Six months plus since an update? Better leave this here then. Enjoy (and please excuse any mistakes I was too excited to get this out to you :3 )


The sun disappeared below the horizon, casting its final light across the sky and covering the landscape in burnished amber. Rorik stood watching from his place atop the balcony as the world slowly fell under shadow. A cold wind stirred the tangled dirty locks of his hair as the sun disappeared into the far-off sea.

The clouds drew to the skies overhead, mirroring the darkness in his soul and he could almost feel the storm that gathered. Rorks fingers reached almost of their own accord for his missing beard. Softly, eyes too bright, he began to sing.

"Lo,

There do I see my Father,

and Lo,

there do I see my Mother,

and Lo,

There do I see my Brothers and my Sisters

and Lo,

There do I see my people back to the beginning,

and Lo

they do call to me,

and bid me take my place among them in the halls of Mahal,

Where the brave will live forever."

Rorik could feel Geir watching him from his place amongst the shadows, unwilling to speak. He sighed, "What is it?"

He saw the grizzled one-eyed dwarf shake his head, out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing. It is only strange to know that war comes on all these people, it looms on their very doorstep, and yet the sun rises and sets as it always does, and they are still none the wiser."

Rorik grunted in reply. "They shall know the taste of it soon enough. Let them live in ignorance a little longer." With that he turned from the balcony and made to return into the mountain, but a firm hand grasped his arm.

"I have not said it before, Rorik, but I am sorry for your loss." Geir said, his face sombre. "I do not know your pain, nor could I fathom to imagine it; but I am sorry that she is with us no longer."

Rorik stilled and was silent. Part of him was incensed that he had left himself open to be pitied by another. He did not need their pity, any of them. And yet, a far smaller, yet stronger part was grateful for the old dwarf's solicitude. In the end, Rorik merely nodded and together, they re-entered the stone walls of Khazud-Dum.


The heavy tome thudded to the table, sending dust misting into the air and over its numerous companions. Rín waved the particles away from her face, coughing as they went up her nose. Thorin looked up from where he was reading opposite her and she gave him a watery smile. The corner of his mouth ticked up in reply before his eyes hastily returned to the book before him.

They had been in the Hall of Records for - well, Rín didn't know how long. The Hall stretched hundreds of lengths, disappearing into dark before you could see its end and more floors lay beneath their feet. The Keeper had fumbled to comply with their every whim when he saw the parchment they carried with the seal of the King and so there they sat looking through endless records of monetary transactions, births and deaths from the Third Age. So far they had only found that of Dori, Bombur and Bifur. There was no record of Bofur anywhere, and the only record of Nori that they could find was that several years after the battle of the five armies, he had been convicted of stealing a coinpurse (he had however been freed on bail by his brother Dori).

Rín could see the stress that lined Thorins face and shoulders, his agitation at not being able to find the records of the last of his company. It was only a few minutes later that he finally snapped. With a growl, Thorin slammed his fist on the book in front of him, making dust fly in the air and the contents of his table, and Rín, jump.

Noticing the movement Thorin sighed, "I am sorry." he said apologetically, resting his hands on his forehead. "It is no use, they are lost to me for good. I shall find no more peace in these pages."

Rín's heart went out him, this dwarf she had chosen and quickly, she moved from her table to Thorin's. She placed her weathered hand on his and he took it in is own. "Thorin." Rín said. "You must find peace, whether you know or not. You cannot let it torment you for any longer."

He shook his head. "I cannot."

"You must."

Rín searched his grey eyes with her own green ones. Thinking quickly, her eyes dropped down to the open page in front of him. She smiled a little. "Oh would you look there - it says that Nori went to Gondor and worked as a trader." she said.

Thorin frowned, searching the page for the words she was saying "I do not see that anywhere."

"And the toymaker Bofur, you told me once he was a good friend to the Hobbit - Bilbo?"

"Yes." he looked so confused, running his fingers down the page, trying to find the place.

"Well he lived for some time in Erebor, and then towards his elder years he felt a strong inclination to head West once more. So he went to the place where all the little Hobbits lived and he made toys for all the little Hobbit children and was happy till the end of his days." Rín continued, and Thorin finally looked up at her in realisation. "That is because it is not there Thorin." Rín said quietly, her eyes soft and sad. "I am giving them the lives that we can dream they had, and the one they deserve. Believe that they lived long and happy, and let the guilt go my love. Let it go."

Tears began to slide down Rín's cheeks and Thorin stood from his chair, the look in his eye telling her he knew she was not just talking of those he had left behind all those years ago. Thorin cupped Rín's cheek in his hand, wiping away the wetness with his thumb. A deep, soul shuddering sigh escaped her chest and Rín leaned her face into his palm, closing her eyes for a moment.

"You are right," Thorin murmured. "It is time to make a future, not try and find the past any longer."


Durin watched the two dwarves leave the hall of records. One all red and sunlight, one dark and shadowed. They did not notice his presence, so caught up in one another and he went to the books they had left behind on the table. The keeper of the books saw him and made his way over, fussing over him for a moment before being sent on his way. Durin wanted to know what they had been looking at.

The table before him was laden with records from the Third Age. Something niggled at the corner of his mind that he just could not place. Births, deaths, marriages, taxes, the history of Kings...a history of Kings.

Suddenly it came to him.

Quickly he called for the Keeper and the wizened dwarf immediately rushed to do his bidding, bringing back with him a book that was thicker than the length of his outstretched hand.

"The Chronicle of Kings, my Lord." the Keeper said, placing the tome before him.

Durin smiled briefly at the old dwarf "Thank you. That will be all."

