keep you safe."
"I don't need soldiers to keep me safe. I can handle these men, they are weak. It's already bad enough that there are rumors floating around about us. Mahal only knows what people think when they realize that he is sending his personal guard to look after me."
"Tell him. He deserves to know."
Signi scowled. Her sister was right. Of course she was, but it didn't make the thought of telling Thorin any more bearable. "Fine," she relented through clenched teeth. "I will tell him."
A cold wind from the north came on the eve of Durin's Day, bringing with it the gloomy air of winter come too soon. Snowflakes fell on the workers as Thorin Stonehelm declared that the construction had at last come to an end. There was a certain satisfaction that came with setting the last stone, much like the feeling he had after killing an undefeatable foe. Even the act of overseeing such a collaboration between dwarves and man, something that had not happened since long before the arrival of Smaug, bought a Stonehelm a sense of accomplishment that he had never felt before. He was drunk on it. There had been drawbacks - with Brasi managing the budget, Stonehelm had to resort to drastic measures to make sure they met their deadline. Only six men remained on the crew as they finished construction, a price Stonehelm suspected that would cost more than gold to repair. But the regret was not enough to eliminate the alluring power he felt as he headed back to camp with his soldiers.
Despite the cold, Stonehelm's shirt clung to him as he walked back to his tent, wet with perspiration from his labor. His heavy brown pants were streaked with dust from the stones they laid, and his boots were caked with a layer of red-clay mud. A bath was in order, as was a much needed drink. No doubt his men would be tapping several kegs of Iron Hills ale that night, but Stonehelm had a fine Dorwinion wine that he has been saving for this moment. Pushing aside the tent flap, he held back a groan as his gaze fell upon an uninvited guest waiting in the dark.
It could be said that there were none in the seven dwarf kingdoms that would dare suggest that Thorin Stonehelm, the only son of Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, and great nephew of the mighty king, Thror, was a coward. But even a warrior with such a fearsome lineage would wilt under the cold glare and sharp tongue of Lord Brasi when he was in one of his moods. Stonehelm's lip curled into a sneer as he allowed the flap to fall behind him and he stomped into the tent. He recognized the Brasi's expression, shuddering as the memory of the numerous tongue-lashings he had received surfaced like the violent dreams of a battle fatigued mind. For years he had been Brasi's favorite prey, the first to be blamed when schemes went awry, the whipping boy when others failed to do their job. And yet the sweet taste of irony was not wasted on Stonehelm as he stood in his tent, watching Brasi's newest tantrum erupt, closely resembling that of a spoiled dwarfling facing his first belting.
Stonehelm poured himself a glass of wine without offering any to his guest, refusing to take a seat at the table. Lord Brasi sat before him, his plump form covered in layers of fur, making him look like a fat little rabbit. His pointed gray beard was streaked with spittle as he ranted and raved about the king, and his beady eyes bulged. In that moment, Stonehelm saw him with uncommon clarity – just a weak little dwarf lord who had nothing but schemes to keep his family afloat. And not even that could keep the gold coming in, if his shouts were anything to go by.
It was over. Not a soul in Ered Luin remained in debt to Lord Brasi, thanks to the generosity of King Thorin and the crown prince, Fili. Every loan that had saved those failing farms was paid in full long before their term was complete. Stonehelm felt his amusement growing as Brasi lamented every ingot of gold he lost in the interest alone.
"At least you got back the amount you loaned those farmers," He said. "Thorin could have easily ripped up each and every one of your contracts and no one would have stopped him."
"I didn't get a damn bit of gold back," Brasi hissed, his eyes blazing. "Your bloody king tipped off certain Lady Katlin that her 'investments' were going under. That old bat is demanding that I repay her in full, and has gone so far as to suggest that I pay for 'damages' for missed investment opportunities."
"So what you are saying is that not only have you lost any and all power you had over Thorin Oakenshield, you are also poor as a pauper,"Stonehelm said. "And how is this relevant to me? You have not held of your side of the deal. I do the dirty work, you give me a crown. Azog failed to kill Thorin, Fili is not engaged to your daughter, and somehow, despite our efforts, Thorin has managed to salvage the relationship between Erebor and Dale. Obviously your schemes are weak, so why should I listen to you now?"
"I have not lost my power over Thorin Oakenshield," Brasi growled, standing suddenly, the top of his head barely reaching Stonhelm's chin. "And you will have your damn crown."
"Face it, you have failed. It's time to cut your losses before you are exiled. Trust me, I have learned that the hard way."
