"Again?" Oin rolled his eyes as he spied the youngest heir to Erebor's throne standing in the doorway to the healing halls. Although standing would have been an optimistic term, more like hunched over a bit. He sighed in resignation and gestured for the prince to come in.
Kili sheepishly tried to smile, though he was also having trouble keeping eye contact.
"Erebor will run out of outmeal soon if this keeps up." Nuluin commented dryly as he looked up from reading whatever it was that healers read.
Kili sighed and winced, his dark eyes pleading silently for help. He looked absolutely woebegone, and in pain.
Taking pity on the youth, Oin gruffly called Brunere in from the other room in order to draw up a hot bath while he got out the ingredients for the oatmeal and lavender mix that would help ease the intense itching. "You may have to stop seeing her for a while." He reached over, patting Kili awkwardly on the shoulder in commiseration.
Nuluin's mouth twitched with dry humor as he sat back in his chair. "It's worse than that. He hasn't seen her today. Tauriel is out with Dwalin and Bifur, patrolling."
The dwarven healer glanced at Kili's embarrassed and flushed face. "So. Just thinking about her is now causing this as well?" Oin made a slight face and shook his head at the youth.
The dark-haired prince winced and slipped carefully into a chair, trying not to cause his clothing to rub over him too much. He hissed to himself mostly and shrugged.
The two healers, elven and dwarven, shared a lengthy look. In the past two days they'd seen far too much of the young prince. Oin sighed heavily. They'd postulated that it might take twenty years for Kili's elven side to reconcile maturity with the dwarven side. While that had been funny only a couple of days ago, it was now simply sad.
Nuluin walked over to the elderly healer, putting down a piece of parchment. Whispering to the hard-of-hearing Oin was not an option. The dwarrow picked up the note, reading. "He won't last twenty years."
"Agreed." Oin crumpled up the parchment and tossed it in the bin with a thoughtful look. "We're going to have to do something."
The only question was, what?
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Erelinde slowly became aware that her fingers were off tempo. She frowned slightly, a crease forming between her brows as the muscles in her fingertips jumped at where they shouldn't. It wasn't until she stopped moving and sat there staring at the large runner of lacework that she realized the problem.
Music.
Someone was behind her, in the room, and they were playing a fiddle. Only the music tempo was all wrong for the piece she was working on. Erelinde's frown deepened as she listened. Fili, for who else would it be, was in a bad mood. She could tell this from the rushed notes and the pressure put upon the bow at the end of each measure.
Her initial frustration at being interrupted faded into worry as she continued to listen. Nothing was wrong with the sound, the music pouring forth was full of energy and flowed, but there was no joy. This wasn't like any of the other times Fili had come in and played for her. There was nothing sweet, nothing enticing, nothing beckoning.
He wasn't playing for her.
Erelinde glanced at the clock on the wall. She'd only been crafting for a short while. Maybe. The dwarrowdam rolled her neck, finding it stiff. Too stiff for only a few hours. Holding up her hands she sighed as she stretched them. "Is it still last night or is it tomorrow yet?"
The fiddler stopped in mid-measure, then drew his bow in a discordant note across the strings in an off-tune protest.
Erelinde turned her head and winced at the tight expression on Fili's face, the pinched look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I got an idea for a piece after speaking with my friends and I wanted to get it laid out. Did we have plans?"
Fili blinked at her, still not answering directly. He did reposition the fiddle beneath his chin and this time drew two jarring notes that clashed unhappily.
"I know I haven't been to bed yet, but I promise I'll get some rest as soon as I finish …"
A sharp, high note pierced the room as Fili's blue eyes looked pointedly at her.
Erelinde straightened her shoulders, her generous mouth thinning as she pressed her lips together as her own temper uncurled within her. "You knew I was a crafter when you introduced yourself." She pointed out the obvious.