The niggling was still there, at the back of his mind. He knew what he thought he was looking for, but could not be sure. Durin carefully leafed through pages and pages and pages as the candles sank lower and lower. And then, he found it.

The lineage of his ancestors.

Durin's finger traced down the lines and faces on the page and slowly, his eyes widened in realisation and everything came back to him.


"So Vaidas, you have family?" Skoldjør ventured to the tall dark man beside him, also warming his hands away from the rain at their small fire where they sheltered underneath what had once been part of a building.

Meska glanced up at him. His dark eyes considered him for a moment before responding. "Yes, a wife and four children. Two boys, two girls. You?"

Skoldjør cursed himself internally for asking the question. "No. No family. All are dead."

"I am sorry for your loss." the Rhunion replied somberly. "I could think of no greater misfortune."

Skoldjør merely grunted in reply. He could not fathom a suitable response, for there was none.

As the days passed, hard slogging through mud and trod grass only grew harder and harder and the two Vaidas steadily grew closer. Their struggles formed a bond between them, that, were they to admit it to themselves, had begun to turn into something akin to friendship.

Thousands of years ago, the white ruins had stood tall and glinting; bright in the sunlight and the greatest city of Gondor. Once known as Minas Tirith, it was now known of Stenhvítr, conquered and laid waste by armies long dead. And this was where the armies they currently marched with settled for the night.

"How long until we reach the sea pass?" Skoldjør grumbled, rubbing his hands furiously in front of the fire.

The shadows stretched high and dark against the white rubble that surrounded them. Much had been worn down or fallen over the centuries, and more had been carted away to be used for newer buildings North and South of the rivers. What little was left however, still stood tall and impressive against the sky.

Meska shook his head, "A week at least, the way we travel now."

Skoldjør almost groaned, "A week more of this and the Westerners will not need to do battle with me for I will not make it there."

Meska laughed quietly in response.

Then they were silent for a while, listening the the rain outside their little covered enclave and fire grow louder until it drowned out the sound of even the crackle of the flames.

"What do you think, of this War?"

It was Meska who had spoken, and Skoldjør looked across at the Rhûnion Vaidas in shock at such a brazen question. Somehow however, his mouth seemed to work before his mind.

"I do not think it wise." Skoldjør replied cautiously. "But what I think now is no longer relevant in the face of the Sachem's decision Vaidas Meska, as you well know."

Meska snorted. "Indeed. But then again the Sachem's decision is not reflective of his kin's wishes so perhaps it too should be declared irrelevant."

Skoldjør could almost feel his mouth hanging open. the Rhûnion's words could easily be classed as treason, and the consequence - execution. He told him as much.

Meska's only response was to shrug tiredly, and suddenly in the firelight he looked one hundred years older. "I do not agree with war Vaidas Skoldjør. The rivers already run with the blood of our dead and the land is filled with the bones of those we conquer. I cannot see more war as a way to end any persons suffering. I see it only as an act of greed."

The younger man was quiet then. The light reflected off the gold of his hair as he considered Meska's words and the rain beat down harder still outside. They reminded him of his sister Sjöfn and he closed his eyes to try and block out the pain.

"You are right." Skoldjør finally said, forcing the air out between his teeth. "But there is nothing that we can do to stop it."

Meska's unwavering gaze met Skoldjør's own then, as the firelight reflected in them seemed to turn them red. "There is always something that can be done to stop it."


Hvítr - White (Old-Norse Icelandic)

Steinn - stone (viking)

So I butchered both words and mashed them together :D

So it's the 23rd of January and so much has happened in the last 6 months it's amazing. Five days ago I finished the last of my essays and completed my university exchange in Ireland, and in a week, I'll be heading back home to Australia (something I am looking forward to more than I can express). Between the time zone change, university work, learning to live thousands of kilometres away from family and friends, and learning to be a social university student (previously not my forte), writing has been a bit tricky, however I'm hoping to get it all sorted and get back into the swing of things this week before I return to Aus.

The idea for the Hall of Records and Chronicle of Kings came from two sources. The first is the idea that Dwarves were so precise in all their transactions and issues of fortune - if in reference to money - so then would it be in terms of dwarven lives. The second was the tapestry that Bard picks up in the film version of Desolation of Smaug - with the line of kings and a drawing of each of their faces - which, even though only simple lines, is remarkably similar (In Thorin/Richard Armitage's case anyway) to their actual appearance. It would make sense to me that at least one book would exist showing the lineage of Kings throughout the Ages as well as any tapestries etc.

Thank you so much to all of you who continue to read, review, favourite or follow and check for updates, your support means more than I can say. Thank you especially to those who reviewed the last chapter, especially Queen of Erebor, LadyDunla, Counting Sinful Stars, CeliaSingsSongs, UK Reader, L. C. Doyle, biddle29, REDRydingHood, insanity and co, Nimrodel626, Elise, Ririka, Hurricane Jackson, and Lady Sophia of Arda.

Elise: Thank you so much for both of your reviews! I try to always respond to people's reviews but as you don't have an account unfortunately I have to wait until the next chapter. I will not be abandoning this story don't you worry! I hate unfinished things. I'm glad you liked Moria - I do try and build images when I write so I'm glad it seems to be working. Hahaha Durin is very suspicious. Yes I am alive...barely ;P hahaha I shall endeavour to surprise you ;) You're very sweet, and I hope this new chapter shall whet your palette for a little while. Thanks again and your support is much appreciated x

Ririka: Wow thank you so much I'm so glad you liked it! I hope the day will come when you can read the last chapter too. Thanks again and enjoy! :)