"There is one thing that Thorin will forfeit his kingdom for," Brasi said, his voice so suddenly changed to the eerie calm that it usually carried. "One thing more precious to him than all of the gold in Erebor."
Stonehelm stared at Brasi for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Too many times had he been sucked into Brasi's schemes, and too many times he had been shamed and exiled when each of those schemes failed. And yet, the draw of the crown, his rightful place on the throne, drove him to the brink of insanity.
Pouring another glass of wine, Stonehelm plunked it on the table in front of Brasi. Taking a seat at the table, he said, "I'm listening…"
Signi had rehearsed it a thousand times. She was going to tell Thorin that she was invited to join Princess Sigrid for dinner, and although she did not feel as though it was unsafe to travel alone, she would respect his wishes to have the guard accompany her if he agreed that she could go. Signi was not naïve enough to think that the King had no idea that it was a holiday in Dale, but she hoped that he was not familiar enough with the details to know that their kind were technically unwelcome in the city one night of the year.
But rehearsing a conversation was nothing compared to actually holding the conversation, and Signi found herself waiting later and later in the day to finally approach the king. It was nearly dinner time before Signi finally gathered the courage to seek Thorin in his office. She was dressed in her cloak and carried the gift basket she had prepared, ready to leave the moment Thorin gave her approval. She also carried with her the Durin's Day gift she had prepared for him, just in case he needed a little extra encouragement.
Knocking on the closed door, she thought of the excuse she would have to make if he wasn't there. 'Sorry, Thorin, but you weren't there and I didn't want to miss dinner' probably wasn't going to be a good enough reason to go to Dale without the guards. Chewing her lip, she knocked again, a little louder to generate confidence
"Come in, will ye. And quit banging on the damn door," called a voice on the other side.
Signi could recognize Dain's brogue anywhere, but she couldn't fathom why he would be answering for the king. Reaching for the handle, the door swung heavily open and she was met with a strangely flustered Nadir.
"Come in, my lady," he said, tight lipped as he bowed and gestured for her to enter the study. Thorin was nowhere to be found, but that didn't seem to bother Dain as he lounged in the king's chair, feet on the desk, and a bottle of whisky that would be emptied with one good swig. Judging by Dain's rosly cheeks and boorish laughter when Nadir murmured apologies for the king's absence, it was clear he had found and drained Thorin's private stock.
"I did not expect to see you here," Signi said, with a smile as strained as Nadir's. Carefully, she sat the king's gift on the mantle where he was sure to find it later. "Where is Thorin?"
"Worried about your suitor I see," Dain teased with a wink. "He will be back, though it's been more than an hour since Dis dragged him away, and I suspect that dinner will be served and eaten before he finds his way back."
"And yet you linger?" She asked, taking the seat across from him.
"What can I say. The whisky is good and the company is even better," he chuckled, waving his glass toward Nadir in the corner.
Signi rolled her eyes. "Right, I am sure he won't mind at all discovering you have been raiding his desk drawers and drinking his liquor."
"He lost the right to mind," Dain roared. "I've save his sorry ass more times than I can count –"
"So two times?" she asked with a wry smile.
Dain chuckled, gesturing toward her with his drink still in hand. "You know, he's got those little lords on his council wound tighter than that bloody elf-king's corset. I told him not to send Fili away. But he never listens to me. Everyone knows that prince was the only thing keeping him in check. And would you know, the minute Fili's disappeared in the horizon, Thorin starts making deals with those greedy bastards in Dale behind his council's back."
"Fili?" Signi asked, her mind racing as the opportunity appeared. Rumors of Fili's departure floated through the mountain, but no one knew the true purpose behind it. Signi herself had tried to get the reasoning out of Kili many times, but he was more unyielding than the bedrock when she brought up his brother's mysterious disappearance. "Why did Thorin send Fili to Ered Luin?"
Dain hesitated, his eyes darting between Signi and Nadir. "Well I really shouldn't tell you, lass." Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "But I suppose it won't hurt if you promise not to tell anyone."
"Of course." She answered quickly. "You have my strictest confidence." In the corner, Nadir coughed, his eyes cutting warningly to the pair of them. However, Dain was far too deep in his cups to pick up subtle cues.
"You see, Thorin was worried that Fili was getting a little to fixated on Lifa. He wanted to save him from imprudent marriage. Thought the council would frown upon their match."
"Did he tell you that?" Signi gasped, her stomach sinking fast.
"Not in those words, but the message was there."
"What was his objection? Is Lifa not wealthy enough to please the King?"
