We're nearly there lads. I'm glad you've enjoyed Fíli's coronation that much. Quite nice to see the Little Lion on the throne with a crown.
Now on to tying some lose ends, alright?
Thanks for your wonderful reviews and enjoy this Chapter!
"Come on now, try it on."
Bilbo blushed, his ears glowing bright red underneath the thick mob of curly hair. He stood on the middle of one of the large stone tables in the Halls of Thrór, only dressed in his pants and before him sat Fíli, Kíli, Glóin and Ori, looking up at him.
"I can't take that, it looks far too expensive", the Hobbit muttered, fidgeting a little and feeling more than uncomfortable, considering that every now and then a maiden or merchant would pass by the Hall and see him standing there half naked.
"It is expensive but it's a gift", Fíli smirked, waving a shining, white coat of mail before Bilbo's nose. It was not made of mere iron though, but forged from the finest Mithril and fitted to Hobbit size, adorned with diamonds glistening along the collar. Rarely a finer coat had been crafted. "I will take offense if you do not accept this gift, Bilbo Baggins!"
"Oh no! No no no, don't even try to play that trick on me! What should a Hobbit do with a shirt of Mithril in the first place?" the Halfling chuntered quietly, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.
"You should wear it in case you ever walk as far as Frogmorton again and get attacked by squirrels or bullfrogs on the way", Kíli mused and Ori pressed his sleeve-covered hand before his mouth to suppress a laugh.
"It really might be a little over the top", Glóin muttered, taking his position as royal treasurer most importantly as usual.
"Master Baggins, it is an order that you accept this gift from me and you will try it on now to see if it needs to be adjusted", Fíli declared with a stern glance, though quickly a cheeky smirk tugged at the corners of his lips again. "I might be mistaken but you do seem to have grown a little wider over the past weeks. Must have been all that Dwarven ale."
"Are you calling me fat?" the Hobbit puffed himself up before he eventually pulled the shirt of Mithril over his head. It was cold on his skin but fitted perfectly and glistened in the firelight of the hearth.
"See? Perfect", Fíli smiled and Kíli and Ori gave a random round of applause, while Glóin noted the loss, as he called it, into a small leather bound book. They looked up when a guard entered the Hall and cleared his throat.
"My Lord, there are visitors before the Gate."
"Before the Gate? Why don't you let them in?" Fíli raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I did. They said they were not allowed inside the City."
Fíli and Kíli exchanged a puzzled glance before they got up and marched across the Hall and the corridors towards the large Gates of Erebor. The snowfall had ceased a little and the entire Desolation of Smaug was shining white in the sunlight. When they stepped out, they wrapped their coats tightly around their bodies and marched across the bridge. To their surprise, they found the great Elvenking Thranduil out in the snow, the sparkling white crown glistening on his head and he was wrapped in a marvellous fur brimmed coat. With him stood ten other Elves, carrying beautiful chests and amongst them was Thranduil's son Legolas. The young Elf smiled a little when he spotted the two Dwarves and whilst Fíli stood surprised, Kíli quickly returned the smile.
"What is this about?" the young King under the Mountain asked and Thranduil eyed him for a moment, the usual displeased, stern expression on his beautiful face.
"We've come to pay homage to the new King of Erebor", Thranduil explained. "But since Thorin Oakenshield has banned me from entering his Kingdom, we shall do this on the porch it seems."
"It is most ungrudging of you to do this", Fíli admitted, a little astonished and he took a step to the side. "Though I won't let it happen before the Gates."
"Your uncle-", Thranduil began but was cut off by the young King.
"I am not my uncle. And though I do understand his mistrust in your kin, I wish that it wouldn't affect a prosperous relationship with the Woodland Realm anymore. Be it for my sake and the sake of your son, if you still felt as strongly as my uncle did."
Thus Thranduil and his Elves entered Erebor and when Legolas stepped into the great Halls for the first time in his life, he looked around in wonder and marvelled at the dark beauty of this massive fortress city, built deep into the mountain. They were led into the Hall of Thrór and offered wine and a seat by the fire and the Elves gladly accepted. Glóin and Bilbo had quickly gathered their belongings and stored them safely and the Hobbit had pulled his coat over the shirt of Mithril, never to be seen by the Elves. To Bilbo's delight however, Kíli, though wary of Thranduil himself since he still remembered his imprisonment, settled down next to Legolas and Fíli welcomed him most gratefully as well, for he had not forgotten that the young Elven prince had saved his life.
