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A change of heart
Thorin stood close to the fire with his hand propped at the stone mantel piece long after his wife left. He couldn't feel any remorse for treating Othin so aggressively, because he was still raw from what Eilin went through because of him. When it concerned his wife, Thorin was operating one dimensionally and had no kind of diplomacy whatsoever. Those who hurt her became his worst enemy, those who treated her with respect and love were his friends. Little did Othin's reasons for abandoning his daughter matter to the King even though he understood that this dark story didn't have any real villains.
The line between right and wrong was washed-out in his mind and sometimes he thoroughly ignored it. That day at the High Road he knew that he was treating Eilin's father unfairly and that if one day she found out, he would be in deep trouble. Still the need to avenge her suffering was too powerful to overlook.
She begged him not to lie to her anymore and he agreed. She begged him to tell her everything he felt and everything he thought, yet now only a few days later he was already breaking his solemn oath by keeping Othin's identity a secret. Could he reveal the truth to Eilin? Was that even proper? That wasn't his decision to make and he couldn't intervene and reveal anything when Othin himself had chosen to remain incognito. Even though he wanted to keep his promise to Eilin, he couldn't come between father and daughter. That would be dishonorable.
His heart complained with a sudden wave of bitterness and his brow clouded as he stirred the molten metal in the heavy pot. Then leaned his sweaty forehead upon his forearm wondering how his life had become even more complicated than it already was. So lost in his contemplations he was that he didn't hear Aragorn's voice.
"My Lord, you called for me?"
Thorin's eyes remained glued upon the bubbles that were bursting lazily inside the hot pot.
Aragorn took a step closer. "King Thorin?"
No answer still.
Aragorn looked above his back, not knowing if it was wise for him to bother the daydreaming of the King or if he should leave. He decided to try one last time. "My King?"
Thorin blinked and a small crease appeared on his forehead. He turned slowly and a small smile formed upon his lips. "I have been expecting you."
"I didn't know if I should bother. You looked so drawn in by your thoughts." Aragorn countered the smile.
"I called you here, didn't I?" Thorin drew away from the fire, feeling the air around him unable to dry out the rivers of sweat that were coursing upon his skin.
Aragorn tilted his head. "I am all yours."
Thorin stood above the anvil where the huge mold stood, empty and cold. "I called you to join us in Erebor in order to offer you and Lady Arwen a few more carefree days before you return back to the Rangers."
Aragorn's face fell. "And I thank you for that."
"Yet that was not the only reason." Thorin frowned.
Aragorn looked up at that.
Thorin placed his foot on his stool and propped his elbows upon his bend thigh. Then his eyes penetrated the confused countenance of the Ranger. "I am not used to tread around a hot topic with care, therefore I am going to be honest with you."
"I appreciate that." Aragorn inclined his head.
"Lord Elrond informed me that you are wavering with doubt."
Aragorn flared his shoulders.
"Doubt…about your role in the things to come." Thorin raised his brow.
Aragorn gave him a soft nod. "Lord Elrond is not wrong."
"We have discussed about the difficulty of having to carry the weight of an immense heritage before, remember?" Thorin said quietly.
Aragorn nodded solemnly. "I never forgot our conversation."
"Yet there is still reservation kindling in your heart."
Aragorn obviously hesitated. "It is very hard for me to reconcile my lineage to the simple life I lived up to now. I told you before, I don't know how to think like a King, despite the fact that I stand next to them like an equal." He bend his head courteously.
Thorin reciprocated. "Yet it is who you are. One cannot erase the royal blood that runs in his veins…."
Aragorn rubbed his forehead. "I wasn't raised a King."
"You were raised a warrior and that is what a true King is at heart." The intensity of Thorin's deep voice held Aragorn anchored.
The Ranger pressed his lips. "I cannot take over a land and the fate of so many people without knowing how to do it, my Lord. That would be irresponsible."
Thorin shook his head gently. "You don't have to learn what your heart already knows how to do. The uncertainty you feel is not because you lack the knowledge, but because you have lost focus."
Aragorn closed his eyes and his clear brow filled with shadows of doubt. "I never lost focus. My mind is always thinking the great deeds of my legendary ancestors and that is what truly plants doubt in my heart. I cannot follow their footsteps. I don't know how."
Thorin scowled deeply. "It is one thing to carry the legacy of your forefathers and another to recreate it. No one is asking you to do such a thing. You must carve your own path in this world."
Aragorn looked up at that with eyes full of emotion. "My own path. That is even harder especially when I have raise up to some pretty mighty names."
"But worth the effort. Your forefathers don't wish you to continue their legacy, but rather to see you create your own kingship." Thorin's lips curled up in a soft smile.
Aragorn's eyes watered.
"You need to regain focus and I believe a blast from the past can do that for you." Thorin's scowl became more profound.
Aragorn crossed his arms. "I know everything about my ancestors…what else can you do in order to wake up the past?"
"A lost man walking in a dark tunnel only needs the faintest light to help him find his way out. When my family fell I didn't have an heirloom to help me regain focus. I only had my memories and a crown that awaited me inside this forlorn Kingdom. Yet you are different. You have a family treasure….one so important, that its name alone makes the fiends of hell quake before it." Thorin looked at the ruins of the old sword.
Aragorn turned his stare towards the cushion also and his brows twitched.