"No, no," chuckled Dain, oblivious to her distress. "You know these royal types. They are all worried about the lineage and your family does not fit the standard. Don't you fret, Fili will marry his cousin Vara. It was planned at their birth. He is in Ered Luin getting her now."
Signi felt her face burn. Standing quickly, she turned away so Dain couldn't see the angry tears threatening to escape. "And Stonehelm. What did he do that was so offensive to Thorin?"
"You know how my boy can be," Dain huffed. "He was a foolish lad, too busy gambling and whoring to think straight. Just some harmless fun. But Thorin seems to think that is enough to remove him from the family record. It was nothing more than a young dwarf whose blood runs hot."
The room was growing hotter by the second and Signi could not take another minute of hearing about the king and his actions. How dare he judge her family and destroy her sister's one chance for happiness just because he was driven by his own greed. How dare he try to bar his own family from their birthright just because they acted on their impulses. Could Thorin Oakenshield claim such piety for himself?
"I've got to go," she muttered, ignoring Dain's protests. Grabbing her basket, she quickly headed for the door, taking deep swallows of air to remain calm.
Nadir was quick to step in front of her, blocking her from walking out the door. "Dain is a fool," he whispered, his sharp eyes catching on the tear slipping down her cheek. "And he has been drinking. Don't believe everything you hear."
Signi did not respond. Pushing past him, she stomped out of the king's office and made her way to the front gates. Thorin be damned. If even half of what Dain said as true, the king did not deserve the peace of mind he wanted by knowing that she was protected by his guard.
The cold north wind dried Signi's tears before she reached the gates of Dale, leaving stinging trails down her cheeks in their wake. She had no intentions of letting her mind spend another minute thinking about the infuriating king. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the heavy knocker on the gatehouse door. The door opened to reveal the Sigrid and Bain, each with a big smile on their face and rabbit fur lined hoods sheltering them from the wintery air.
"About time," Sigrid teased as she immediately hooked arms with Signi and escorted her through the gate. "We were about to send a search party."
"I was held up," Signi said with a grimace.
"No matter," Bain said, taking the basket and looping her other arm through his. "You are here now and that is what matters."
The city was uncharacteristically silent as they walked, their feet crunching loudly on the dusting of snow. Not a soul besides themselves roamed the streets. Every curtain of every home was drawn, slivers of firelight just visible at the edges of doors and windows. Signi had read that the feast was traditionally held at home with only the family present, but she had not anticipated it to be so shuttered.
"I'm surprised Tilda isn't here as well," Signi said.
"Da didn't want her traveling outside after dark," Sigrid explained. "Or me, which is why I brought Bain."
"Too many men without families this year," Bain said, his gaze shifting to the tavern across the square. It was the first sign of life that Signi saw – men gathering near the door under the torchlight, each with pints, though Signi very much doubted that it was their first or last drink of the night. "It's hard to be alone this time of year. Ale brings out the worst in people."
Unfortunately timed, one of the men shouted in their direction, his words too slurred with drink and an Esgaroth accent for Signi to understand, but she understood the context. She was not welcome. Not on this night. Bain made short work of the man, reminding him that such attitudes could earn a night in jail if he wasn't careful, but the damage was done. Signi immediately regretted her rashness of going to Dale without guards and wondered if her daggers would be needed before the night was over.
Shuddering at the dark turn of her thoughts, Signi picked up her pace and followed Sigrid across the square to the King's House.
Tilda was waiting eagerly for them when they finally arrived. Flinging the door open, she instantly wrapped her arms around Signi in a tight hug.
"You're here," she cheered, "finally."
"Tilda," Bard warned as he approached, his usually grim expression twisted into a light smile.
"What? She's late. I didn't think she was ever going to make it," Tilda argued.
"All that matters is that she made it," Bard said, bowing slightly in greeting. "Welcome, my lady. I hope my children are not too much of a nuisance. "
"They are never a nuisance to me. I have sisters," Signi said, returning Bard's warm smile with one of her own.
Just as promised, the family's long dining room table was covered in a holiday feast. Smoked fish from Long Lake, fresh baked sourdough and rye breads, sweet cream butter and lingon jam, and soft cheeses were in abundance, as were sweet pastries and whipped cream. Signi's stomach growled as she looked over the tantalizing dishes. The wine and thick venison sausages that she brought would make a perfect addition to the feast.