"If I just sit here and keep playing music will you stop long enough to eat some breakfast or lunch or dinner and take a short break?" Fili drew his bow across the lowest register string, making it shake and tremor like a roll of thunder. "I offer any of those meals, as you've missed them all. Some of them more than once. It's been nearly two days."
The pretty blonde dwarrowdam looked at him sprawled out in his chair looking like a storm cloud about to burst. She crossed her arms, ignoring the stiffness in her back. "You're angry." She guessed, a bit disappointed in herself for getting lost in her work again. But also a bit disappointed that he didn't understand.
His arm moved swiftly back and forth and it was as if the fiddle sang to her in a syrupy mockery. How he could make music sound sarcastic she couldn't begin to guess. Her face flushed hotly as she sighed. "I'd leave you to your anger, but you're in my crafting room."
The next sound emanating from the instrument in his hands was nothing less than a sigh, a barely there note that rose and fell with subtle movements of his body.
Erelinde stared at him as Fili lifted the bow and set the fiddle in his lap as he looked away. She caught her breath. "Has something happened? I heard no alarms." Flushing again she wondered if she'd been so preoccupied that she'd missed some new desolation.
"You don't have to give up crafting. You don't have to choose to allow yourself to be courted. But this is why your father was so worried about you becoming a True Crafter."
The white-blonde blushed and blinked, though she refused to look away. Hearing the stark worry in his voice made her pique fade away. Still he had to know, this crafting …this was who she was. "Are you seeking an answer?" She asked pointedly, though her voice was gentle as ever.
Fili shot her an unreadable look, his blue eyes usually so warm and teasing now cold. "No. I won't seek an answer from you until living life is more important to you than a piece of lace."
Erelinde's chin firmed. She was not a dam known for having a temper. Her voice did not rise, nor did her words sound sarcastic and cutting. The dam spoke simply and plainly. "If you dismiss my work as lesser, you dismiss me."
The blond crown prince stared at her for a long moment, then rolled his neck in an agitated motion. "That's not what I meant."
The dwarrowdam watched the male with concern. He wasn't acting himself. "What's really wrong?" It was more than the fact that she'd lost herself in her crafting. She was guessing though.
Fili's bow lifted and he waved it in the air as if it were an extension of his hand, swinging back and forth as if he were unsure of any answer he could give.
Erelinde rose and groaned as she stretched. Two days? It was starting to feel like it. "I need a bath, and food."
"Sleep." Fili commented dryly.
Sky blue eyes watched the dwarrow for a long moment, and then she came and knelt down beside his seat, ignoring her sore muscles as they protested strongly. "What's wrong?"
Fili turned his head to meet her gaze, and his softened at the concern he saw there. He took a deep, cleansing breath and shook his head. "Small things adding up." He reached out and gently tugged on one small braid of hers that had slipped the pins holding back her hair. He twirled it around his finger and gave a gentle tug. "I'm fine." He promised.
Erelinde had her doubts, but could see he was starting to lose some of that awful tension that had made him seem so brittle. She smiled when he smiled at her, relieved that whatever ill mood had been driving him seemed to be ebbing away. "I ran away from what bothered me."
Fili's mouth twitched and he gave her a slow blink of his blue eyes. "Are you warning me not to do like you did? Or inviting me to join you? It's an intriguing thought."
Her hand reached up and caught his, freeing her hair. But somehow her fingers got tangled up in his and she ended up holding his hand between both of hers. Looking up, she captured his gaze, then looked back at their joined hands. She spread his fingers, putting her palm against his larger one. "You would not do as I did, hiding yourself away. Isolating yourself. It's just …don't shut all the negative inside where it can poison you slowly."
"For someone who loses herself in crafting, how did you get to be so wise?" He teased, his voice deliberately lighter.
"My mother used to say that." Erelinde frowned, but found she could now talk about her mam without the crushing sorrow that had been so prevent back then. "Your mother is on her way to Erebor, right?"