"You were too young when you last saw them. You might not remember much, but I am sure Elrond never stopped talking about them to you." Thorin said quietly.
Aragorn hesitated and took a few steps closer before his breath caught. "I haven't seen these in ages …"
Thorin's mouth twitched. "You recognize them?"
Aragorn's his eyes surged with unbidden tears. It took him several moments to be able to talk once more. "The Shards of Narsil."
Thorin smiled calmly. "This was an honorable weapon, forged in the First Age by the best sword-smith of my kin, the great Telchar of Tumunzahar."
Aragorn's extended fingers lingered above the ruins that were shining under the reddish hue of the blazing fire. A small drop of sweat formed above his expressive eyes. "Lord Elrond never told me why the sword disappeared or where they had taken it."
"I see." Thorin rejoined.
Aragorn turned sharply. "I was too young then to understand what this heirloom meant for me, but now I do. Why didn't the ruins of the sword of my ancestors remain where I grew up, close to me?"
"Because the Dwarven Lord who forged this sword is the Queen's ancestor. Maybe this sword belongs to your bloodline, but the Queen's bloodline forged it." Thorin raised his brow with austerity.
Aragorn paused at that and withdrew his hand respectfully. "In that case I should not stand above it like its legal owner, nor shall I dream of ever brandishing it."
Thorin pursed his lips. "Care to stir the liquid iron for me?"
Aragorn frowned and with one last regretful look towards Narsil he took the long tongs and went to the fireplace wordlessly.
Thorin picked up the broken pieces of the sword one by one without taking the handle-shard. He knew that Aragorn was observing all his movements quietly as Thorin walked back to his anvil and placed them inside the heavy stone mold in an order that made perfect sense to his experienced eyes. "How does it feel standing next to this legendary sword?"
Aragorn unglued his eyes from Thorin and turned towards the pot. "Too painful to bear, knowing that I cannot touch it." His voice was choked.
Thorin gave another critical look at the mold and then walked over to take the handle. He opened up his old satchel that had various intricate tools and chose the one he wanted. Then he began loosening the worn out leather that was around the handle carefully without destroying it. So focused he was at his work that he didn't see Aragorn abandoning the fire and looming above his shoulder in order to observe him at work. It was the voice of his son Thrárin that made him look up after a long time.
"Daddy?"
Thorin's face lit up. "What are you doing here my red-headed warrior?"
Thrárin ran and climbed on Thorin's lap without caring how sweaty his father was. "I left Durin and Rhianaye at the library. They were boring."
Thorin smirked. "Durin studying the runes of the Elders?"
"And Rhianaye yelling at him." -Thrárin nodded, while his eyes were looking towards the leather strap that Thorin had managed to loosen enough in order to slip it off the handle carefully- "What are you doing daddy?"
"Preparing to mold a very important sword." Thorin rejoined casually.
Aragorn looked at him abruptly with eyes that held in them unbelievable tension.
"Can I help?!" Thrárin clapped his hands.
Thorin kissed Thrárin's cool cheek and rubbed his nose on his temple. "We have to ask the sword's owner my love."
Aragorn felt his heart stopping.
Thorin turned to him slowly. "Can my son help?"
Aragorn's lips parted but he was devoid of speech.
"You are the sword's owner so you decide if the prince can help out with it or not." Thorin face was deadpan.
Aragorn took a step back. "You said that it belonged to Telchar."
Thorin raised his hand. "I told you it belonged to both your family and mine, but mine gifted it to yours once upon many centuries. Therefore I shall do the same now."
Aragorn remained silently bemused, but strong emotions were depicted upon his broken features.
"Shall we repeat the question?" He looked down at his son.
Thrárin beamed up to the Ranger. "Can I forthe the sword with my daddy, Sir?"
Aragorn's eyes were burning with fresh tears. "It will be…an honor….for me." His voice was diminished.
Thorin nodded towards the melting pot. "Stir the molten iron. I want the temperature to be even when you pour it in the mold."
Thrárin giggled and clapped his hands. "I will learn how to forthe!"
"Forge…" -Thorin kissed Thrárin's nose and then grabbed the handle-shard with a long pincer while lifting up the heavy hammer with the other- "Will you help me break it apart?"
"Yeah!" Thrárin shouted enthusiastically and stepped on Thorin's thighs. He grabbed a fist-full of Thorin's hair to steady himself and tried to clutch his father's huge hand, which was practically impossible.
Thorin chuckled and threw the first hammer throw with Thrarin's assistance. "From the moment I saw my firstborn son, I longed to have him learn my trade."
Aragorn looked up from the fire with eyes that were watery and red.
Thorin didn't even see him, yet he continued musingly. "However it was early on when he decided to be totally disinterested in the art of forging. So when Thrárin came along I had already given up hope that I would be able to pass my knowledge down to one of my children."
Aragorn smiled sadly.
"However the young prince showed an unprecedented enthusiasm whenever he saw me working upon the anvil. He tried to lift his first hammer when he was a little more than one years old. I made him a wooden one so he could work alongside me at his toys. Remember?" Thorin smiled at his son.
Thrárin scowled with determination and pushed his father's hand up with a groan. "Another throw dad, it is not broken yet."