Joining the family at the table, Signi listened with rapt attention as Tilda and Sigrid described the events of the morning. As was tradition, the family had traveled to the graves of family that passed before them. As descendants of Lord Girion, the last Lord of Dale before its fall, there had been a public ceremony at his memorial site that involved speeches from Bard and Bain, music, and a laying of wreaths to commemorate his sacrifice. Signi could appreciate the traditions of man in honoring fallen warriors, but the story did not capture her attention like more personal traditions of their immediate family.
Long before dawn, when the sun was nothing more than a faint glow on the horizon, Bard had awakened his children to make the sojourn to Esgaroth. Wrapped in thick woolen blankets, the family braved the cold waters of Long Lake, huddled in a small wooden boat with Bard manning oars like he had years before becoming king. The sun was sending streaks of pink and yellow across the sky when they finally reached the north shore. They walked for some distance over mossy rocks and think tree roots until they finally reached a clearing in the woods. Two large stones sat in the center of the clearing, each with a trail of green leafed vines and the dried remains of yellow bell shaped flowers. Signi did not need an explanation of who might be buried in that location – Sigrid had told Signi weeks before that her mother had died shortly after giving birth to a baby girl, Astrid, the infant following her after a couple of weeks.
As Tilda talked about their work that morning, cleaning the sites, laying new wreaths, and praying to the Valar, Signi could not keep from watching the expressions of Sigrid, Bain, and Bard. Tilda was too young to truly remember her mother, but the others all carried some memory of the woman taken too early. Signi cursed her overactive imagination as she pictured Bard embracing his children, weeping with them as they spoke reverently of their mother. Her own tears threatened to overtake her as she gulped her wine.
A knock on the door gave Signi some much needed reprieve from the emotional storm that building inside of her. Bard excused himself politely and went to find out who could be visiting on that night, Bain trailing after him.
"Well, I guess it is time for the next, and perhaps most important, tradition of the night," Sigrid said, ushering Signi and Tilda into the darkened parlor. Sitting on the floor behind the sofa, they were able to block most of the glow from the fireplace. Sigrid lit a single candle and set it between them, the light flickering ominously across her face.
"And what tradition would this be?" Signi asked, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. As dwarf, she would hardly consider herself afraid of the dark, but something that she couldn't explain had her nerves on edge. She suspected it was the anger she had felt earlier in the evening and the underlying guilt of going to Dale without the guards, but somehow the apprehension felt bigger than any of her earlier emotions.
"Ghost stories!" Tilda cheered as she too hugged her knees and leaned against Signi's side.
Sigrid's grin was wicked as she began her story, her voice low and dangerous. Signi felt herself shiver and goosebumps prickled her skin as Sigrid continued, her voice taking a chilling tone and her expression frightening in the candlelight. Only Tilda's loud gasps and giggles kept Signi from completely giving in to fear.
Tilda shared her story next, her words rushed and excited as she tried to use the same chilling tone that her sister had used. Her story was more endearing than terrifying, but that didn't stop her audience from gasping and clutching at each other on overdramatic fear. Tilda bowed with flourish when her story was complete and Sigrid and Tilda applauded, each insisting that they have never been so terrified in their lives.
"It's your turn," Tilda said cheerfully as she dropped back down beside Signi.
"Oh no," Signi said her brow furrowed. "Dwarves don't tell 'ghost-stories'. I don't know any stories to tell."
"You're not getting off the hook that easy," Sigrid laughed. "I know how much you read. You have at least one spooky story to share."
Signi chewed her lip as she tried to think of something to share. Music had a much stronger tradition amongst the dwarves and there were any number of songs that Signi knew that would be considered "spooky". Rapping experimentally on the hardwood floor, Signi was satisfied with the solid thump it made.
"Well I don't know any stories," she said slowly, her fist beginning to tap a steady rhythm on the floor. "But I do know a song."
Tilda squealed and clasped her hands in excitement as Signi began singing in dark voice.
Walking in the mist
Alone in the deep silence
Can´t see any cairns
Gone are all the houses
I call out but no one answers
In between the gaps
In the mist-clad night
I sense shadows
Seems as though something is moving there
I call out but no one answers me
Friend, friend can you see me
Walking here in the mist
Have you wandered as I have
In the silence deep as death
Did you see the torch light
Shining in the village
Did you see what they did there
Do you remember what the state of things were
Was anyone looking for me
Friend, friend can you see me
Walking here in the mist
Have you wandered as i have
In the silence deep as death
Have you as I have
Walked in the mist
Strayed from the beaten path
Near the mountain edge
Do you know this loneliness
Friend, friend do you understand me
Do you know any secret path
Have you wandered as I have
in the endless uncertainty
Friend, friend do you understand me
Don´t you know any secret path
Have you wandered as I have
In the endless mist
Tilda and Sigrid huddled together as Signi sang the final words, her voice fading into a whisper as the rhythm her fist beat on the floor slowed. The song seemed to have the desired effect.
