Woo only 4 months since the last update. I'm improving ;)


The maidservant had not yet even come to their rooms the next morning, when the group of dwarves awoke to the sound of parchment being slipped beneath the door to their chambers. It was Rorik who stood and swiped it from the floor, his undershirt flapping against his breeches. The others all looked on in varying degrees of wakefulness as his eyes quickly scanned the page

He cleared his throat "It is hereby decreed by the six Lords of the free peoples, that due to feudal problems at the Gap, all those who are not of age, or sound mind and body must leave the halls of Khazud-dum and travel into the West. Those that would wish to assist the army please present yourself to the Great Hall at the twelfth hour. May Manwë, Béma and Mahal bless you all."

The dwarves were silent, the deep even breaths of a still sleeping Pallando the only sound to fill the room.

"So it has begun then." It was Geir that said it. Sighed it really from his corner of the room.

Rorik grunted, absentmindedly running the parchment through his hands as he stared at it unseeingly, his mind seemingly far away, "It began long ago, now is merely the time the pieces begin to slot into place."

Rín chewed at the inside of her cheeks in thought. There was a pit of dread that bubbled within her at the thought of how close behind danger followed them. Rín sighed. There was nothing she wanted more than to be free from it. To find a place free of danger, and death and tyranny. She dreamed of a small house set in stone and safe. Somewhere she could finally start building a life that did not revolve around running or living forever in fear, or glum acceptance.

But perhaps such a place and such a life was not possible. It could not exist. The way the world worked prevented the idyllic from happening and instead gave its people a harsh, changing reality, tempered with moments of happiness that they must adapt to in order to survive.

Rín buried her face in her pillow and reviewed the choices she had to make. A strong part of her, the part that still stood within the depths of Mordor, watching Orcs overrun her people, watching the death and carnage wrought about her, wanted nothing more than to leave the halls of Khazad-dûm and head into the West. To finally find the peace she had never had, and needed.

Another part knew that wherever she went, the stigma of her father's people would follow, especially if the war that loomed, finally came to a head. Away from those that knew her, she would be an outcast. And what of those she stood to leave? Pallando, Geir, Rorik, Ivarr: for all their faults and failings there were the only real family she had left.

Rín sighed. And then there was Thorin. She knew what his decision would be even before she asked him. For all he was King under the Mountain no more, his duty to his kin was still just as strong, and Durin, while he did not know it, would hold Thorin's loyalty with the strength of blood.

Slowly, Rín sat up, pushing her hair from her face and meeting the dark blue eyes of the once-King. Thorin smiled at her softly, the lines of his face sad. Rín took a deep breath and returned it, giving a single nod. "We," she said quietly, inclining her head towards Thorin, "will stay and help the army if we can. It is time we stopped running."

Ivarr nodded, "I will stay also."

"And I." added Geir.

Rín smiled a little at that. They all turned to Rorik, still immersed in the parchment before him. He looked up, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. "If you think I'm leaving when the last sixty years have been planned and organised to lead me to this point, then you have spent too long daydreaming." he said dryly.


Rín could hear the people whispering about her as she and the rest of their little company moved their way into the Great Hall of Khazud-Dûm. Her neck prickled at the feel of a thousand eyes glaring at her skin.

"What is she doing here…"

"…I have not seen their kind West of the Mountains for a hundred years."

"I heard the young King was quite taken with her…saved her and all her company from the noose even though our own lay dead all around them."

"…Mahal strike her down…"

"Scum…"

"Ironfist."

"Good people of Khazud-Dûm, thank you for coming here today." The voice was loud and booming, and a dwarf with a long brown beard and small crest atop his head stood atop a platform. He raised his hands and the people quietened. "My Lord Durin."

As he stepped aside, the young King stepped forward "My people, you have chosen to stay here and assist the army, rather than go to the West with your kinsmen. I applaud your bravery, and in return for your loyalty I feel that you deserve to know the truth." his gaze swept about the room, "It is not just feudal problems at the Gap that calls our forces, it is an army marches upon us. An army of men and dwarves from the East."

The room burst into furious discussion. Rín looked up to see Thorin watching Durin atop his platform with a clenched jaw and frowning brow.

"If this changes your mind about assisting the army, then I suggest you leave now with the rest of your kin." Durin continued, his eyes passing through the crowds before landing on Rín. "You may have heard that there are those that have come here across the mountains from the East. Do not judge them for their appearance, they are here to help us. They are not spies. Anyone found to be abusing any member of their company will be thrown in the cells. This is the first and last time I will say it."