"I am sorry for your loss", Thranduil began and to his own surprise, Fíli believed him. "Though we may not have parted on good terms, I never wished for him to leave this life so soon."
"Nobody did, I believe. Thank you for your condolence", the young Dwarf bowed his head in gratefulness and peeked to the chests, that sat on the large stone table. "Might I inquire what those chests contain?"
"Nothing", the Elvenking simpered. "We have also come to Erebor, hoping that I might reason with you concerning the treasure once more."
Legolas shifted on his seat a little, clearly uncomfortable with his father's boldness.
"So you brought a few empty chests to carry the treasure back to the Mirkwood?"
Glóin and Kíli immediately puffed themselves up and Bilbo expected a turmoil similar to the one that Thorin had caused many, many weeks ago when Thranduil had first requested a part of the treasure. Fíli however remained quiet and unaffected and the sudden silence was deafening.
"Fíli, you're not going to-", Glóin began but Fíli raised his hand, gesturing him to be quiet.
"Well", the young King looked straight into Thranduil's face, confidence and Durin's pride gleaming in his eyes. "Like I said, I am not my uncle. And the Elves of Greenwood shall be welcome in the Halls of Erebor and offered shelter and food whenever they require it. I wish for prosperous trade between our Kingdoms and I hope that you wish the same, Elvenking."
"I do", Thranduil nodded.
Kíli sighed and Glóin could not quite believe what he heard.
"However", Fíli continued and the confident expression on Thranduil's face faltered. "Just like my uncle, I do not believe that the Greenwood has suffered any losses under Smaug and I do believe you undeserving of any part of my great grandfather's treasure. I will not take any offense from your blunt request but I will ask you, not to address this effrontery again unless you have just lied to me and you do not strive for a peaceful future between our realms. I believe I made myself clear."
Relief gushed over Kíli and Glóin and whilst Thranduil felt most offended, ready to turn down a polite offer to stay for a feast in the evening, it was the young Elven prince who agreed in his father's name. The Dwarves of Erebor prepared a marvellous meal and in the evening, they sat side by side with the Elves, chatting and laughing and even Thranduil dropped his cold approach towards the Dwarves for the night and drank with the young King under the Mountain and his companions. They left Erebor with empty chests but full stomachs and the prospect of trade and a bright, prosperous future.
A few days later, an early breakfast was disturbed by Dáin who had just returned from the Iron Hills to leave the reign in the hands of his young son Thorin for a while and he brought news of a most peculiar sight, for smoke was rising above the ruins of Dale. Believing the burned down city to be abandoned, the fear of Orcs settling down in the ruins quickly overcame the Dwarves and Fíli left Erebor together with Kíli, Dáin and Dwalin to find the source of the curious smoke.
The Dwarves trudged through the high snow, across the fields on which the Battle of the Five Armies had taken place, snow dancing in the air around them. They merely whispered to one another for they feared that an enemy might hear their coming and when they entered the ruined city, they stayed closely together. Thus surprised they were, when they did not encounter a horde of Orcs but merely one single Man standing by a large fire at the centre of what once had been the market square of Dale.
The run down clothes and the unshaved face and dark hair quickly gave the Man away and they sighed relieved when they recognised Bard, alone and unusually miserable. The Heir of Girion stared at the flames licking at the falling snow, sorrow and concern on his rough features and when he heard the Dwarves approach, he flinched a little.
"I'm sorry", Fíli smiled. "We didn't mean to scare you. We saw the smoke rising and worried about another Orc attack."
"I think we've driven them away just fine", Bard replied, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "I've heard the news. Congratulations your majesty."
He bowed his head before Fíli and the youngster quickly waved it off, causing Dáin and Dwalin to chuckle a little.
"So what does that make you then?" Bard asked, looking curiously at Kíli. "A very noble sparrow I believe?"
"I am not a-" the youngster puffed himself up again but quickly found it to be no use, unless he wanted to give Bard another reason to make fun of him. He sulked instead and warmed his cold hands on the fire.
