The cold season was nigh, and easterly winds brought sweeping chills and a billowing mist in the early and late hours. Yet, vestiges of summer persisted during the day, casting warm, even scorching rays that streaked through the clouded sky.

Dwarves bury themselves in monastic seclusion in the winter. Trade will cease, as will travel, but the mountain will scarce be idle. Indeed, dwarves do their best work during winter, where distractions are few, the days are short and there is nothing to lure them away from the comforting blaze of the forges. Deeper, deeper into the earth they mine, unearthing gems and forging links of quite a different kind as well, for winter is the season of discovery amongst dwarves craft. One would find oneself either in pursuit of greater skill and craftsmanship, or companionship.

In preparation for Durin's Day and the Crafter's Faire that preceded it, the King and Prince's council worked tirelessly, inventing and resolving disagreements as well as actually getting things done. Most of the work, however, would only really be forced to completion in the frenzied hours leading up to the great events.

Dis, daughter of Thrain, found herself busied with a council of her own, making hurried preparations for quite another endeavour. The noblewomen of Erebor were chattering as they encased themselves in leather, silver and all manner of protective finery, ordering their servants about and Dis always had a look of straightforward, elegant simplicity. Ghiza seemed as youthful in spite of her manu srrows, with her rosy completion, perfectly dwarven features and full beard a great cause of envy among the other dwarf ladies. Poor Malin nervously treaded the thin line of pleasing every member of her family, and as a result, appeared like a curious little figure. Daena, ever tall and imposing, fussed with her elaborate clothes and head dressings a great deal, owing to her misfortune of being a dwarf woman of unsurpassed intelligence, great wealth and far too much time to spare.

"I am surprised, I must say,' Dis sniffed, " Never expecting to make a journey, and at such a time."

"The roads have never been safer," Daena assured her.

"It is quite unlike my brother to encourage such a thing," Dis remarked.

She was soon to discover the reason why.


"You sent for me, my king?"

Kili peered about the spartan room. In the corner, scrolls were piled up in disarray, and, oddly enough, a very old The candles were being replaced by an obsequious, nearly invisible male servant.

"Kili."

His uncle walked in on the next room, and gestured towards the

"As you know, the ploughing operations did not proceed as well as planned. "

"Yes, sir. Only half of the land was tilled, I hear."

"And it is being sown. With some luck, next year should be an improvement. I now know better than to seek the advice of fishmongers and bargemen," growled Thorin, "Help has come from the Iron Hills, a little late in coming but it has come nonetheless. This is one of Ironfoot's ploughs. Bring it down to the forges and have twenty more made."

"I think, Thorin," Kili examined it, "Not that I in any way an expert, but perhaps the land about Erebor is of a different quality."

"And?"

"I think, that the ground here is heavy in rocks, whilst the Iron Hills must be rather strong on clay."

"Yes, Lady Daena has mentioned that."

"Perhaps we ought to experiment, adapt the plough to our needs before more are made."

"Fair enough."

"But of course I am not the dwarf to undertake such a project."

"Then what will your advice be?"

Kili hesitated,

"We dwarves have no instinct with regards to the soil."

"Nor to men, or elves..." Thorin stared at him quizzically.

"Halflings," Kili breathed out.

Thorin thought for a moment,

"I will write to Bilbo. I hear he hires help."

"Perhaps send him a bag of Erebor soil," Kili suggested, "They might know what its... properties... are?"

Thorin smiled,

"Excellent suggestion."

He moved to retrieve a scroll, one bearing an elven seal from amongst his papers.

"Kili," he took a breath before continuing, "I must ask you once and then I will not ask again. Is this what you want? A life with you and the elf?"

"Truly. Upon my honour."

Thorin shook his head in defeat,

"Then it is done, if you will do me one favour."

"What is it?"

It all came spilling out,

"Your brother," the king pointed to another letter, "Zurig, now a minor lord of the Red Mountains has written suggesting a match between his sister and your brother, Fili. He is quite... determined."

Kili stared at it.

"But..."

"Hear me out. I have reason to believe that your brother has already developed an attachment. To some lady of this mountain. Who it is... that is a mystery I cannot unravel."

"I gave your brother time. I pushed and urged, then ceased pushing and urging, all to no avail. If you are to be allowed to join yourself with an elf, I must have assurances. I beg of you, Kili. For the sake of my sanity. For the sake of your brother's happiness, reveal to me where his affections lie. I do not care for rank - as long she is a maid of childbearing age, I swear, I will let him marry a widow or even a seamstress."

"Really, uncle?" Kili smirked, "Even a seamstresss?"

"Aye," Thorin sighed in defeat, "Even a seamstress."

Kili took a moment to consider.

"Fear not," Kili said, "She is no seamstress."

"Who is she?"

"Why should I reveal this to you? To put matters in your hands? How will I know that Fili will be happier with our interference?"

"One chance of happiness I will allow," Thorin shook his head, "Or I will write to Lord Zurig. Your choice."

"Mother will never allow it!"

"There are many things your mother will not allow. Now, listen to me Kili. You have until the morrow to reveal to me if there is any maid that already has your brother's affections. On the morrow, you will accompany your mother to the Grey Mountains. There, you will acquaint yourself with dwarven women."

"Uncle, you must think I am no dwarf if it means I will change my mind."

"I think you are hardly a dwarf," snapped Thorin dismissively, "Now take the plough and leave."


"Kili? Whatever for! I already have Bofur, Bifur, aye, perhaps half the male folk of this mountain in my company!"

"He shall be of use to you. And to me."

"Fiddlesticks."

"I also hope that you will be able to acquaint him with as many specimens of the females of OUR kind... As you see fit."

"Ought I to take Fili instead?"

"No," Thorin said hastily, thinking of his scheme, "Fili will soon be wed, I am sure."

"To the arkenstone?" scoffed Dis, "I had heard of no 'dam who have him "

"Leave Fili to me," Thorin insisted, "I will have matters taken care of."

"Your words are of little comfort to me," Dis shook her head, "Instead I am alarmed."

"Trust me. I will do nothing in haste. Fili is needed here, that is all."

"Very well," agreed Dis, "Kili may come if he wishes."

"He certainly will."


"Do be careful," Daena instructed as Malin clambered clumsily on the grey pack-pony.

"This might be the first pony I actually like," Malin settled on the saddle comfortable, "She's very sweet."

Just then, the horse caught sight of Dwalin and reared.

"Woah!" Malin held on to the reigns, "Nadad!"

"Soon to be adad," Pearl chuckled, holding on to his arm.

"We'll be seeing you," Dwalin nodded approvingly at his sister.

"Send us a raven when you get there," Balin added.

"I will, fear not."

Dis began to move her pony down the great bridge. As head of the company, she had her skills of horsemanship on display, for all the mountain to judge. Ghiza followed closely behind her, having already bid farewell to her husband and her son.

Pearl gazed on disapprovingly as Ale and Bifur shared a horse, quite obviously a courting couple despite their lack of any formal tie or declaration.

"Keep them apart," Pearl whispered fiercely, "Or make sure he has committed himself."

"Bifur'll do well by her," Dwalin defended his companion, "We needn't interfere."

Pearl merely shook her head and hoped to Mahal that Malin wouldn't have to deal with a pregnant maidservant.

The small but complete family stood with the crowd of nobles and wayfarers, watching Dis and her company set off. It would scarcely be a quiet two weeks under the mountain.