Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves

by D3-ISeeFire

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of Erebor, and the dwarves who live there. Just stories, until the day a rider and his injured dragon are dragged through the front gates, and the stories suddenly become all too real.

14. Chapter 14

It was some time later, after Dis had gotten control of herself and after they'd convinced the dragons to return to their level, that she remembered the courting gift.

She hadn't mentioned it under the assumption Bilba was more than capable of dealing with such things on her own.

But now…

As she mulled it over, Dis lifted the dress off her bed and helped slide it over Bilba's arms, taking care to avoid snagging it on the sheath and dagger strapped to her thigh. She eyed it critically as it settled about the girl's body. She'd had the Bilba's measurements from her time in the Healing Ward. When it had come time to make the dress she'd given orders to make it a bit larger with more room in a few strategic places. Bilba's health had greatly improved in the month she'd been with them and she'd filled out to a healthy weight. She'd ended up following the bloodline of hobbits in that respect meaning she was now far curvier than she had been before. The loose fitting clothing she normally wore was accommodating to such things but the dress, designed to be snug in the bodice and waist before flaring out, would be far less so. She hadn't wanted to ask Bilba to come in for fittings, realizing it would just give her more time to reject the whole thing, so Dis had simply crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

Now, as she hooked the fastenings and studied the way the fabric lay she breathed a sigh of relief.

The dress fit perfectly.

One crisis averted. She handed over the pale blue satin slippers that went with the dress and returned to her original thought as Bilba put them on.

"Someone left a gift for you outside your door."

Bilba absently slid the shoes on and then lifted the straps of the dress, trying to put them on her shoulders and frowning as they fell down again. Who was it? Why?

Dis moved to stand in front of her and gently moved the straps so they hung low on her upper arms. "I don't know who it was but I imagine they left it as a courting gift."

She waited for a response but Bilba didn't seem to have even heard her, instead focused on glaring at the straps. Why are they there? They serve no purpose.

"They serve a purpose," Dis said. "They're pretty."

That earned her an annoyed look.

Pretty things are useless…mostly.

The last word was said grudgingly as though it were something she'd only just acknowledged. Dis raised an eyebrow, wondering what it was that had made her change her mind.

"Why were you watching the sunset earlier?"

Bilba frowned. It made me happy.

"See?" Dis said. "Pretty things make you happy. Useful."

The sun is useful for things other than being pretty.

"Yes," Dis agreed, "But you weren't watching it to feel warm. You were watching it to feel happy."

She lightly put a hand on Bilba's arm and guided her over to the vanity and bench in front of it. Judging by the amount of dust on it the girl had never used it. Dis settled Bilba down and started work on styling her hair. "Do you want your hair up or down?"

Down, Bilba said instantly. Can you make the brand not show?

"We can certainly try," Dis responded, pleased she was able to keep the sudden rock lodged in her throat from showing. "Did you hear what I said earlier? Someone left you a courting gift. Did you get many of those when you were in the Shire?"

No, Bilba answered. I wasn't there a lot. Primula helped me get set up with the Garrison. Then I joined the Rangers and helped protect the caravans. Syrath went with me.

Ah, that explained how she'd ended up with a connection to the Crown Prince of Gondor. Dis had wondered how that had come about.

Given Bilba's age she decided on a simple hairstyle and started sectioning out a few portions. As she did she asked, "Do you know anything about courting?"

Some. My mother told me a little and so did Primula.

Dis started braiding the first of six braids, three on each side of Bilba's head. She only braided them a short way before putting a clip on each and moving to the next. "Do you understand what it means, though? Courting? Why you might want to court one person instead of another?"

Bilba's eyes met hers in the mirror. Primula talked about her husband a lot.

Dis made a mental note to write Primula. It sounded like she'd tried to be a maternal influence to Bilba. She'd probably like to know how the girl was doing. "And did you understand it?" Dis asked gently. "Have you ever felt those sorts of feelings yourself?"

No, Bilba gave her a troubled look. Do I have to accept the courting gift?

"No," Dis said instantly. "You do not. Especially not one that wasn't even given to you in person." She began the process of working the six braids together in an intricate pattern. She split the pattern into six individual braids again and brought them under the main bulk of the girl's hair before bringing them around to the top again and combining them back into one.