The door of the parlor swinging open and banging on wall startled the girls, and Bain's sudden appearance was met with a chorus of screams and dwarven swears.
"What did Da say about telling ghost stories to Tilda," Bain chastised. "Last year she couldn't sleep alone for weeks."
"That's not true," Tilda huffed.
"It is true," Sigrid sighed, wrapping her arms around her sister and kissing her on the head. "I should have listened. Where is Da?"
Bain hesitated, his eyes darting over to Signi. "There has been a situation at the Tavern. Da sent me back to get everyone upstairs and the doors locked. I am afraid you will have to stay the night here, Lady Signi."
"What kind of situation?" Sigrid asked, pushing past Bain to look out the windows on the front of the house.
"Stop!" Bain commanded, but he knew his words were wasted on Sigrid.
Signi and Tilda followed her, each peering out into the night. Where it had been silent before, a dull roar had formed around the tavern. Torchlight glowed brighter than before as more men than Signi had ever seen gathered in the square, the flames reflecting on the snow and the angry faces in the crowd. Bard was there on horseback, his sword strapped to his side. His guard was also with him, all on horses as well, their weapons drawn and ready.
But the men were not shouting at their king, as Signi would have anticipated in this situation. Instead, their ire was focused on another group gleaming in the firelight. Dwarves, a dozen or more, stood in formation, though their weapons remained in their scabbards. Signi recognized Stonehelm by his russet hair and swagger as he faced off the men, challenging them with every shouted taunt and gesture. Her guts twisted as she watched him, fear and anger curling in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Dwarves were not welcome on this night, and she suspected that this was just the reason that they chose to come.
"I have to go," she said, her voice cracking as she whipped around to face her hosts.
"No," Sigrid said firmly. "You will stay here. It's the only way to stay safe out there."
"You will be safer if I leave," Signi argued.
"Those men are drunk," Bain spat, his lip curling as he glanced toward the crowd again. "And they want nothing more than to inflict their anger on someone tonight."
"Exactly! They know I am here. And when your father runs those foolish dwarves back to Erebor, they will come here for me. Let me go. I am armed and can slip passed the crowd unnoticed."
Bain exchanged looks with Sigrid, his sister's frown deepening as she seemed to catch on to his silent message. "Does Thorin know you are here?" He asked finally.
Signi bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with frustration and shame. The one time she decided to forgo her king's orders to travel to Dale without a guard, a riot broke out.
Bain sighed, running a hand over his face, much like his father when facing an impossible decision. "If you leave, it was your own decision and was without the permission and knowledge of anyone in this house. The alley behind the Tavern is clear and you will not be noticed if you wear your hood. I suggest that you move fast and get back to Erebor before Thorin notices that you are gone. No doubt, he has soldiers heading our way as we speak to clean up the mess that Stonehlem has made out there. You know your king better than I, but something tells me that he will not be in a forgiving mood."
Relief washed through Signi. Bain may not be giving her consent to leave, but he wouldn't stop her when she tried.
"Be safe," Sigrid said, her hand gripping Signi's shoulder tightly. "And for the love of Mahal, and whoever else you pray to, keep those daggers in hand and don't hesitate to use them. "
Signi slipped out of the back kitchen door, her hood covering her head and one dagger in hand, leaving the other free to navigate the dark. The alley behind the tavern was pitch black, but Signi moved quickly, her footsteps light on the paving stone. The volume of crowd was growing louder as she moved, the shouts of men and the growls of dwarves nearly drowning out the clatter of hooves as more soldiers approached. Goats from Dain's army arrived, though Signi suspected that they carried Erebor soldiers rather than those from the Iron Hills.
The end of the alley opened to the market street. It was strange seeing the normally packed market empty and covered in blanket of snow. If she turned left, she would be immediately apprehended and recognized by Thorin's soldiers. They would be no threat to her, but the long term consequences were less than desirable. If she turned right she would be taken to the lake. Although she had no experience rowing, she figured that her boots would be thick enough to wade along the shallow shoreline until she was past the walls of Dale. Settling on the latter, she ran down the road toward the dock, not taking the time to hide in the shadows of the vacant street. She had just reached end and was surprised to find the path to the dock was blocked by a massive iron gate. Cursing herself for not thinking of the gate, she swung her foot at the iron bars in a futile effort to kick it open.
