AN: Forty-five years left to go until the Reclamation of Moria and I have lots of exciting things to cover before that. I may just have to start speeding things up a little if this fic is ever to reach Moria. You're welcome to read a spoiler for this fic in the last chapter of Malin Fundinul, the prequel to Mothers of Durin.

Chapter 37

Bifur carved

"Another pretty little doll," Bofur jested over his shoulder, "My, my, are we not productive today?"

Bifur said nothing. He did not reply Bofur most of the time, not being a dwarf given to many words.

"What are you thinking about so deeply," Bofur pressed.

Bifur tilted his head aside, and swivelling around on his quaint, toy-maker's bench he search Bofur's bright face.

Under the intense scrutiny, Bofur's countenance dimmed slightly.

"I'm holding up at well as I can. Can't say I'm not happy to have not... run into... well."

Bifur frowned.

"Lots on your mind too," he grumbled and returned to his carving. The pretty young dwarf-maid that had caught his eye... well, he thought about her alot. But not for himself, not yet. She needed some kind of help, something to get her out of the state she was in. She needed to be set free in some way and he hadn't helped her figure it out yet. From the little Bifur had heard of Ale's upbringing, it tormented his soul to think of such a little child being put through neglect and mistreatment. There were scars, sores, bruises and wounds in her soul.

Bifur, by contrast, had had a perfect childhood. Raised by whimsical and music-loving toymakers, in a pine-smelling workshop where there was always painting, carving and merry-making, he could not imagine how anything would want to harm a young child. While his family had not been rich, they had been so terribly happy. Bifur remembered little of his more recent life, many memories having been wiped away by the head injury, but he still retained fond memories from the earliest years of his idyllic, joyful childhood. Still, it frustrated him more and more when Bifur kept losing these memories, one by one. It seemed as if his ailment grew worse each day, instead of getting better.

Kili gulped as the bile rose of his throat. Why did it have to be herring season now? The docks of the rebuilt Laketown were swarming with these terrible creatures. He had taken Thorin Stonehelm to see Dale, and then they had taken a day's journey to Esgaroth.

Kili tried to be polite, however. Thorin was genuinely interested, fascinated almost, by the herrings. He loved herring, and they ate them often in the Iron Hills. Kili could not stand the smell, salty and spoiled smells mingling in the docks.

Sigrid cracked open another barrel deftly and she dug her fingers into the slimy remains of fish.

"They make oil from cod livers," she explained to the two dwarves, "Pack it in with sea water, leave it for a year. It comes through Laketown and we pack and process it. Cod is good for eating, but even more "

Thorin Stonehelm lifted himself up so that his nose reached the edge of the barrel. Sigrid helpfully kicked a small box near for him to clamber upon and examine the barrel's contents. In the meantime, Kili decided this was the opportune time for him to rush over to the side and wretch.

Neither Thorin nor Sigrid heard Kili, or at least they pretended not to.

"The Lady of Laketown," Thorin complimented Sigrid, "A queen in her own right."

Sigrid protested,

"Tis not so," she shrank back, "I only know the ways of the docks and can manage them. I am not... like the Master or anything like that."

"Nevertheless," Thorin shook his head, "I see it in you, milady. Strength, honour, and the power to command."

Sigrid blushed, dropping the barrel lip on Thorin's fingers.

"Oh my lord!" she hastily lifted it, and was surprised to see the round, chunky fingers little affected.

"Dwarves are made of stone, they say," Thorin smiled reassuringly, "We are not children, despite our heights."

"I...I think we should retire," Sigrid glanced over at Kili, "For a roast dinner. I suspect that the midday chowder does not suit the prince."

"It was perfection," Thorin proclaimed sincerely, "Without a doubt."

"Shall I send this barrel down as well?" Sigrid pointed to a smaller cask of purified cod oil, "With the shipment to Dale?"

"Aye," Thorin nodded, "My aunt eagerly awaited her cod liver oil and pickled herring. Her love of such delicacies is unrivaled in the Iron Hills."

Thorin lit his pipe and gazed thoughtfully out of the high gabled window of their stately guest room.

"I don't know is worse," Kili groaned, pulling the covers over him , "The stench of this miserable village or watching you flirt with Sigrid."

Thorin did a double take.

"I do not!"

"Yes you do, cousin, " Kili rolled his eyes, pushing away the blankets as the humidity was to much for him.

"Even if I do, it is with good cause," Thorin mused, his thick brows drawing close together as he thought

"You haven't known Sigrid long! I knew her... from years back. When it first came back here. She was a bargeman's daughter, and look at her now."

"I do not think his majesty of Dale would favour a dwarf," Thorin sighed despondently, puffing out a heart-shaped smoke ring.