Fili stared at her a moment, the crinkled his nose, turning that subject away. "Do you want to reconsider those three kisses? I really want them back. Not sure I can go on living without them."
Laughing, Erelinde drew back, shaking her head. "Foolish prince." Only she could only move so far, as his fingers tightened upon hers. "Ow." She said, though quietly and not out of any great pain.
Instantly he let her hand go. "What?"
"Your fingernail caught me." Erelinde looked over her finger, but found nothing more than a small red scrape mark. "No harm."
Fili held up his hand, frowning. "I was chopping wood earlier, must have broken a nail somewhere along the way. Sorry." He gave her a doleful look. "It's what I do when I'm trying to work off a temper."
The white-blonde crafter gave him a teasing look. "Your family never went wanting for firewood, did they?"
He chuckled and grimaced as he pushed himself up to standing before offering her a careful hand up. "Sometimes, I'm not usually an angry sort. It's just, the quest and all that happened during and after, I can't seem to relax back into myself again."
Erelinde gave him a sympathetic look. "You may not be able to do that. You may have to find a new normal. Before you were a prince in name only, following a dwarrow with a plan and not much more. Now you are the crown prince of one of the great Dwarven kingdoms. You have responsibilities that you've never had to shoulder before."
Blue eyes stared at her and suddenly he gave a rough, tumbling kind of laugh as he sighed and shook his head at her. "You look so sweet and craft-blind. But you see things so clearly sometimes." He leaned in close to her, almost as if about to steal her breath. "Kissing?"
Laughing she blew on his lips and pushed him away, though she was smiling. He took that for encouragement.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"You've made splendid time!" Calbrinia remarked as she watched Dain Ironfoot escort the dwarrowdams into her father's sitting room. Her light brown eyes shone with welcoming warmth. She didn't balk at the dams he was being so polite to either, their braids showed them to be married matrons.
"I thank you for your gracious welcome." Dain bowed his head in a regal nod of respect and gratitude. "Your father is not home?"
"No." The battle-maiden acknowledged. "He is meeting with some of the town's leaders, but I have sent messages about your arrival. Indeed news of such an event may outstrip my messenger and my father could already be returning home in his haste to greet you."
Dain smiled widely and chuckled, remembering the fastidious looking Sigan and worried what the dwarrow would look like if actually hurrying toward anything.
"I have mulled wine warming, but there is ale and a rough meal that can be put before you if you are in need. The evening stew is not yet ready to serve." Calbrinia said apologetically.
"Having not expected this crowd for dinner, I would think not." The dark-haired dwarrowdam spoke up gently, her smile tired but encouraging. "Please do not trouble yourself for such as us."
Calbrinia bowed her head in thankfulness, though inwardly she disagreed. Serve the Ironfoot left-overs? No. The servants were already scrambling to put together a much finer feast than that. "It is no trouble, I assure you."
Dis watched as the lovely young dam moved off to get the ale and wine for her guests. "She seems competent."
Dain grinned, absently shaking some of the grime of the road off of his beard with distaste. "I agree." He paused a moment. "I had invited her to Erebor, to possibly meet a crown prince?"
Dis considered the question, liking what she'd seen of Calbrinia already. "Lovely child. I would hold no immediate objections. Her father's line?"
Dain shrugged, making a slight face. "Fussy, but with no stains upon the lineage that I am aware of."
The mother of the prince in question shrugged. "It's too early to say. But I do not object to her travelling to Erebor."
Hinnin, standing as he was over by the bookshelves, frowned. "I thought parents played no role in choosing a spouse in dwarrow society?"
Dain coughed, then laughed, waving off the comment even as Dis frowned sharply.
Ahriline, the wife of Gloin, couldn't help but look confused. What did the tall elf know of their dwarrow ways? Still, it wasn't in her to be rude. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not sure how to respond.
The Ironfoot had no such reservations. "Technically not. But that doesn't stop parents from offering suggestions."