Thorin did so and that throw was mighty enough to detach the handle from the large shard that cut off Sauron's ring-bearing finger. "I knew right there and then that we had a sword-smith in the making and after that day he always escaped his siblings and his mother in order to come down and see me forge. Much like he did today. Right?" He nudged Thrárin's cheek with his nose.
"Yeah daddy. Can I put these in the pot?" Thrárin jumped off his lap and pointed at the pieces that Thorin broke with his mighty hammer.
"Arrange them carefully between the spaces." Thorin pointed out.
Thrárin picked them up with religious care and then began placing them inside. "Okay…" He mumbled with his huge blue eyes deeply concentrated on the important task his father gave him.
"Will you work on the sword now?" Aragorn's voice was heavy with unspoken emotions.
"No. Today you shall help us make a mold of the new sword from the ruins of the old, but the forging will take place over time. I will do it slowly with the help of my boy and one day when you will be ready to wield it, Thrárin will present it to you with his mother's blessings." -Thorin said proudly and gave a gentle caress at Thrárin's long red locks before steadying the remains of the handle and throwing the hammer on it again. Then he turned to his boy. "Do you know the importance of this sword son?"
Thrárin grinned. "Is it famous, is it huge, is it brilliant?"
"It is all of those and even more. Now be careful…don't crowd the pieces." He leaned above Thrárin and helped him out.
The boy nodded and followed his father's instructions.
"Thank you so much for allowing me to partake in this." Aragorn said quietly.
"This sword needed to feel your energy as it is reborn on the anvil and you needed to remember a big part of your history and regain focus. You were not born a simple man and neither shall you live as one. We shall see great things from you in the future." Thorin looked at him above his shoulder.
Aragorn nodded with a knowing smile. "I will try to live up to your expectations."
"How much do you know about this trade?"
"I have been observing our sword-smiths back in Rivendell. I don't know much, but I know enough to understand that you are using an ancient method for re-forging a broken sword." Aragorn replied.
"I don't believe much in the modern ways to do things. While putting the broken pieces together and fixing the sword as it originally was is an acceptable way to smith nowadays, I don't believe in mending broken things. I like to take the pieces of ruined history and create something new out of them. Your reborn sword may not resemble Narsil anymore, but it will be similar to you my friend. It will be something new that the world has never seen before in action, but it will carry in it the heritage of the old wars it had partaken in….much like you." Thorin's mouth curled up in a soft smile.
Aragorn wiped away a tear that trickled down his nose and looked away.
Thorin's smile was eloquent. "Come bring over the molten iron."
Aragorn squared his shoulders and frowned with renewed determination. He wore the heavy gloves and picked it up.
"Can I help you mister?" Thrárin was jumping all around him.
"You can hold my forearm while I pour it in." Aragorn smirked.
Thrárin's eyes twinkled with pride. "Thank you!" He said and clutched Aragorn's elbow tightly.
"Show me where to go." Aragorn winked at the Prince playfully.
Thrárin's eyes became seriously concentrated at the task as he led Aragorn or so he thought he did.
Thorin's heart filled with warmth and he crossed his arms as he observed his son taking this duty so seriously. When the mold was full with the liquid metal, Aragorn placed the heavy pot aside and turned to look at it mesmerized. "The new sword…"
Thorin lifted the mold with unprotected hands and banged it against the anvil a couple of times to get rid of any bubbles.
"Which also needs a new name!" Thrárin shouted.
"When the time comes I am sure the sound of the hammer throws upon it will sing to me that name." Thorin murmured with a musing smile.
"Maybe we can call it Ik-kund, daddy." Thrárin grinned.
"The wolf?" Thorin raised his brow.
"Because you are making it!" Thrárin clapped his hands.
Thorin caressed his nose with the tip of his soot-filled finger, leaving a long trace. "We need something less personal than that, because this sword will belong to another King."
"How about Mahtar?" Aragorn whispered.
"Swordsman?" Thorin frowned.
"Yes…" Aragorn was looking breathlessly at the iron becoming dark and hard inside the mold.
"That is a name that carries a lot of power in it. I shall see when the time comes." Thorin returned with a soft smile. Then he grabbed Thrárin by the waist and engulfed him in his huge embrace.
Thrárin giggled and kicked in order to be released. "Let me go! Let me go!"
Thorin pushed Thrárin's head away with his nose and buried his mouth at his soft neck. Something that drove the Prince wild with laughter. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
Thrárin took a handful of Thorin's curls and tried to pluck them out. "I am ticklish! Stop it! Hahaha!"
Thorin let him go with a last firm kiss on his chin and then looked at Aragorn who was observing the mold. "Any uncertainties now young man? How do you feel?"
Aragorn closed his eyes and two teardrops run down cheeks. "Awestricken, wordless and captivated by the history that now lays trapped inside this new sword, but above all eager to brandish it for a just cause." He whispered overcome.
Thorin smiled. "When you feel lost, remember what you helped me do here today and allow your heart to lead you. Not all wars are fought sword-at-hand. Many are fought in here." –Thorin placed his hand above Aragorn's heart- "And those battles are the most important ones." He smiled.
Aragorn clasped Thorin's hand passionately and brought it to his lips. "Thank you for everything."
Thorin pulled it away and pressed the Ranger's shoulder. "Keep your heart as pure as it is now and the future that you will offer to your people will be bright. I can feel it." He whispered.
It was Thrárin's voice that broke the spell between the two Kings. "When can we start forging this daddy?" He was jumping tirelessly around Thorin's anvil.