As she did she considered how much Bilba might and might not know. The girl knew how to read and write, she knew how to speak and handle herself in most situations from what Dis could tell. She understood the concept of love and courting but Dis doubted she understood all the intricacies of it. The fact she didn't realize she could reject a gift was proof enough of that.

Worse was the fact she'd never apparently been in love, possibly had never even had an infatuation, didn't understand what it felt like to feel that way about a particular person. Yes she'd been told by others but practical knowledge of something didn't necessarily equate to understanding it.

It wasn't something she could explain in one sitting either, particularly when she didn't even know where to start. Bilba's mother, for instance, trapped inside the mines with no hope of rescue, most likely had not considered the need to explain how pregnancies happened or how to deal with a particularly aggressive suitor. Then, later, in the Shire it may have not even occurred to Primula that Bilba, given her age and clear experience in other areas, might not know such basic things.

In one respect, Bilba was very much an experienced, battle hardened warrior.

In just as many others, some Dis may not even have considered herself yet, she was very, very naïve and, as such, very much at risk of being taken advantage of.

Given what the girl had already been through, Dis would be damned if she let that happen.

She finished the braid and tied it off with a simple silver clasp. If the girl had had family in the mountain their crest would have been engraved on it. As it was Dis had ordered it engraved with a small image of a dragon. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a long, narrow case. Inside were strands of sapphires matching those on the gown. She pulled them out and began wrapping them around each of the individual braids nearest to the girl's head. Once done she would thread them through where the braids came together and then leave them hanging loose against the curtain of hair still falling down Bilba's back.

"Bilba," she said carefully as she worked. "I wondered if you might consider allowing me to deal with your courting requests for you?"

Bilba gave her a wide eyed look. You would do that?

"Absolutely," Dis answered. She finished wrapping the final braid in sapphires and began carefully working the strands through the larger, combined braid. "I would reject those that were not properly submitted. For the rest, you and I could sit down and talk about them and figure out what you wanted to do, if anything."

Doing it that way would give her a chance to find out what exactly the girl did and did not understand as well as the opportunity to help walk her through whatever feelings she may have toward a particular suitor. Speaking of which, she would also need to sit her oldest son down and have a talk with him. She had absolute faith that her son would never take advantage of Bilba but it would be a different story if the girl genuinely didn't know her own self. If he tried to court her and she felt she couldn't say no or perhaps thought she was in love with him and actually wasn't while he meanwhile assumed she understood…there were just so many ways it could go wrong, for the both of them. The best way to deal with it would be to simply place herself between Bilba and her potential suitors and walk the road with her until the girl found her own way.

She finished the braid stepped back. "All done."

Bilba stood and turned to face her. As she did, Dis stepped back to make sure she hadn't missed anything. With her hair down, in a shimmering dress that accentuated the natural curves of her body, the girl looked like an entirely different young woman.

An entirely different, stunning young woman.

I would like it if you would do that, Bilba said, completely oblivious and referring to the courting requests. I doubt I'll get many so it shouldn't be too much trouble.

She was going to get plenty of requests, Dis thought, for all the reasons she'd already listed off to Fili and as soon as anyone saw her in her dress. She took Bilba by the shoulders and walked her over to a large, full length mirror in the corner of the room.

Bilba sucked in a sharp breath. That's me?

"That's you," Dis said.

Bilba turned and spontaneously hugged her. Almost at once she pulled back, a look of uncertainty in her eyes but it lasted only an instant as Dis dragged her back in and hugged her properly.

When she pulled away Bilba offered her a shy smile that had Dis wanting to go personally slaughter every last orc on Middle Earth for the pain they'd put the girl through.

Is it okay if I go show Syrath?

"Absolutely," Dis said. "We have plenty of time. Just no flights or leaving the mountain to fight orcs, alright? At least not until after the Celebration."

Bilba agreed and then was gone in a swirl of satin and lace.

Behind her, Dis cleaned up and headed out herself. She had time before the Celebration to make brief visits to a few select people. They would be sure to start spreading the word, making it quite clear that, as far as she was concerned, Bilba was as much hers as Fili and Kili were.