Hearing the friendly way that Dain and the elf spoke wasn't new to Ahriline. She'd heard them around the fires at night as they spoke with each other. Still, she'd not yet brought herself to speak with the elf warrior. It didn't help that Dis couldn't seem to stand the male either. But then, Dis had history with the elves that still boggled Ahriline's mind. "Strong suggestions." She said in an almost-whisper.
Hinnin turned and gave the dwarrowdam a swift glance, though she was looking in the opposite direction. However, it was a tentative opening. "I did not catch that." He said quietly, lying.
Ahriline cleared her throat and then spoke a bit louder. "Strong suggestions. Parents can be quite vocal about whom their children wed, or don't."
"It doesn't change the outcome, not always anyway." Dain shrugged, missing the small byplay completely. "Anyone would be lucky if Calbrinia allowed them to court her."
Dis nodded, ignoring Ahriline's comments to the elf just as she usually ignored him. Only Hinnin seemed to catch a slight tone in the Ironfist's voice, one that the dwarrow himself might not be aware of.
"Yes. Anyone would be so lucky." Hinnin said smoothly, but his eyes were on Dain and no other.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
It was a rare moment. Thorin checked his mental daily diary and found he had, nothing. A meeting had been rescheduled, Dwalin was out on patrol. Balin was with the miners.
Kingship.
He'd often enough heard Men complain about how hard they worked and how easy their ruler or steward had things. If only they really knew or understood.
Smaug. The dragon had claimed to be King Under the Mountain, but he'd only taken over the mountain and used it to sleep within. He'd not ruled. He'd never worried about those beneath him, those that counted on him. The dragon had never cared for aught but the dragon himself.
Thorin sighed and looked out over the mounds of gold. He wasn't standing in the rich nest the dragon had gathered around him. No, every copper bit and golden piece had been catalogued and stored properly within the treasury.
Thorin had stayed away from that endeavor out of necessity. But …there was something he needed to test. Something he needed to know.
The King Under the Mountain hesitated. From fear. He who had rushed out of his stronghold in order to die gloriously, pitting his strength against an army of evil, was afraid. It wasn't then that terror had swamped his senses, it was now.
Slowly, achingly slowly, he placed one foot in front of the other until he stood within the newly restored treasury. His eyes had been closed. Licking his lips, he spread his arms and opened his eyes.
Gold.
Everywhere there was the gleam of something precious. Gold, mithril, silver, jewels, it mattered not. If it was costly and mined from the earth it resided here. And it was his.
Thorin's lungs started to protest and he drew in a sharp breath, feeling the sweat on his brow from desperation and not temperature. Breathing shallowly, he dropped his arms and turned in a circle. When he faced the door he'd entered from, he stopped. It wasn't empty.
Galadriel stared at him, and he at her.
It didn't matter that she didn't belong here. That no non-dwarf was allowed this deep into the very private vaults of the dwarrow. Somehow none of that mattered. Thorin blinked his eyes at her. "Well?"
Galadriel slid her eyes over the vast wealth of the dwarves, then returned her gaze to their king. She tilted her head gently to the side. "How do you feel?"
Terrified. Though he'd never admit that aloud. Anxious. Hm. That answer wasn't much better. "I'm fine." He snapped.
"Yes. You are."
That answer gave him pause. Was she guessing what was in his mind, or reading his thoughts? "My head is mine own to manage."
Galadriel tilted her head forward in acknowledgement, though her eye contact with him never broke. "Do you still feel yourself?"
Her gently spoken question made him realize that while he could hear the call of his gold, it wasn't pulling at him like it had before. "Will I stay myself?" He asked, suddenly desperate.
"None can say, for none face what you face. Each of us has our tests to pass." The Lady said quietly.
"Even you?" He challenged almost belligerently.
"Yes."
"You will pass." Thorin's voice sounded almost bitter as he cast his eyes around the gold that had once led him to turn his back on all that really mattered.