A murmur rose from the crowds again, and Rín slipped her hand into Thorin's, she felt him give it a small squeeze.

Túrin stepped forward and spoke over the congregation before him. "Now is not the time to fight against one another, it is the time to fight with one another." he called, his voice loud and clear. "Scribes will be taking names about the room. We need not only soldiers in this fight, we need healers, smiths and cooks also, so please go and make your mark where you feel you would be most useful. Thank you." And with that, the man stepped back amongst the other leaders of the free peoples of Middle Earth.

"I know not what you think, but I feel for one that they left out 'intelligence', so if you'll excuse me I have contacts to see." Rorik grumbled before turning on his heel and disappearing into the dwarves and men that stood about them.

Rín worried her lower lip between her teeth, "I could hardly defend myself if I tried." she said wryly, green eyes looking up to meet dark grey, "I am a smith not a warrior."

The corner of Thorin's lips quirked up in a smile, and a flash of relief crossed his face. "I will also sign for the smiths."

"I think you will not."

The voice was young and the company spun on their heel to face Durin. The people close to them were watching in silent vested interest. "Pardon?" Thorin's voice was low and almost deadly, but Durin stared straight back at him unflinchingly, his eyes at almost equal height.

"You fight with all the skill of a hardened warrior, there is no way that such skill can be wasted in the forges." Durin said calmly, looking between the two of them. "Hlífhrím is right. She has not the skill to suit a soldier, but you, you do. Although we do need healers, smiths and cooks, we need soldiers more; and I think you would be one to train those that we have so far. Your skills are needed, Thorin."

Thorin scowled, obviously unhappy at the intrusion but just as he opened his mouth, Rín cut him off. "He's right Thorin, I have never seen anyone fight with such skill as you." she said, her words quickly turning quiet. "Think of all the lives you would save if you could train the soldiers to fight half as well as you do. The more who live to see this through, the better."

Thorin's dark brows were still constricted in a frown and Rín could see the worry and conflict behind his grey eyes. Slowly he gave a single nod and looked over to the young King, "You are right. Show me where I must sign."


Durin looked through all the sheets of parchment before him, rubbing his ink-stained hands tiredly across his face. He had to look through all those that had signed their lives to the coming war before passing the lists on. Thankfully he was nearly done. Hlífhrím had indeed signed with the smiths, and he hoped she would do well there. He had seen a silent resolve behind her dark green eyes, to weather the storm that would no doubt come to her, for all his words of tolerance to his people. The old one-eyed dwarf, Geir he thought his name was, had signed with her. The other, quiet dwarf who still limped heavily from a not-yet healed injury had signed with the Healers. Ironically. And he himself had watched Thorin sign with the soldiers.

Durin sighed and glanced down at the piece of parchment he had set aside with the tall dark-haired dwarf's sign on it. He had established that the dwarf must be of his own kin, his face was so similar to that of his own fathers and ancestors, but how? During himself was supposed to be the last of that line, the reincarnation of the first of it. It was true, that sometimes visions came to him of things that he supposed had passed long before, and he was blessed by Mahal with an uncanny intuition and foresight, so the fact Thorin, who had even admitted that they were perhaps kin, stayed in his mind, and every time he looked at the dwarf's signature, he was flooded with recognition.

"Hallmud!" he called and heavy steps could be heard as his friend pushed open the door that separated their workplaces. "I am almost done with these, you may look at them soon, but first, could you call for the record keeper to bring me something?"

The man nodded, "Of course. What is it that you want?"

"The records from the Third Age, 2937. And quickly."


Well April was indeed the month from hell - I've been writing this chapter for the last 6-8 weeks.

Things are finally happening huzzah!

Béma is the Rohirric name for the Hunter Valar Oromë, who I'm pretty sure is kind of their 'god'. Manwë is the boss-man Valar and 'god' for all our ex-Gondorian peeps and I'm sure all you dwarf-fan ladies and gents have read enough Hobbit fanfics/Tolkien to know who Mahal is by now ;)

Thank you so much to all of you who continue to read, review, favourite or follow and check for updates. Your unwavering support means more than I can express in mere words.

Thank you especially to those who reviewed the last chapter, especially ladymoonscar, C. M. Gate, whatcatydidnext, The EarthSong, Counting Sinful Stars, Luinwen-2013, LadyDunla, biddle29, Nimrodel626, UK Reader, SilverZelenia, thegirlwhowaited411, Hel Opalcare, L. C. Doyle and kaia.