And that anyone, anyone, attempting to harm or take advantage of her would pay.

Dearly.

Bilba hurried through the halls to the dragon level. Several people she passed stopped and greeted her or gave her startled looks.

Unused to anyone noticing her at all, Bilba put her head down and kept moving.

Why were they looking at her? It felt like something was crawling under her skin. Was it because they could see her scars? She'd felt alright in her room with Dis there but now her confidence was already flagging. She was so used to wearing more that she almost felt exposed in nothing more than a dress. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest until she reached the doorway through to the dragons. She could feel Syrath only feet away and it was only then that the tight knot in her chest eased.

She stepped through and slowed to a stop at the sight of the dwarf King standing in front of Syrath. He had a hand up, lightly resting on Syrath's nose.

As she hesitated, Syrath moved his head toward her, eyes zeroing in on her.

Bilba! You look so pretty! And sparkly!

The King turned at well, looking at her with a frown. "I apologize, my Lady," he said, his voice oddly formal. "I didn't realize you were standing there."

Bilba gave him a weak grin and moved forward. Immediately Syrath lowered his head and pressed against her. Bilba wrapped one arm up under his jaw and leaned against him, resting her own head against his.

The King looked confused, then his eyes widened. "Bilba," he said, "I didn't recognize you."

Bilba pressed closer against Syrath, the confidence she'd felt over wearing so pretty a dress waning further. Is that a bad thing, your Highness?

The King smiled at her. "Not at all, my Lady," he said, his voice gentle. "And, please, call me Thorin. You're my heir's ride partner. You have the right."

Bilba nodded, her eyes focused on the ground. As you wish…Thorin.

The name sounded odd and she half expected him to correct her but, instead, he looked pleased. He stepped forward again and put a hand back on Syrath, his smile broadening as the dragon rumbled and moved enough to nuzzle his palm.

"I enjoy visiting him," Thorin explained. "It reminds me Quenth isn't entirely gone. Some part of her still exists."

He sounded wistful.

Perhaps you'll bond with another dragon someday¸ Bilba offered. She knew it wouldn't be the same. She doubted she could form a relationship with another dragon if something happened to Syrath but she also couldn't imagine being shackled to the ground after having lived in the sky. A second dragon wouldn't be the same but at least it would ease some small part of the pain.

Thorin gave her a sidelong, resigned look. "Quenth was my second dragon. When Dis, Frerin and I were very small we bonded with dragons from the same clutch, Dis to one and Frerin and I to another. Soon after an illness swept through the nursery. Where it came from we never found out but we lost an entire generation of infant drakes, among them mine and Dis'." His voice lowered, barely audible. "We never even learned their names. They never grew old enough to tell us." He looked to Syrath. "When Lyth, and later Quenth, were born it was a second chance for all three of us." He lowered his hand, stepping away from Syrath. "There are some who say the bloodline of Durin is cursed. Dis, Frerin and I lost our first dragons, I lost my second. We lost another at Moria, along with my grandfather. I lost my grandmother, mother, father and Frerin." He suddenly looked far older than she knew him to be. "Throw in the assassination attempts over the past few years and even I have to admit the idea of being cursed doesn't seem so very farfetched."

You've all survived those attempts though, Bilba said. And the illness wasn't your fault, neither was Quenth and Frerin being captured. As for your father and grandfather…it was a battle. I was there, a lot of people died. She let go of Syrath and stepped forward until she stood in front of Thorin. I saw you there. I didn't think you had lived, so many orcs surrounded you. Yet you did and struck a blow against Azog at the same time. You can look at it one way and say that you're cursed but you can just as readily look at it and say your family is blessed to have come through so much and survived.

Thorin studied her. "Perhaps you are right, my Lady."

He held an arm up, crooked so his elbow was out. "I believe it's about time to head to the Ceremony. If you would allow me to escort you?"

Bilba nodded, a flood of relief washing through her. The last thing she wanted to do was walk through the corridors alone again and there was no way she could walk into the ballroom by herself.

Behind her, Syrath nudged her in the back.

Are you okay?

Bilba nodded at him, reaching out to hug his nose. I'm okay.

Let me know if I need to eat anyone, Syrath said, sounding far too happy at the idea.

Bilba laughed. I will.