The sound of laughter from the shadows startled Signi, and she turned quickly around, her grip tightening on her dagger.
"What could the king's pet be doing in Dale on a night like this?" a cold voice asked. Signi could hear the crunch of snow as someone approached, but she could not make out a figure in the darkness.
"Who's there?" She asked thickly, masking the waver in her voice. The person stepped closer, allowing the thin moonlight to show gray hair and a pointed beard. "Brasi," she hissed, her back pressed against the gate. In a fight, Signi did not doubt her ability to best the vile dwarf lord. But at what cost? Would he go sniveling to Thorin, demanding her head on a platter? Would Thorin feel compelled to follow Brasi's every demand as he had since the dwarf first arrived in Erebor? Or would Thorin finally have the strength to make his own decision? Would he even want to? Brasi could make her life misery, and could be the undoing of her entire family. Not even Signi's father would forgive her if they were turned out of house and home just because she wanted to hear a few ghost stories.
"You are so far from home, my Lady," Brasi said as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to push her hood back, revealing her face. "Does the king know that his pet is out here…unchaperoned?" He drawled his words as he moved closer, his hand pushing a loose strand of her hair away from her cheek.
Signi clenched her teeth as he touched her, bile rising in her throat at his suggestive tone.
"I just don't understand the fascination," he continued, his eyes raking over her features. Grasping her chin in his hand, he wretched her face upward to allow more of the moonlight to pour over it. "What is it about you? What do you have that brings dwarves - powerful dwarves – to their knees? It's certainly not beauty. I've seen fuller beards on babies," he said, his thumbing tracing over her smooth jaw.
"Get away from me," she growled, turning away from him. But Brasi's grip tightened and she found herself unable to pull away.
"Now, now," he said, his breath washing over her face, stinking of too much wine. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is about you that has addled the mind of Thorin Oakenshield. If it's not your looks, and I daresay not your manners, what is left?" His thumb traced her bottom lip, making his point loud and clear.
"Thorin Oakenshield is of his own mind," she hissed. "I have no part of it."
Brasi scowled, his hand shifting at surprising speed to clutch her throat tightly. "Don't lie to me," he growled as she frantically tried to pull his hand away, his grip just tightening in response. "I have seen the change. His mind is slipping into madness again. How can a dwarf too afraid of gold to wear his own crown be slipping into gold sickness again? It's not the treasure he is after now and you are behind each and every one of his reckless plans. Erebor can be saved if I just rid the mountain of you and your filthy family."
Signi could feel her movements slowing as her vision slowly faded, all color slipping away to black and white. Her arms felt heavy and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out.
Brasi's voice sounded far away as he continued, "I could just kill you now and be done with it. No one will find your body in that lake. You will be food for the fish with the dragon to keep you company."
Signi's hands tightened once more, her fingertips digging into the cold metal of the dagger that she still carried, waking her from the black void that she was falling into. Opening her eyes, she could see Brasi's deranged expression just inches from her own face. He was so preoccupied with his murderous fantasies that he did not see her hand clutching the steel dagger rising. She aimed for his throat, but missed, the dagger raking across his cheek.
Brasi howled, his hands dropping to paw frantically at his face, blood dripping between his fingers. Signi fell, her hands grabbing the gate to keep from hitting the ground. She gasped, trying to catch a breath through her raw throat. Her head pounded and her vision was slowly coming back, but the edges were blurry. Dropping the dagger she ran towards the front gate, away from Brasi.
Brasi did not follow, nor did anyone in the gathering crowd pay any attention to her as she ran. Pulling up her hood, she darted through the front gate as a line of soldiers wearing Erebor colors marched through the entrance.
Signi's lungs burned as she ran back to Erebor, each breath stinging as it passed through her aching throat. Her choices were limited, and though she would prefer the wrath of Thorin over death at Brasi's hands any day, she hoped for a moment to gather her thoughts before facing the king. The front entrance was heavily guarded, and word would travel to Thorin the moment she walked across the bridge. It was too cold to stay outside much longer, but Signi was numb to it. She didn't need a torch to light her path as she made her way toward the old watchtower, stumbling up the worn stone steps to the top. Thorin would find her, she did not doubt that, but it would give her time to calm the shaking in her hands and the tears streaming down her face.