Thorin pursed his lips. "It is not time yet."
Thrárin's face fell. "When then?"
Thorin turned to the Ranger. "This man will let us know." He smiled knowingly.
Aragorn closed his eyes and smiled. "Will I know myself?"
It took several moments for Thorin to speak again. "You will, for that I am certain. If there is one thing I learned through all my hardships is that every single fight we ever had or we will ever have is worth to be fought just for our children. If not for anything else, then giving them a future is the best reason to shed your blood and sacrifice your life for. You may not have your own kids yet, but you must stand tall and act on behalf of the children of your people, for they are also yours and they deserve to live in a world that is devoid of darkness. They deserve a world that will be ruled by an honorable King who will always have their best interests at heart." The emotion in his voice was obvious as he hugged Thrárin tightly.
Aragorn lowered his head and closed his eyes, wordlessly. A soft nod of understanding was the only thing he could have added to those final profound words of the King.
Rhianaye looked around her with eyes full of wonder. "Why are we here mom?"
Eilin clasped her hand tightly and looked around the room that held the Queen's personal treasures, jewelry and expensive gems. Even before they married Thorin had begun gifting her with rather expensive jewelry, but after their marriage and the birth of the twins he went full out on his gifting spree and gave the masons orders to build a room within the vaults which would belong to the Queen and hold behind it's golden gilded doors all of her luxurious ornaments. "I haven't brought you here many times my darling."
Rhianaye released her mom's hand and walked over to a large circular platform in the middle of the room which was full of cushions holding bracelets, tiaras, necklaces, rings and arm-bands of the most exquisite gold and from the most brilliant gems Erebor owned. "These are all yours, aren't they?" Rhianaye seemed truly enchanted.
Eilin sat at the edge of the platform. "Yes, indeed they are." She murmured.
Rhianaye chose a rather impressive golden ring that has a bright sapphire stone upon it and tried it on her finger. "Why aren't you wearing any of them?"
Eilin's thin fingers caressed the dove pendant that was around her neck which was now always escorted by Thorin's Royal Ring. "Even though these love tokens speak straight to my heart, they are not who I truly am, my love."
"Dad gave you all these gifts?" Rhianaye picked up one of the tiaras and placed it crookedly on her head.
Eilin tried to straighten it. "Yes."
"So don't you like them?" Rhianaye scowled.
"I said they are not who I truly am here." -She touched her heart- "Not that I don't love your father for what he's been doing for me all these years or that I don't like them."
"Doesn't he get hurt when he doesn't see you wearing them?" Rhianaye wrapped a beautiful thin bracelet around her wrist.
"He knows me. I don't think he truly minds." Eilin fixed it for her.
"Then why doesn't he stop giving such gifts to you?" Rhianaye frowned.
"Because he is a Dwarf-Lord and that is how they express their love." Eilin blushed.
Rhianaye stopped in front of her mom and pursed her lips. "Mom, are you avoiding all these things, because you lived in that tavern when you were a baby?"
Eilin felt her eyes burning and caressed her daughter's arms. She has spoken without any fears or regrets about her past to her children. She revealed the poverty and the humiliation she experienced in the hands of lesser men and women until Dis and Thorin came her way and changed her life forever. The only thing she kept from her kids was her rape and that was something that she didn't ever intend to reveal to them. Such a knowledge would stain the fond memories of their childhood with a darkness that Eilin wished to keep away from them. "I didn't grow up used to this kind of luxury. I appreciate it more than I can say, but still I feel uncomfortable dressing this way."
"Even though you are the Queen of the North?" Rhianaye asked.
"You need to understand something important my love. Your true value comes from the heart and your most important treasure is what you have inside your mind. Everything else matters little. I lived a very rough life and so did your father when his people were in exile. We were both very poor for several years of our lives."
Rhianaye nodded. "I know."
Eilin smiled. "He and I grew up so differently, yet during our lives we suffered such similar fates. He was born and raised a Prince of the Crown, like you and your siblings, yet he suffered like I did. I was born a slave. I was the one who was serving the lowest of the low. I slept in a dark room which was full of flies, cockroaches and mosquitos and sometimes at the barn amidst the animal droppings. My friends were rodents and my entertainment included feeding ants to the spiders."
Rhianaye scrounged her nose. "Yack!"
Eilin tucked a long lock behind her daughter's ear. "That is the place I grew up in though and that is what made me who I am today…the woman whom unbelievably stole the heart of your father." She felt her stomach bubbling up at that thought.
"Daddy didn't care that you were his maiden!" Rhianaye grinned.
Eilin smiled softly. "Your dad is an exceptional man, but I believe we also had lady luck on our side."
Rhianaye frowned. "Why?"
"If I was born a Princess do you think your father would have met me?" Eilin raised her brow.
"Maybe!" Rhianaye raised her finger.
"Okay true. Would he had loved me, since I wouldn't be the same woman I am right now? He always says it was my heart that stole his. Do you think my heart would have been the same had I grown up in such a prosperous place?" She pointed elegantly at the room.
Rhianaye's face fell. "No…" She took off her tiara disheartened.