She took Thorin's arm, breathed in slowly to try and calm her nerves, straightened her back and allowed him to lead her out.

Instead of going directly to the ballroom, Thorin led her to a small room behind it. The rest of the royal family was already there waiting for Thorin. Kili gave Bilba a confused look as the two of them entered.

Fili never hesitated.

He was up at once, crossing over to them. He nodded respectfully to his uncle and then reached to take Bilba's hands as she released Thorin's arm.

"Bilba, you look amazing."

Bilba gave him a weak smile. Thank you.

Almost automatically she wrapped her hand around his bicep and he bent his arm for her. She grabbed his forearm with her other hand, fingers digging into the vambrace he wore. He was dressed in light ceremonial armor, polished to a high sheen. His hair and braids were immaculate and he wore a sword she'd never seen before strapped to his waist.

He looked amazing too. She wanted to tell him but, for some reason, suddenly felt nervous. She didn't understand that. She hadn't felt nervous around Fili since she'd accepted he wasn't a rival for Syrath. Why did she feel that way now?

She focused on his sword, and the arm she was holding, and frowned. I'm holding your sword arm. What if you need to draw your sword?

I hope I don't have to draw my sword at my own Celebration, his voice sounded dryly in her head, if I do then Dwalin is fired.

Bilba gave him a hopeful look and Fili snorted. No, you can't attack me.

Then you shouldn't have brought it up, Bilba groused. It's not like you'd be in danger. You still beat me in training.

Fili just shook his head, amused.

Hand shaking and arm holding, Bilba muttered. There seem to be a lot of traditions that involve limiting your ability to reach your weapons.

Not something I'd thought about before I met you, Fili replied, but you have successfully gotten me to start looking at things with a far more paranoid eye.

There's nothing wrong with being paranoid, Bilba answered, especially when people are, in fact, out to get you.

Fair enough.

Thorin stepped away from speaking to Dis and Vili, nodded toward Fili and then headed up the stairs that would lead onto the front stage of the ballroom. The stairs were lined with soldiers and Bilba imagined the ballroom would be as well.

Her stomach was clenching in an impressive way and it was a struggle to not turn and run back to Syrath until the party was over.

She might not have made the depths of her dislike for crowds clear enough. Fili had wanted her to come, however, and she didn't want him to think she was rejecting him by saying no. The nobility of Erebor also wanted to meet her, for some reason, and Fili had offered to combine her official introduction with his Celebration rather than do a separate party for her.

There was no way she'd have shown up for a party where the only reason it was being thrown was her. She'd have gotten Syrath and gone to find orcs, or the goblins. She was still giving serious consideration to declaring a vendetta against them, more from annoyance at being caught by them than anything else, admittedly, but it didn't make it any less necessary.

Thorin had gone out, followed by Dis and Vili and then Kili behind them. That left just her and Fili. Well, and a ton of guards but they wouldn't be walking out into a full room of people staring at them.

Aragorn and Arwen would be there, she reminded herself. She wanted to see them. She really did.

"You ready?" Fili asked.

She was not ready by any means but Bilba nodded at him anyway. She raised her chin and fixed her eyes on a random point before her.

Then, with Fili beside her, she walked up the stairs and out into the ballroom.

She fought orcs on a daily basis after all. She'd survived the Arena. She'd survived a lifetime in Moria. She could handle a room full of nobles.

Right?

Bilba could have been carved from stone.

It was like some sort of bizarre transformation as they stepped from the door into the main room. Fili was distracted at first, his eyes taking in the crowd. The room was massive, able to fit hundreds if needed and it currently was with most of the nobility of Middle Earth standing in it.

The floor was white marble, the stone walls smoothed down and overlaid with elaborate tapestries, soaring columns and painted panels depicting important scenes from dwarven history. The ceiling overhead featured twisting, coiling drakes of every color, jewels set in their eyes and glittering from their talons giving the paintings a lifelike quality.

The stage they stepped out onto was created from the same material as the floor, rising up at one end of the room. The platform was large, keeping them back from the crowd. A long line of shallow steps led down into the room itself. Currently his uncle was at the front, turned back to watch Fili approach.