"Even so, I think that more opposition will come from our kin."

Thorin gave Kili a queer look,

"Why? I have met many dwarves who have mixed blood. As long as they swear by Durin's Axe, a man or even a halfling may join a dwarven kingdom..."

"And be a dwarf..." Kili completed his sentence, remembering something vaguely from one of Balin's lectures. Kili sat up, his heart beating with excitement.

Perhaps, perhaps there was a chance.

Thorin shrugged. This was a common part of dwarven law, though it mostly applied to the children of men who wished to ally themselves to dwarves. They could, by swearing loyalty and adopting dwarven ways, be accepted and treated as any dwarf, if they so wished. Few wished it, and those who did were welcomed by Durin's Folk.

"Why do you think the number of births have grown?" Thorin gave Kili a piercing look, "The children of men... birth more womenfolk than do we dwarves. Mahal does not forbid it."

"But surely we cannot be joined with orcs... or other enemy creatures."

Thorin considered for a moment,

"No."

"Such as elves?"

"Do you know," Thorin puffed thoughtfully, intrigued, "That I have never considered that?"

Kili rolled over and faced his cousin,

"If... say... an elf.."

"I don't see why not. Why, does it matter to you?"

"No it doesn't," Kili interrupted suddenly, turning away and pulling the blankets over his head sullenly.

Thorin stared at his temperamental cousin and shrugged, again, to himself. He was honest to himself; after being rejected by prime dwarf beauties, his taste in women had soured, that is, until now. The commanding, tall, capable Lady of Laketown intrigued him. He found her attractive, winsome, and not lacking in spirit. She would make a fine wife, he mused to himself in silent admiration.

Thorin continued smoking his pipe and stayed up for another hour, deep in his own thoughts.

Malin sank down into the soft, luxurious new couch in pleasure, putting her sore feet up and tossing the boots away. Ale scurried to pick them up, and Malin felt a pang of regret for treating her clothes so carelessly.

Nevertheless, Dwalin was pouring himself a glass of water, having continued well in abstinence from strong drink until now.

"How are your feet?" he peered down at Malin, who hastily adjusted her skirts and righted herself.

"My muscles ache," Malin complained dramatically, pulling a feather pillow over face and thrusting her feet toward her brother, "Dis and I journeyed from one end of Erebor to the other, visiting smiths. I told her to hold court and have them attend to her, which she has agreed to do. Daena is drawing up plans and I have had to write pages and pages of expenditures and costs for everything from steel to plaster."

Dwalin's rough fingers grazed the faint outlines of her former foot injury with concern.

"It does not bother you?" he said with a slightly apologetic expression.

"I am a dwarf, not a fairy," Malin shrugged, "Boulders dropped from waist length can do little to immobilize me."

"You fail to remember... the screaming and bleeding and cracked bones," Dwalin chided her in a paternal matter.

"'Course I do."

"I still regret it," Dwalin's shoulders drooped a little.

"Do not fret over me," Malin kicked Dwalin a little, affectionately and teasingly, "I need no one to fuss over me. Unlike Pearl. She has had a rough day, what with the swollen feet. She has... taken up the needle again and it has done little good for her nerves. Dori visited this morning, with a selection of pelts of the baby "

"I wonder at the cost..." Dwalin began, thinking about the warm, wolf-den nursery Pearl was in the midst of constructing, owing to her mother-warg instincts at the present.

"Dori says it is to be a gift."

Dwalin shook his head,

"My child. I pay."

"It's his nephew..." Malin reminded him.

Dwalin sighed.

"The child of his cousin's wife. Not of his cousin."

"Dori is your cousin too, on mother's side."

Dwalin pushed Malin teasingly, and then said seriously,

"I... wish you would have someone to fuss over you as well, namadith."

Malin shook her head slightly and Dwalin did not pursue the question.

"Even so," Dwalin added sincerely, "I do care for you. And so does Balin, though perhaps more than I usually do."

"An honest statement if there ever was one. Do not fret for me. I am perfectly, truly, completely happiness. Your happiness makes me complete."

Dwalin grinned, a lopsided grin that warmed Malin's heart.

"About last night," he coughed.

"I heard nothing," Malin covered her ears playfully.

Dwalin blushed. He... thought he ought to do more to be protecting his sister's innocence. He had old-fashioned ideas about such things, and in his mind, no matter how old he was, Malin was still the seven-year-old dwarfling that he never really protected enough as a child.

"We didn't mean to crack the brass mirror," Dwalin stumbled over his words, blushing and feeling like he was making matters worse, "Just some sparring and sword play..."

"Shut up!" Malin threw the pillow at him and retreated to her room, "I don't want to know. Leave me out of this."