Eilin smiled sweetly. "That is one of the reasons I am not wearing all this jewelry you see around you. That is why I don't want to bring you here all the time. I don't want you to grow up feeling entitled. I never want you to forget that your mother once upon a time slept upon a dirty floor inside a cold room with no windows or that your father slept in the woods in the midst of his people, cold and hungry. We went through hell…both of us…to get here. I slaved for many masters who treated me cruelly and your father fought countless wars and shed his blood countless times in order to reclaim this mountain and its riches for his people and for you."
"I know mommy." Rhianaye's lip pouted.
"If by some ill twist of fate someone took everything away from us, right now...be sure my love that we would survive and that we would do the best we could to provide everything for you and your siblings. Above all though remember that we would succeed. You know why that is possible?"
Rhianaye shook her head.
"Because your father is an amazing sword-smith who can sell his trade for money and I…." –Eilin smiled- "I can work anywhere! I can work in homes, in the fields, in hotels, cooking, ploughing the land, hunting, cleaning, farming …I am not afraid of any kind of work and you can be sure I'd do it to offer you and your siblings a proper home."
Rhianaye smiled brightly and embraced her mom. "I would help too!"
"I know honey. Everybody would help and we'd be happy. You know why?" Eilin kissed her cheek and wiped a stray tear that escaped her eye.
"Because we love each other?" Rhianaye pulled back and looked at her.
Eilin smiled proudly. "Yes and love conquers every difficulty!"
Rhianaye clapped her hands. "I know mommy! Can you teach me a trade? Anything that I can do to help my family in case of need?"
Eilin looked at the lavish possessions around them and felt her heart elating. "Your father thinks it is very important for you to learn the Runes of the Elders and the basics of war training, as well as riding and the proper etiquette that goes along with your titles as a Princess. I agree, yet I think you'd benefit a lot from learning to work the lands in order to grow your own produce. What do you think of that?"
Rhianaye's eyes grew wide. "Can we start now?!"
"Of course darling. This set of skills will help you survive without the safety of all this extravaganza around you." Eilin's brow clouded.
"I will promise dad that I won't abandon my academics. I can do both!" Rhianaye nibbled her forefinger thoughtfully.
Eilin's mouth formed a faded smile. "Of course you can. All of you kids must learn how to work with your hands, not only with your minds. Like Thrárin who wants to learn how to forge and Durin who is…who is…" Eilin frowned taken slightly aback when she realized that her oldest son wasn't interested at all in any kind of practical trade.
"He loves learning how to make arrows and bows with Master Urkar." Rhianaye said eagerly.
Eilin's face lit up. "Oh, he'd make a marvelous wood carver then…"
Rhianaye clapped and then stopped and her face filled with curiosity. "And an academic, because dad is very strict on that."
"And a warrior. That was predetermined for all you kids ever since you were in my belly." Eilin pinched her nose.
Rhianaye's countenance took a plunge at that. "A warrior? Even me?"
Eilin grinned. "Of course."
Rhianaye lips curled down. "Mom…" She muttered.
Eilin heard the defeat in her voice. "Don't tell me you have doubts because you are a girl. Haven't you seen how good Lis is becoming?"
Rhianaye's eyes welled. "Well Lis is not unhealthy!"
Eilin's brow creased in confusion. "What are these words my love?!"
Rhianaye pointed at her legs. "Look at them! They are so weak I cannot sit on a horse long enough to learn how to ride properly mom. I will never become a warrior."
Eilin cupped her cheeks and scowled. "What kind of nonsense is this?"
Rhianaye pulled her head away and pointed again at her legs. "I always had a difficulty walking. I know mom….I know I am different from my siblings."
Eilin's eyes settled angrily. "Yes you are different from them. You are our precious Little Gem. Did you know that when you were born and you were so cold it was your father who wore you most of the time skin to skin in order to warm you up? He didn't allow either auntie Dis or me to do it. That is how much he loved you…how much he still loves you. I love you so much that my heart aches when you think so low of yourself. Neither your father nor I ever cared that you had a mild inconvenience walking. Your mind is truly exceptional! See how easy it is for you to learn the Elder Runes and how hard it is for Durin who is supposedly so strong and adept physically. You have such superior intelligence that all your teachers are bereft of speech. You have no idea how proud we are of you."
"Really mom?" A smile ghosted Rhianaye's lips.
Eilin caressed her jawline with her thump musingly. "Listen to me young lady. You have inherited your father's remarkable beauty, his second to none perceptiveness and dare I say my patience and kindness of heart. You need nothing more in order to succeed in life. You can become anything you wish! A warrior, an academic, a counselor to the rulership of your twin, the best cook of Erebor, the most adept farmer in all the lands, the best rider, the most amazing archer….anything! In my eyes though you will always be the most beautiful Princess in all the Seven Kingdoms and the bravest little girl anyone had ever seen. You are my Little Gem…my precious little girl." Eilin's eyes gushed with tears.
Rhianaye hugged her tightly. "Don't cry mom…I am not sad, just frustrated sometimes."
Eilin kissed her cheek and closed her eyes. "I know my love."
"I sometimes feel that I might not be pretty enough…to earn so many gifts from a boy someday." Rhianaye pointed around her dejected.
"What did I say about your being the prettiest and the cleverest Princess in all the lands?" Eilin scowled with austerity.
Rhianaye cupped her mouth and giggled. "Okay mom."
"Now tell me. Do you have your eyes set upon a boy?" Eilin cleared her face and smiled.