It was at about that time that he noticed the change in Bilba. She was stiff next to him, her head up and eyes focused over the heads of the crowd. To anyone looking she appeared the image of Orcrist, the warrior, fearless, survivor of a thousand battles, many of them now greatly exaggerated by the legend that had sprung up around her.

But the grip she had on his arm was bruising. He could feel it even through his armor. She was also holding onto him with both hands, her body pulled so close she was nearly hugging his arm more than holding it. It wasn't that he minded her so close, especially when she looked so stunning it left him breathless every time he so much as caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he could also see the light, almost imperceptible tremor running along her body, the way her breathing was just a few beats faster than normal.

Syrath, he called, I understand nerves but she's terrified. Why?

As he spoke he stepped up and gave a low bow as his uncle introduced him. Bilba was introduced next, his uncle giving her the title of "Bilba, Orc Cleaver; rider to Syrath, the Foe Hammer; partner to Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thror, Prince and Heir Apparent to Erebor."

His uncle always had enjoyed titles.

It would be the last time he would be called heir apparent. The Coming of Age Ceremony would also double as his coronation, officially declaring him as the Crown Prince of Erebor in truth and not just name or expectation.

She doesn't like crowds, Syrath answered and Fili resisted sighing in exasperation.

I know that but why? Did something specific happen?

As he spoke he turned and escorted Bilba down the long flight of stairs. His parents and brother were lined along one side and, technically, should have been lined up in order of rank with his mother first, then his brother and then his father. His mother, however, had moved so she was at the end instead of his father. Fili handed Bilba over to her and his mother immediately wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her close. Bilba, in turn, wrapped her own arm around Dis and stayed closed. Under other circumstances it might have been out of order but people were, or should be, aware of Bilba's age. They would make allowances.

They would make allowances or have his mother to deal with and Fili couldn't think of anyone foolish enough to challenge her.

He gave Bilba what he hoped was a look of reassurance and then returned to the center of the stairs, in front of his uncle. He knelt easily on one knee, one hand braced against the floor, the other arm resting lightly across his bent leg.

His uncle started the ceremony. He would make a speech about Fili reaching adulthood, his responsibilities, so on and so forth. Then the Coronation, then he'd be presented to the crowd and then the festivities could begin.

She can't tell who the orcs are.

The orcs? Fili asked. There are no orcs here.

There are people who act like orcs, Syrath explained. But she can't tell who they are. It was easier in Moria. She knew who the orcs were. There were bad slaves too but they were as worn down as anyone else and easy to avoid. Here she can't even be sure who they are much less avoid them. She really should just let me eat them.

Some of them have dragons of their own, Fili said dryly. They might take issue with you trying to eat their riders.

Syrath sent something that was probably his version of scoffing.

Fili's knee was starting to hurt from being pressed into the marble and his back was beginning to cramp from being bent. He absently sent the feelings to his uncle and felt amusement in return. Since Syrath had arrived his uncle had slowly began to open up his bond with them, rejoining the family in many respects. He still brooded, far more than was probably healthy, but he was there again in a way he hadn't been for years now.

There's also the bounty hunters, Syrath's voice suddenly piped in his head.

The WHAT?

Syrath's voice took on the tone of it's-very-sad-that-you-are-so-dumb-and-don't-realize-obvious-things-that-should-be-obvious-even-though-I-never-told-you-about-them that he'd heard from Bilba a few times, raising questions as to if one of them was getting it from the other or if they simply made each other worse.

The orcs have a bounty on her, and me too, but mostly her. It was pretty high last time we checked. It's probably higher now since we killed the Watcher and destroyed the Arena. Things like that tend to piss them off.

I would imagine it would, Fili said dryly.

It's high enough that there are always bounty hunters trying to collect, Syrath continued. They wait in the towns and cities. I can't go in with her. She has to go by herself and she can't tell who the bounty hunters are, not until they attack anyway.

Fili tensed, his eyes fixed on the marble stair he was kneeling over. How many times has she been attacked?

Too many.

Fili closed his eyes for a second, resisting the urge to swear rather colorfully. At least now he understood why she'd turned down his multiple invitations to visit Dale or Lake-town.

We would protect her.

Who would protect you? She doesn't like putting others at risk.

But she doesn't mind being at risk herself, Fili muttered.