"I failed twice. A third time will come, if I do not pass then I will be lost."
The dwarven king spun to stare at her, but his tongue stilled within his mouth. From the look in her eyes, it was clear he'd have no further answers on that particular subject. Instead, he sniffed and gave her a wry smile. "And when you do pass?" When. Not if. It was all the support he was able to offer the elven leader.
Galadriel caught his implication and nodded in gratitude. "You have passed your test, what now will you do?"
Of course he noticed she hadn't actually answered the question, but he let it go. "I passed today, this moment. What of tomorrow? Next week? Next year?"
The Lady of Light smiled with genuine warmth and the king fought not to fidget beneath her gaze. He lifted his chin in mute challenge. Her smile grew. "Do not focus on passing this test next week or even next year. Not even today. Simply, you pass for now. This moment."
"And each moment builds on the next." Thorin sighed heavily. "You quote Durin."
"Or he quotes Cirdan, or perhaps the Shipwright quoted Durin, who can say?"
"You." He pointed out, obliquely referring to her great age.
Galadriel laughed with delight and shook her head. "Years I might have lived, many of them, but I was not in all places nor hearing all things spoken."
Thorin actually found himself smiling, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Was there a particular reason you penetrated so deeply within my mountain? Traipsing where you want, rather than were allowed?"
Galadriel's lips twitched in amusement for a moment, and he wasn't sure she was going to answer him. Though, after a moment or two of contemplation, she nodded. "Kuilaith needs you."
Thorin drew back in surprise. "And yet you would have taken him from us if Fili hadn't intervened."
"A mistake it would have been." Allowed the Lady of the Wood.
She said it so simply, as if the mistake wouldn't have been huge nor caused massive repercussions. Thorin sighed heavily. Elves. "Oin has spoken with me. There is little that can be done. Nuluin doesn't know what to do either, and he's the best healer you have. There is a potion that may help, or it could hurt the lad worse."
"The best healer is Lord Elrond. And the wisest we have left in Arda is perhaps Cirdan."
Thorin's sapphire gaze sharpened and his mouth tightened. "You ask to invite them here? Lord Elrond was already within these walls once."
"Kuilaith will find no barriers within my heart, and it will be good for them to be here to assist with any problems the lad might have." Galadriel looked sad for a moment. "But they come for another reason. I have called for a full meeting of the White Council."
Thorin smirked lightly. "You have already done this. Seeking my permission seems a little late in the game."
"Permission?" She paused as if playing with the word, finally she shook her head. "No. I seek to invite you."
"To the meeting?" Thorin sounded surprised.
"No." Galadriel smiled at him, looking deeply into his eyes. "To join the Council."
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"What does it feel like?"
Kili cracked open one eye and stared balefully at his older sibling. "Like the fires of Mt. Doom." He replied with false casualness.
Fili chuckled, sitting next to his brother as the young brunet soaked in the oatmeal bath. "Does it poke out?"
The dark-haired prince grimaced and shifted within the tub. He refused to answer, glowering. "Does yours?"
"Not yet." Fili shook his head. "If she'd ever kiss me it might help. But I'm in no hurry."
"Kissing is good, great actually." Kili grinned, then sighed and made a face of discomfort. "Don't talk about kissing, please." He begged, shifting his legs within the bath once again.
Fili laughed, though he did wince in sympathy. "Sorry."
"Fine. No hurry. Why not? Thought you were gone over the moon about Erelinde." Kili commented a bit darkly.
The blond prince shrugged. "Wake up too soon and I have to press for an answer. It's too soon. Right now she'd turn me down and I'd have to return to stone. So. It's not like with you, Tauriel has already accepted you, looks to marry you. Foolish elf-lass."
Kili splashed some of his bath water at his brother in a half-hearted gesture of protest. "So. We're at odds. I need to wake up soon or I'll die and you can't wake up too soon."