Signi heard Thorin's heavy steps as he approached, anticipation rumbling within her like a distant storm. More than an hour had passed since she returned, the shouts in Dale slowly subsiding and the clanking sounds of a marching army making its way back to Erebor fading in the darkness. Wrapped tightly in her cloak, Signi leaned against the stone wall, its jutting edges pressing sharply into her back, reminding her that she was alive despite Brasi's attempts otherwise.
The footsteps stopped in the arched doorway, and Signi scrunched her eyes shut to avoid looking in Thorin's direction.
The king moved quickly, crouching beside her and pushing back her hood.
"Signi,"he breathed, his hands hovering above her as though he was waiting for her permission.
Slowly she faced him, a wain smile on her lips. Thorin looked her over quickly, his hand gently lifting her chin. His expression darkened when he saw the bruise forming on the narrow column of her throat.
"Who has done this to you," he said hoarsely, "I will kill him."
Signi shook her head and pulled away from him. "No, Thorin. It doesn't matter. I gave him a wound of his own with one of those daggers you gave me."
For a moment Thorin looked like he could just as easily finish the job Brasi started. "Mahal," he growled, sitting back on his heels. "Why were you there? Do you know how worried I-" Thorin cut himself off, pressing a fist to him mouth as he took a deep breath through his nose. "I have been looking all over the mountain for you. You never came to dinner. Dain said you were looking for me…"
Signi froze at the mention of Dain. She wondered just how much Thorin's cousin had shared about their conversation. "Sigrid invited me to dinner," she said, hoping that the pitch she had rehearsed that afternoon would suffice.
Thorin scowled. "And it didn't occur to you to let me know. Mahal, Signi, I haven't been sending guards with you for no reason. And tonight of all nights…I suspect that is why you didn't tell me? You thought I might say no?"
Signi met his scowl with one of her own. Pushing away from him, she stood up, brushing the snow off of her skirts. Thorin followed, his glare unwavering as he continued to chastise her.
"Why are you so determined to undermine me?" Thorin's tone shifted as he spoke, and Signi could hear the unmistakable fear gathering in his words. He wasn't upset about her unwillingness to follow his authority, but rather her unwillingness to allow his protection of her.
Crossing her arms tightly, Signi sighed as she turned to face him. "It wasn't the men that caused this."
"Caused what? The riot or your injury?" he growled.
"Both?" she shrugged. "Yes the men were drunk, but they have no one to celebrate with on a night meant for family. You can hardly blame them for that. If Stonehelm and Brasi hadn't of arrived, the riot would never have happened."
"Stonehelm," Thorin hissed, his face contorting into an expression Signi had never seen. "And your injury? A dwarf caused this?"
Signi did not answer. She didn't know what was keeping her from telling the whole truth, but she had a feeling that nothing would stop the king from introducing Brasi to the Orcist if she blamed him.
Thorin swore at her silence, turning away from her to peer out over the darkened path toward Dale. Signi stayed in place, her eyes watching the King closely for any shift in his ever changing mood. His confrontation to this point had not gone as expected, and despite all of his growls and snarls, none of the ire seemed to be directed at her. She wondered just how long that attitude would last.
When he spoke at last, his words were nearly lost in the wind. "I have struggled in vain, but I don't have the strength to struggle much longer. My feelings will not be repressed." He turned his head slightly, peering sideways at her. "I must tell you how ardently I admire you and…I love you."
Signi, too astonished to speak, stared at the king, her eyes wide and mouth falling open with a response that she could not form. Her mind tried frantically to connect their previous conversation with the words he had just uttered, but no part of it made sense to her. He loved her? How could that be possible?
Unfortunately, Thorin took her for silence for approval. Facing her, he grasped her hands in his, pulling her closer as he continued his confession. The council would not approve he explained, but that mattered not. He told her of his trips into the treasury, and how her image was the only thing that sustained him as he walked through the mounds of treasure, how he took the Arkenstone in hand and could see with clarity Signi beside him as queen of Erebor.
Signi pulled away from Thorin as he spoke, her anger rising, but he did not let go of her hands.
"The Arkenstone," she hissed. "Are you mad?"
Thorin's eyes widened and he allowed her hands to slip from his.