It's a character flaw. I'm working on it.

Fili nearly snorted out loud and barely managed to cover it.

Still there are no bounty hunters here.

But it is a big crowd. It calls up bad memories.

Fili didn't have a lot of time to think about Syrath's words as Thorin ended his speech a few minutes later and the Coronation started. Fili felt his nerves reacting as a thick purple robe was settled over his shoulders. The circlet was brought next. Up to that point he'd worn a simple gold one, his brother's silver. The one being handed to his uncle now was mithril, the center dipped down to a sharp point over his forehead and bearing a large ruby edged with gold. If one drew near enough they would see the rest of the band bore the crest of Durin, engraved in gold.

Thorin stepped forward, raising it high as he solemnly intoned the ancient words that had once been spoken over him and several generations before him.

Then the band was being settled over his forehead, a cool band of ice quickly warmed by the heat of his skin.

"Rise, Fili," his uncle stated and he obeyed, turning smoothly to face the crowd, one hand on the hilt of his sword, earning him a hopeful look from Bilba.

I'm not drawing my sword.

The hopeful look turned into a glare.

"People of Erebor," Thorin said, clear pride coloring his voice, "Lords and Ladies of Middle Earth, I present to you Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thror, Crown Prince under the Mountain."

As one the members of the room who ranked beneath him sank to one knee, heads bowed in respect. Those who matched him in power nodded their heads while the few Kings and Queens who'd attended applauded.

Fili was used to some level of respect or recognition of his rank but never to this extent.

He took a deep breath, a level of nervousness he hadn't felt before suddenly sinking in. He'd tried preparing a speech, he really had. Each one had insisted on turning out worse than the one before.

He should have just asked Kili to do it.

"My Lords and Ladies of Middle Earth," he said, trying desperately to sound more like his uncle and less like himself, "I thank you for coming and celebrating with me on this day."

Mahal, he sounded like an idiot. His brain had literally locked down, not a single original thought was making its way in.

He looked at Bilba who was virtually attached to his mother's side.

He took another deep breath. "Some would say my family has lived a cursed life, others a blessed one. Wherever the truth lies, I know it doesn't begin to compare to the trials faced, and overcome, by my ride partner."

What are you doing?

Bilba sounded mildly outraged but she'd also released her death grip on his mother fractionally, her ire replacing some of her fear.

Saving us both, Fili responded and then continued.

"I don't know what the future holds," he said, "but I am firmly convinced that if I can face it, and whatever trials and obstacles it may hold, with even a fraction of the strength, grace and courage Bilba has demonstrated on a daily basis then I will consider it a success." The crowd applauded and Fili took the opportunity to address his, currently slightly murderous, partner.

I don't suppose you'll dance with me would you? If you don't I'm going to have to pick someone else and that could go poorly.

There was a large group of young women clustered at the base of the stairs. Most had probably spent weeks scheming to get as close as possible and he was slightly concerned how they would react if he was forced to go down to them and pick one to open the ball with.

I don't know how to dance, Bilba answered curtly. She was looking at him like she was considering putting him back on the "to be killed in their sleep" list.

We don't have to actually dance, Fili responded, we can go through one of our forms.

You want to spar in the middle of your celebration?

Just the foot placement. He stepped forward and held a hand out to her, simultaneously eliciting a groan of dismay from many of the women in the group at the foot of the stairs. It also resulted in a few glares being sent toward Bilba, who noticed and simply glared back until they looked away. "My Lady."

Bilba reached out and took his hand, her grip firm and not shaking as her irritation overrode her fear, for the moment at least."

Fili turned and led her down the stairs, the crowd parting before them to allow them access to the main dance floor.

Why did you say all that?

Because it was true. They reached the center and he slid an arm around her waist. Free arm around my neck if you would and I do repeat, neck, not throat.

That earned him a faint smile before she reached up and put her arm in the correct position. I have been to parties like this before you know, in Gondor.

Were they as fun?

I didn't have to dance.

Not as much fun then. Form 9?

She raised an eyebrow, fully aware it was the most complicated form, and also the one they'd spent the morning practicing.