Fili grinned and then shook his head. "Oin pulled me aside, there's some potions that can help me keep my state of stone. I don't need it yet, but he's promised to help."
Stricken, Kili stared. "I asked him for whatever potion the Blacklocks tried to use on Uncle Thorin and he refused."
Fili ducked his head and shrugged. "The healers aren't sure it'll work on you."
"It'll wake me up!" Kili sat up in his bath, his eyes looking almost feverish. "I need it!"
"And if it wakes up the dwarrow side of you further, but your body still doesn't react properly? Will you be left in ten times more pain, or twenty times?"
Both princes looked up as Elrohir walked into the room carrying towels. He smiled sadly at the duo in greeting. "There are concerns."
Kili slumped back down into his bath. "It's getting cooler."
Elrohir put down the towels and walked over to the hearth fire, he used the padded gloves the dwarves used when working forge flames and brought over the steaming kettle of hot water.
Kili hissed with sharp pleasure as his elven uncle poured the hot water into the end of the bath near his feet.
"You're going to turn into a prune." Teased Fili.
Frowning, the dark-haired prince closed his eyes and settled deeper into his bath. Long fingers brushed his hair, caught back into a high tail to keep it out of the water, from around his face.
Fili watched the soft touch of the elf and felt a pang of sharp regret. Where had touches like that been when Kili had been smaller? When they'd been lads of almost twenty Kili had slid down a rough river bank that had been dry. He'd landed wrong and Fili had been forced to carry him on his back home to their cabin. The younger sibling had been miserable for the three days that he'd been forced to be immobile. In fact, their mam had tried to keep him with the foot elevated for a week. Three days was all anyone could manage to keep Kili still.
Could the elves have managed better, or would there just have been more people around for Kili to drive mad? What if. What if? Fili sighed and pushed those thoughts away as useless. The past was finished and all they were left with is trying to figure out where to go from here.
"Could the Lady help?" Kili whispered, his eyes still closed. Fili looked up at the elf.
Elrohir's lips moved slightly and then he gave an almost-smile. "I thought you forbade anyone from bringing up such a subject to her?"
Kili moaned and sank deeper into the water. It was a sign of how much the burning itch was bothering him that he'd even broached the subject of Galadriel in the same conversation about his privates. "She knows. She know everything. Don't deny it."
Elrohir's lips turned up in a true smile as he chuckled. "I would never wager on what my mother's mother knows or doesn't. She has said nothing to me or your father on the subject."
The door to the healing hall opened again and Bofur stuck in his head, looking around hopefully.
Fili pointed toward the next room and Bofur tilted his hat in the prince's direction. "All is well?"
"All is well." Bofur bobbed his head before retreating, though before he shut the door he stopped and leaned back inside. "King Thorin is having more guest quarters cleaned, scrubbed really. Any word on arrivals?"
Fili frowned. Dis. They were talking about his mam and the Ironfoot. Only the rooms for them were already prepared, had been for weeks really. No one knew when to expect them, but they were all ready. So who else could be coming? He shrugged.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Saruman politely placed a bookmark in the large tome he'd borrowed from the dwarven library. It was nothing new, really. A history of the elf leader Orodreth and his disastrous demise at the Battle of Tumhalad. Still it was interesting. All he'd ever read on the subject had come from the elves. This history was from the eyes of the dwarves. They weren't as kind to Orodreth and his missteps than the elves.
"My Lord Celeborn."
The silver haired leader from Lothlorien bowed in greeting to the wizard. "There comes a calling."
Saruman's left eyebrow rose in query.
"The White Council." Celeborn chose a seat opposite the wizard, joining him without invitation. "After the resurrection of Mordor, it would only be expected.
"Of course." Saruman's voice said, his voice smoother than satin. "Imladris or Lothlorien?"
"Here."
The wizard hesitated for only a second, then nodded. "The Lady does not wish to leave her newly discovered kin?"