"No way! If I'd ever marry anyone that'd be my dad." Rhianaye said seriously.
Eilin had to choke a snort that climbed up her throat. "Of course, how could I have missed that one?"
"He is married to you though, so I can't…therefore I won't ever marry." Rhianaye continued with the same seriousness.
Eilin pursed her lips. "Never say never."
Rhianaye's shoulders slouched. "Mom?"
Eilin caressed her girl's hair. "Yes, baby."
"Do you think someday a very handsome boy will fall in love with me and give me so many precious gifts?" Rhianaye's countenance was full of sadness.
Eilin frowned. "But of course. Is there any doubt?"
Rhianaye shrugged.
"Any boy who will be lucky enough to grab your attention, he'd be a fool not to gift you the world in order to keep you by his side."
Rhianaye beamed and her beauty blinded Eilin who felt her heart swelling. "I like that."
Eilin's brow creased and she cupped her daughter's cheeks tenderly. "However remember…the boy who will be worth to stand by your side will be the one who will make your heart fill with love, not your hands fill with jewelry. He will respect you, listen to you, be mindful and gentle. He will find ways to show you his love every single moment and even during your darkest moments…he will never make you question how much he loves you. Instead of expecting him to give you a room full of jewelry just ask him to give you his heart…forever."
"Did dad do all that?" Rhianaye smiled.
"All that and even more." A loving smile appeared on her lips.
Rhianaye nodded. "Okay mommy."
"People are not perfect my love. We are all flawed. We sometimes hurt the ones we love….but what matters is your heart being in the right place." Eilin added.
"I will try not to hurt anyone." Rhianaye scowled.
"You will fail…so I'd advise you practice how to heal your loved ones afterwards and never repeat your mistakes more than…twice." Eilin smiled knowingly.
Rhianaye caressed her mom's very long hair. "Mommy?"
Eilin scrounged her nose. "Yeeees?"
"Can we keep this jewelry even though you are not wearing it?" Rhianaye said in a sing song manner.
"Do you see them going anywhere? Your father would kill me if I ever did anything to his gifts." Eilin smiled.
"Can I come here from time to time and try them on?" Rhianaye said bashfully.
Eilin picked up the tiara and placed it on her daughter's head. "I'd love for you to do that. I want you to learn how to live without all these things, but I also want you to enjoy them. Did you know I wore this tiara on my wedding day?"
Rhianaye's eyes glimmered. "You did?!"
Eilin nodded.
Rhianaye grinned enthusiastically. "Thanks for bringing me down here mom."
Eilin sighed and picked up a delicate necklace from one of the pillows that had a simple yet elegant white-gold design around a flower that had diamonds for petals. She stroked it thoughtfully.
"What is this?" Rhianaye's eyes twinkled.
"I will offer it as a gift to a very pretty Elf." Eilin said quietly and her eyes were full of love as they looked at the graceful pendant.
"Isn't dad going to be mad if you give his gift to someone else?" Rhianaye frowned.
"Dad asked me to do it." Eilin's face softened.
"Whom will you give it to?" Rhianaye nibbled her bottom lip.
"A woman who has a wish that feels so familiar to my heart." Eilin whispered.
"What's her wish mom?"
"To be with the man she loves, despite all the controversies…." -Eilin looked at her daughter for a few brief moments tensely and then her face opened up with a bright smile- "I want to give this lucky pendant to Lady Arwen so she can be blessed with many children from the man she loves."
Rhianaye fidgeted nervously. "Is this pendant lucky then?"
"I believe it is, for I wore it when we captured Thrarin…but it is not luckier than this." Eilin pointed at the dove pendant.
Rhianaye beamed.
"This is the luckiest pendant of them all!" Eilin pinched her cheek.
"Can I have it then!?" Rhianaye grinned.
"You can have it only after I die. This pendant will never leave me before that." Eilin rejoined solemnly.
Rhianaye hugged her tightly. "Then I will never have it, because I will never let you die!"
Eilin sighed and kissed her daughter's soft neck. "Don't worry my love….I will never die."
Rhianaye closed her eyes and her smile was radiant.
"Dad why is this door broken?" Thrárin asked.
Thorin pressed his lips and glared at Dwalin side-ways.
"Dad?" Thrárin pulled his hand.
"The kid is asking you a question." Dwalin crossed his arms.
"I heard him." Thorin rejoined heavily.
"You are not answering him though." Dwalin pressed.
Thorin huffed angrily and gritted his teeth.
"Is Urkar inside?" Thrárin made to knock on the door.
Thorin pulled him back. "Don't!" He thundered.
"Well, is he inside? Did we just come here to admire his ruined door?" Dwalin chimed in sounding truly annoyed.
Thorin lowered his chin and stared intensely at his best friend. "You know I haven't had a good training session for a long time. I am itching to kick someone ass….hard."
"I am on." Dwalin squared his shoulders.
So did Thorin.
Thrárin slipped out of his hand and knocked on the door. "Master Urkar?" He shouted.
Thorin swept him up in his arms. "Why did you knock for heaven's sake?"
"We came all the way down here, why not?" Thrárin frowned.
"Boy is right." Dwalin raised his brow.
Thorin's face settled in anger. "That's it. When we are done here meet me at the barracks."