"That's just it," he said. "With you by my side, I can rule under the Arkenstone and unite the dwarf kingdoms once more. I can't do that now without the madness returning, and without the dwarf kingdoms' support, I can't get Brasi off of the council. They think I am a fool, but they are fools, every last one of them. Erebor needs you…I need you…I ask you to end my agony…be my wife"
Signi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her mind swirling with disjointed thoughts. A dwarf like Thorin, a king, as asking for her hand in marriage. She supposed that nothing could please her mother more. It wouldn't matter that in a few years her father would die and Gimli could turn them out of their Iron Hills home. If she were queen, her family would be secure at Erebor forever. Mahal, what a ridiculous thought that was. Queen? She barely deserved the title of "Lady", according to a majority of those sitting on the council chamber. And what as it that Thorin said? The council thought him a fool? All she had to do was marry him and he could get the Arkenstone and prove them all wrong. What a ridiculous thought. It was a coward's way of dealing with the council, and cowardice was not a good look for Thorin Oakenshield.
Dain's conversation from that afternoon surfaced, and Signi found herself seething once more. Her sister was too poor a choice to marry the crown prince, but Thorin would make an exception for her? The nerve of him to declare his affection so urgently when he denied her dear sister from ever experiencing such an opportunity from her one true love.
"I appreciate the struggle you have been through," she said, her eyes not quite meeting his as she stilled the wavering in her voice. "I am very sorry to have caused you pain – believe me, it was unconsciously done. Perhaps your servitude to your council that has prevented such unions with my family before will help you overcome these feelings quickly."
Thorin's face drained of color, his eyes darkening as he processed her response to his proposal. "Are you rejecting me?"
"I am."
"And why, might I inquire, with so little consideration have you refused?"
"I might as well inquire why you, without the intention of insulting me, chose to tell me that it was against your better judgement to ask me in the first place. Oh wait, I mean the judgement of your council." Signi's voice rose with her temper, her words coming out harsher than intended.
"That is not what I meant –"
"I have other reasons!" she shouted.
Thorin took a step back. "What reasons?"
"Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the dwarf that has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of my dearest sister?"
Thorin's eyes widened at her words, but he had not response, no argument against her accusations.
"Do you deny it?" she breathed, watching for any change. He did not respond. "Do you deny separating a couple in love, exposing your nephew to the judgement of the kingdom for impulsiveness, and my sister to its derision for unfounded dreams?"
"I do not deny it," he said quietly.
"Why?"
"He was too quick in love and she indifferent. I watched them closely, his affection was much too deep and hers not enough."
"My sister is modest," Signi cried. "She is not daft enough to fawn over the prince in public…I'm sure that her lack of fortune had some bearing on the matter."
Thorin hesitated as he stared into the darkness, gathering his thoughts. "I wouldn't dishonor your sister in that way, although it was suggested-"
"What was?"
With a sigh, he continued. "It was suggested that an advantageous marriage would be –"
"Did Lifa give you that impression?" Signi asked sharply.
"No," he answered quickly. "There was the matter of your family –"
"My family! Because my family supported an attachment with Prince Fili?"
"Of course not," he said. "It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your younger sisters, and on occasions, your father…"
Signi huffed, her arms crossed tightly across her chest again. Her thoughts grasping childishly at anything that could wound him. " And what about Stonehelm. What excuse do you have for your behavior towards him?"
"Stonehelm?" Thorin spat. "What interest do you have in his concerns?"
"He told me of his misfortunes by your hand."
"Oh yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed," he growled.
"Unbelievable!" Signi shouted, no longer holding back her frustration. "You admit to separating my sister from Prince Fili, you mock Stonehelm after ruining any chances of success in Ered Luin, and you ask me to accept your hand against your better judgement so you can hold the Arkenstone once more. And all of this is supposed to tempt me into accepting? You were stronger than this – a king does not need as stone to give him power, and he definitely doesn't need a dwarrowdam to hold his hand so he can look a powerless stone."
"So this is your opinion of me," Thorin said, his voice hollow and his face stony. "Thank you for explaining it to me in such detail. Perhaps these faults in my character could have been overlooked if I had not described to you my apprehensions of such a union. Your pride would not have suffered and I might have flattered you with the proposal of a king."
"Ha!" snapped Signi. "And these are the words of a king! From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish distain of the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last dwarf in all of Arda that I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"
Thorin took a step back as though he had been slapped, the stinging words uttered by Signi still hanging in the air between them. She could not take them back, even if she wanted to.
"Forgive me, my lady, for your time," he said, his words stilted and formal. Thorin's retreat was much faster than his arrival, his footsteps thundering on the stairs as he hurried back to the safety of his mountain. Signi slid against the stone wall to sit on the ground once more, burying her face in her hands.
The song Signi sings is the English translation of I tokuni by Eivør.
I have bits of the book and 2005 film version of Pride and Prejudice in Thorin's proposal.
Yes, there is a Beauty and the Beast quote hiding in there ;)