Celeborn looked up and Saruman paused, had he managed to keep the mockery from his voice? "It is more than that."
"Oh?"
The elf lord nodded and picked through his words in order to make clear his point. "Erebor was the focus of much of Mordor's recent attention. This mountain, this kingdom, we were wrong to leave it in dragon hands for so long. If we'd known of Sauron's return, our decisions would have been far different."
Saruman fought the urge to snap at the elf. Celeborn was counted among the wise, yet he had proved just as easy to delude as the rest of the council. Except for him. Or course. "I hardly think Erebor is that strategically important."
"Mordor sees it as such." Celeborn said in a soft, almost monotone voice.
The White Wizard looked up, but the elven leader was plucking a stray string from the cuff of his sleeve. Not looking in his direction. "The more important issue is to locate the One Ring."
At that statement, Lord Celeborn did look up. His enigmatic eyes met those of the leader of the wizard, and it was the elf that nodded first. "Possible. Though a difficult task." He hesitated. "And if we search, our search could help narrow that of Mordor and its leader."
"A concern, certainly." Saruman dipped his head, acknowledging the warning. "Yet, the finding of the One Ring could be our only hope of withstanding Sauron. And as such. Is Erebor secure enough for such a meeting of the White Council?"
Celeborn's eyes showed nothing of his thoughts. Though it seemed as if the elf considered his words most carefully before speaking. "You think there is a source of information within this mountain leading toward our enemy?"
Saruman leaned back in his chair in a studied pose of calm consideration. "I think it highly probable. The kingdom is far from secure. And it is a mountain of dwarves. Such have sided with the Dark Lord in the past."
"A few. So have elves so succumbed." Celeborn shrugged. "Of us all, only the wizards have remained undarkened."
This last sentence made Saruman reconsider his response. He wondered, was he suspected? "All are susceptible to the dark and the lies of the Deceiver. Even wizards. I have not heard from several of my order in quite some time. Both of the Blues, and Radagast the Brown."
Celeborn took the small piece of string between two elegant fingers and rolled it into a small ball, flicking it accurately into the fire lighting the room. He looked pointedly at Saruman. "Neither of the Blue wizards are a part of the White Council."
"And Radagast is a fool. I do not see the point in trying to locate him and issue an invitation when all he speaks on his animals and the flora." Saruman said dismissively.
"Gandalf has sent word. He and Radagast are on their way."
This surprised Saruman, though he took great pains to hide that from his expression. He nodded. "Very well. I assume that Lord Elrond is on a return trip?"
"As we speak." Celeborn allowed with a regal nod of his head that put Saruman's teeth on edge. "The ravens that my wife sent to Cirdan found him sooner than expected. He had already begun a journey here to Erebor."
"He ever was wise." Saruman said feeling empty. Cirdan the Shipwright? Already coming? Had he missed anything? No. No. The elf was coming in response to Mordor's rising, that was all.
"You are here. Galadriel and Glorfindel as well." Celeborn continued. "It is only fitting that the meeting will be held here in Erebor."
Saruman nodded, having little choice in the matter.
After a moment of silence, the silver-haired elf continued. "The Lady has invited King Thorin."
The White Wizard did not appear surprised. "It is his kingdom."
"To join the White Council."
Stunned, Saruman stared at the elven leader. "That hardly seems the best idea. A dwarf?"
Celeborn nodded thoughtfully. "And was it not an alliance of Men, Elves and Dwarves that defeated Sauron in the first place?"
The wizard nearly swallowed his tongue as he shook his head. "So, she's offered a place on the Council to Gondor's Steward? Rohan's King? Or perhaps she has managed to locate the heir to the throne of Men?"