Dwalin gritted his teeth. "With pleasure, for you need a good whooping… I swear to Mahal this time you have gone too far. You have truly pissed me off with this obstinate attitude of yours…Look at this place! It is the most dilapidated building in the whole of Erebor and in the lowest level. The poor fellow will be inhaling harmful fumes coming from the mine-shafts from dusk till dawn."
"You haven't been able to give me a whooping ever since we were children!" Thorin came up to his face threateningly.
"Never too late to start again, is there?!" Dwalin spat and placed his hands on his waist.
"You can always try, but the retaliation is going to be harsh! Be careful not to fail." Thorin hissed.
"I won't fail." Dwalin revealed his teeth.
Thorin's nose almost touched Dwalin's. "You've got some fucking nerve…"
Thrárin who didn't seem intimidated at all by this argument pulled Thorin's beard braid. "Daddy no swearing!"
"Listen to the boy…" Dwalin spat.
"You are really pissing me off." Thorin rebuked heavily.
"Good! Someone's got to do the dirty job …" Dwalin's eyes thinned and the hostility was rippling out of him in waves.
"And that'd be you?" Thorin spat.
"Don't you think I am enough?" Dwalin's nose flared.
"Not even close…" Thorin hissed malevolently.
A low adrenaline-filled roar began emanating from Dwalin's chest and Thorin felt all the muscles of his body tensing, when suddenly the door opened and the tension between the two friends got grounded hard.
Othin looked bewildered at the two huge Dwarves in front of him, who gazed back at him truly lost. Thrárin kicked his dad and jumped down. Then he threw his short arms around Othin's waist. "Hello master Urkar!" He yelped.
Othin drew his eyes away from the furious face of the King and knelt in front of the boy. "My young Prince." –He smiled and caressed his red curly hair- "What are you doing down here?"
Thrárin pointed back at Thorin. "Dad wanted to visit."
Othin patted Thrárin's cheek and stood up. "My King, it is an honor…." He bowed his head.
Dwalin crossed his arms not without giving Thorin's wide back several pointy looks just for good measure.
The King cleared his throat and looked at the door, which was hanging from its hinges. Then he observed the ceiling that had several support beams broken. "I wished to see if you have settled in." He said with an empty voice.
Othin bowed again. "I am most grateful for everything that you have done for me. I have settled in very well."
Thorin felt Dwalin preparing to say something and send him such an unfriendly look that his bodyguard froze in place with a look of disdain in his eyes.
Thorin felt his mouth drying and didn't know what it was the made him more uncomfortable. That his son was present to see the ruins Thorin offered Othin as a home? The conversation he had with his wife? The anger of Dwalin that was almost palpable or the faded sense of guilt which he didn't feel like he deserved?
He entered the rooms and the moment his heavy boot stepped on the termite-eaten floor-boards the ceiling released a cloud of debris that fell in the middle of the empty kitchen. Thorin looked at the cold fireplace that had several broken stone slabs. There was a small table with one leg shorter than the rest tilting dangerously to one side. A chair that didn't seem able to hold anyone's weight, maybe apart from Thrárin's. A small banker bed that was stripped of any blankets or sheets with a mattress that looked absolutely horrifying. Thorin thought he even saw urine spots on it. There was vermin dashing out from the holes on the walls. Othin's bow was resting upon the crooked table and his satchel was at the foot of the disgusting bed. Thorin's lips turned down when he saw the state of the kitchen which was abhorring. No one would be able to live here properly. Not unless they put in a real effort to fix the place themselves. That was Thorin's original plan for Eilin's father, yet now that he was here he was unable to feel satisfied with his own cruelty.
"Ew…your place is dirty." Thrárin scrounged his nose.
"I will fix it son, don't worry. I have slept in worse places than this. I am grateful the King has given me the opportunity to be in Erebor….no matter the state of my abode." Othin seemed honest enough.
Thorin crossed his arms behind his back, squared his shoulders and followed his son who went to investigate the bed. "My wife informed me that you had an extensive talk with her the other day."
Othin paled and avoided the King's stare. "Yes Sir."
"About the Battle of Azanulbizar…." Thorin continued indifferently.
Dead silence came from the older Dwarf.
Thorin lips twisted crossly. "What possessed you to speak with such details about those days?"
"The truth Sir." Othin didn't waver.
Thorin turned around and raised his brow.
"A part of the truth that was the least harmful under the circumstances." Othin added carefully.
Thorin's eyes pierced him for several intense moments. "Harmful for whom? Sometimes I wonder…" He drawled.
Othin gritted his teeth and counted inwards to calm himself down.
Thorin inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "You spoke with great detail about the battle. Was all that recalled from memory?"
Othin nodded quietly. "Yes."
"You spoke about your treason and about your failure to protect the King." Thorin's voice was harsh.
Dwalin tensed.
Othin nodded and felt his eyes burning. "Yes, Sir."
"Was that evoked from your heart or from your imagination?" Thorin continued emotionlessly.
"From my heart!" Othin's voice burst forth with a fervor that made Dwalin frown and Thrárin turn around surprised.
The only one who didn't react was the King who took several tense moments to speak again. "You fought in the front lines, close to my grandfather?" Thorin's voice had lost its assertiveness somehow.
Dwalin frowned at that.
Othin spoke with a hushed, defeated whisper. "A few feet away from him. I saw everything and….I was not strong enough to save him."