"When will you reclaim what is yours then?" Fíli asked, a little concerned for he had grown fond of the Man and wished for him to be happy again.
"In spring, when the snow and cold have vanished", Bard smiled not so crooked anymore. The hope to restore Dale to its former glory, now that the dragon was gone, kept the guard going and yet he had grown even more impatient, praying for winter to be over soon. "The People of Esgaroth want to return to their home as well and they all agreed to help with rebuilding the City."
"That's good to hear", Fíli agreed. "I am sure a most marvellous friendship will arise between Dale and Erebor again."
"I shall hope so. Though rebuilding the City will surely take its time. Resources are scarce and the Master has disappeared with Esgaroth's treasure when the Orcs attacked. I would gladly hunt the coward down, would it not be in vain anyways."
"He will meet his fate soon enough", Fíli assured him, before he glanced at Dáin. The Lord of the Iron Hills smirked a little, Dwalin mirroring him and even Kíli, who still wasn't too fond of Bard, gave his brother an enthusiastic nod. The young King quietly smiled to himself and enjoyed the puzzled look on Bard's face.
"What is this?" the Man inquired, looking from one Dwarf to the next. "Allying against me I believe?"
"Not in the slightest", Dáin chuckled and Kíli showed a broad grin.
"When spring comes and the snow has melted away-", Fíli began, smiling honestly at the Man before him. "The Men of Esgaroth shall be joined by Erebor's best builders, carpenters and craftsmen to help rebuild the City of Dale."
Bard could not quite believe what he heard and simply stared at the Dwarf.
"The Dwarves of Erebor also recognise your claim to the treasure, for Dale suffered under Smaug just as badly as we did and therefor, you shall be granted your share."
Tears dwelled up in Bard's eyes yet he did not shed them. Instead, he stood speechless and overwhelmed for he saw his biggest wish coming true. Ever since he was a child, he had dreamt of rebuilding Dale and returning to his home, leaving Lake-Town and all the sorrow it carried for the Men of Dale behind for good. And he waited patiently for many years until the thought of giving up on this dream already crossed his mind more often than not, for it seemed useless and unhopeful. That a small Dwarf of all things should bring hope to his heavy heart again, surprised him, yet it filled him with joy and gratitude.
"Now, now, look at that", Kíli smirked and Bard quickly wiped his eyes with the dirty sleeves of his coat. "Go on, keep on bawling. That'll give me something precious to blackmail you with, should you ever call me sparrow again!"
Before Bard could even attempt to defend himself, Kíli was suddenly snatched away by Dwalin, who grasped the youngster in a tight headlock and began to drag him back to Erebor.
"Shut yer cakehole or I will start on the countless times I've seen you crying like a baby and one of'em has been quite recent if I remember correctly."
"Careful old friend, you might break our little sparrow", Dáin chuckled, following his comrade and the struggling Kíli. "Why sparrow anyway?"
"No idea, I like it though", Dwalin admitted, ignoring the cursing and winding youngster. "Probably because he's so birdbrained most of the time."
"Ah, I see."
"It seems like I've inadvertently delivered some nice entertainment for your kin", Bard smirked and Fíli shook his head at the sight.
"Seems like you did", the young Dwarf looked up at the Man. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Many things. Opening my eyes to the danger, saving my brother's sorry bottom, returning the Arkenstone-"
"Oh that. I had nearly forgotten all about that", Bard waved it off and was thus surprised by the serious expression on Fíli's face.
"Most of all for being a friend."
"And a friend I will always be", the Bowman smiled.
And Bard kept his word until his dying day many, many prosperous years later.
Fíli followed Dáin, Dwalin and his kicking brother back to Erebor and the Dwarves spent the winter in the safe, warm Halls, feasting and drinking and Bilbo enjoyed the rough and noisy company and the many little, precious gifts he received whenever he wandered around the merchants quarters. He stayed with Bofur for a while, then he stayed with Ori, he never dared to stay with Dwalin and most of the time he was found in the company of Fíli and Kíli and their friendship grew closer and closer with each passing day. Another desire, however, grew as well within the small Hobbit heart. The desire to see the green hills of the Shire again and more often, the youngsters found the Hobbit deep in thought and silently suffering from homesickness. And a plan began to swell in their heads.