The elf ignored the wizard's rather sharp tongue, and did not rise to the bait about the missing heir of Isildur. Very few knew of the lad's presence in Rivendell. He'd questioned his own wife's decision to keep that information only to the elves …and Gandalf. Now, he wasn't so sure. With the return of Sauron, all things once held secure needed to be reexamined. He himself had no doubts about the leader of the wizard order, however, the fewer that knew of the heir's whereabouts, the better.
"Bard the Bowman." Saruman spat out the name as if in jest, then his gaze sharpened as Celeborn gave a curt nod of his head. "Why in the world would you invite a common soldier and jumpstart king over the established cities of Men?"
Celeborn shrugged. "Because he is new, he is unknown and doubtful has Mordor yet had a chance to sink their teeth into him. My Lady Wife has seen a shadow grow cold over Rohan, the meaning of her vision is unclear but worrisome. As for the Steward of Gondor." Here the elf twisted his mouth in clear disdain.
Saruman mentally howled, though outwardly he gave off no reaction. Ecthelion II wasn't exactly living in the pocket of Sauron, but there where those close to him that had been heavily influenced. King Bard of Dale, as he was now known, wasn't so encumbered, not yet. "You are …wise." The wizard did not argue the point, if he did it might seem suspicious.
"King Thranduil?"
Here Celeborn wavered. Saruman studied the elf's face carefully. "He has not been invited?" He probed.
"Yet." The silver-haired leader allowed with a dry look and a slight frown. "It is a matter not yet decided."
Saruman sat back, things were moving quickly, and he'd have to stay on top of matters. He steepled his fingers and listened to Celeborn speak, even as he started to formulate plans.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Kili opened the door to his room, looking up. "Elladan." A beat went by. "Father."
The tall elf bowed, closing his eyes with his hand over his heart. If he'd hoped the lad would greet him more familiarly, it was not something he'd really expected. "Kuilaith."
The dark-haired prince stepped aside as the elf who'd sired him entered. Elladan looked around and then calmly removed a pair of socks from one of the chairs so that he could sit.
Kili took the socks from him and tossed them negligently on the bed. "Those are clean."
Elladan doubted it, but didn't press the issue.
"Are you feeling any better?" Kili asked, pointing at his head to indicate the elf's recent injury.
"No more headache." The gray-eyed elf conceded gratefully. "You?"
"Scrapes mostly." Kili sounded awkwardly friendly, not forced, but not easy either. "I am sorry for what happened."
"It wasn't your fault." Elladan pointed out quickly. "Earth Movers. I was there."
Kili licked his lips and sighed, rolling his head to let go some of the tension. "I'm sorry that it happened, not that I'm taking the blame."
"Of course." Elladan sighed, feeling just as awkward as Kuilaith was sounding. He held up a deck of playing cards. "It seems you're fond of betting."
Kili eyed the deck warily. "What did you have in mind?"
"We play for points. Every tenth point you get a free question. Anything. No barriers, no hiding, only truth."
The dark-eyed prince bared his teeth in a friendly snarl. "Sneaky. You want me to learn more about you."
"And I want to learn more about you, but some questions are hard to ask or bring up in casual conversation." The elf pointed out.
Kili laughed outright, throwing back his head for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "What questions could possibly be so hard to ask? You brought up the subject of my virginity …in the hallways!"
Elladan had the grace to bow his head and offer apology. "It was extremely important." He'd had to know if his son had married someone and hadn't even known it.
"What's your first question?" Kili demanded.
"Did you call me da down in that crevice?" The elf asked. "Did your mam teach you to hate elves? Why did you pick up a bow? What do you see when you look at the stars?" He stared at his son for a long moment, then added one more question. "Could you learn to forgive me?"
Kili blinked rapidly, forced to look away from his father's gaze. He took a deep breath and then looked down at his feet. "Do you hate my mam? Why did she leave you? Did you ever love her? What do you really see when you look at me?" Now he paused, quite deliberately. He looked up and caught his father's gaze. "Why are you against my marrying Tauriel?"
Elladan held up the cards and handed them to his son. "Deal."