Thorin's forearm muscles flexed visibly. "I don't remember you."
A deadly silence fell in the room which no one wanted to break. Othin raised his head slowly and looked at the proud stature of the King through teary eyes.
It took seemingly endless moments for Thorin to turn around and pierce Othin with his fiery gaze. "I cannot remember you." He repeated with a frown.
Othin shook his head not knowing what to say.
Thorin walked over to him slowly. "I know who you are. Balin spoke about your life in Erebor and about your character. He told me you belonged to my guards, that you fled when we were in exile, but you returned for the battle. I know all that" –Thorin's brows creased- "Yet, I don't remember you at all during those moments."
Othin looked at his hand with a quiet nod. "I understand Sir."
"You told my wife that I remembered everything…and that is the reason for my animosity." The King looked at Thrárin fleetingly to make sure he wasn't disturbed by their conversation. The boy was checking Othin's satchel carelessly.
"It was the least hurtful reason to give to her Sir." Othin's tone was diminished.
Thorin straightened and pressed his lips. "I don't remember your face and I would have never been able to recall your name. Hadn't you fallen into my path because of my wife I would have been oblivious to your treason. I wouldn't have thrown you in prison for something I cannot remember."
Othin nodded. "I know Sir."
"So you lied…" Thorin's scowl deepened.
"I lied about you remembering me. I lied about you having negative feelings towards me for failing to protect the King " –Othin gave a guarded look at Thrárin and continued carefully- "But I didn't lie about everything else."
"What else is there left?" Thorin's brow clouded.
"I was honest about my feelings Sir. I was sincere when I told the Queen I felt awful for betraying your family and for failing to protect the King." Othin's voice broke and so did his countenance.
Thorin felt his chest suffocating and he took a deep breath in order to clear his head. "You saw King Thrór fall?"
Othin wiped the hot tears from his cheek. "I witnessed it all and I swear on my life, there hadn't been a single day I haven't lived to regret not dying in the stead of the King." He said and knelt in front of Thorin.
Thorin lingered in silence for several moments. "You would have died in vain then…."
Othin's breath hitched. "Never in vain…my death wouldn't have been in vain had I sacrificed it for my King."
"Azog would have destroyed you quickly before turning for my grandfather once more. You would have died in vain…" There was a bitter undertone in Thorin's voice.
Othin felt more tears springing from his eyes, but he remained silent.
"Had you done such a folly I would have ended up losing not only my grandfather, my brother and my brother-in law in that battle, but also my future father-in-law." Thorin rejoined emphatically.
Dwalin looked up sharply.
Othin felt his heart halting. "Sir?" He stumbled.
"I am using the term loosely…." Thorin pursed his lips with contempt.
Othin squeezed his eyes tight. "Y-es Sir."
Thorin nodded pensively and then looked around the room. "Did you get a notification to present yourself at the barracks tomorrow at dawn?"
Othin bowed. "Yes, Sir."
He walked towards the door and then looked above his shoulder. "Thrárin we are leaving."
"Yes daddy!" -The boy abandoned Othin's satchel and ran up to him- "See you tomorrow?" He asked happily.
"If your father and mother are okay with that, of course." Othin smiled kindly to the prince.
"Daddy!?" Thrárin looked at him with his wide expressive eyes.
Thorin turned around stonily. "We shall see, now come on." He said and raised his hand.
Thrárin's lips pouted and grasped his father's fingers tightly. He gave a sad regretful look at Othin who reciprocated with a wink.
Thorin paused at the crumbling entrance of the building for several moments. "Relocate master Urkar to the first floor residential area." He said coldly.
Dwalin's lips parted. "What?" He scowled.
Thorin gave him an empty stare that was enough to freeze anyone's blood. "You heard me."
Dwalin's face was full of confusion. "First level residential cavern is full I am afraid."
Thorin raised his brow. "Are there any abodes free in the High Cavern?"
Dwalin's smile was guarded. "There is one, next to Bjarki's home."
Thorin lingered for several moments. "Give him that."
Othin frowned at his hands. "I don't need another home my Lord. This is more than enough. I know how to fix it. You don't have to do this…."
Thorin sighed deeply. "The reasons you presented to the Queen about our troubled relationship" –he visibly stumbled at those words- "They are appreciated."
Othin's mouth formed a faded smile and more tears run down his cheeks. "It was my obligation to protect that secret Sir. What happened was and will remain between us." He muttered.
"And what happened at the gates of Moria, is history…long forgotten...as is your treason." Thorin added dryly.
"Th-ank you." Othin muttered. His voice was barely heard as his hand clutched the middle of his chest tightly in order to calm down the wild beating of his heart.
Thorin remained impassive by the door for what felt like an eternity before he spoke once more. "Know that all these lies overburden me."
Othin's face blanched and he reached out for the King. "I know Sir but please don't speak. Give me time…" He stumbled with a broken voice. His eyes revealed the terror he felt inside even at that prospect.
"This is a very tough request." Thorin returned.
Othin's eyes were eating him up. "Please…"
"I won't intervene." Thorin rejoined flatly.
"Thank you…." Othin murmured as he wept quietly.
Thorin walked out of the rooms, leaving behind him Eilin's father with a heart that was full of gratitude for the King's words and Dwalin who had a half-hidden smile under his thick beard and a twinkle of happiness glistening in his usually hard eyes.
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