She nodded fractionally and they started. Fili knew the form like the back of his hand and easily altered his own pattern, reversing and mirroring it so they appeared to be moving in a slow, graceful dance. The band hired for the evening, set up on their own dais near the stage, caught the cadence and soon began playing, showing their experience by somehow creating, on the spot, a melody that perfectly matched their steps.

Do I have to start calling you, Your Highness now?

Mahal, I hope not. You'll get Syrath involved and then it'll be "Your Highness" this and "Your Highness" that in a mocking tone.

Syrath may well start calling you it regardless.

I know. He's like the dragon version of Kili.

It was over far too soon. Fili found he quite liked the feel of her in his arms. He continually forgot how small she was, the presence she gave off larger than life. He had to remind himself Orcrist was the persona and there was an actual blood and bone girl underneath the façade of fearlessness and invulnerability.

As they turned the crowd, which had been gathered around them watching, applauded and he instantly had Bilba doing her statute impression again.

I can assure you there are no bounty hunters at my Celebration.

Bilba's eyes narrowed. Syrath talks too much.

You don't have to go into the cities or towns alone anymore, Fili said. Never again.

Bilba didn't look at him, her gaze roving through the crowd. And what will you do when they attack?

Probably kill them, Fili said cheerfully. We went over this, remember? We both have enemies, we're both a danger to those around us. We've both decided taking on the other's danger is acceptable and we're both more than capable of dealing with it.

The orchestra started playing again and people streamed onto the floor to dance.

Fili absently spun to face her, taking her hands in his and leading her off the floor. In fact it's far more likely I'll end up saving you. As you said, I still beat you in training, just did so this morning in fact.

A glint of challenge entered Bilba's eyes. You cheated.

Of course I cheated, Fili said matter of fact. Bounty hunters, orcs and assassins don't normally fight fairly or honorably, why should I? His eyes narrowed. You already know that though. You cheat constantly.

Of course I do, Bilba said. But that doesn't mean I can't still be annoyed when you do it.

She was smiling as she said it but her eyes were uncertain. With a start Fili realized she was trying to joke with him. He smiled broadly at her and moved to stand at her side again. Grabbing her hand lightly he settled it on his arm and nodded toward the room. "Let's go meet our fans shall we? We'll see if we can find Arwen and Aragorn too. They're sure to be around here somewhere"

Bilba nodded. Alright.

With that they turned to face the crowd.

Together.

There were so many people that Bilba soon lost track of who even a fraction of them were.

It wasn't just people from Erebor, though there were plenty of those. She met members of the Council and their families, Lords and Ladies of various houses all swearing they had bloodlines dating back to one of the original dwarven fathers. After that there was the stoic King of Mirkwood, Thranduil, and his far more approachable son, Legolas. There was the King of Rohan, a sour faced man named Thengel and his wife, Morwen along with their no less than seven children. She spotted Denethor, the young Steward of Gondor, standing near Arathorn and his wife Gilraen. She saw no sign of Aragorn and though she thought she caught a glimpse of Elrond she didn't see Arwen.

She had been told multiple times that her name was a virtual legend and as the night wore on she was quickly finding it to be true. Everyone who approached seemed to think they already knew her and most had stories, many exaggerated, of her various feats. They jostled to get near her, reaching hands out to touch her, something she did not enjoy in the least. She'd barely started getting used to the idea of Fili touching her, having strangers doing it, and so many all gathered in close where she could easily miss a knife or other threat, unnerved her. Fili began moving her, angling his own body to block her from others but there were far too many for him to be able to block them all.

And then, without warning, it suddenly stopped. One moment Fili was pulling her away from the fourth or fifth noble invading her personal space and the next minute, as though by magic, there was a wide berth about them. As Bilba looked out in surprise she noticed that there were more guards than before, many of them close, casually moving about through the crowd. They didn't say a word to anyone but their mere presence successfully reminded people of their manners.

Did you do that? She asked Fili.

I was about to, Fili replied, but Dwalin beat me to it.

He nodded off to his left and Bilba looked to see the dwarf in question a few yards away. He was standing near a white haired dwarf she hadn't seen before.

Who is that with him?

His brother, Balin. He's been on a diplomatic mission to Rohan and returned along with the delegation. Xalanth hasn't been happy with him gone but Rohan doesn't allow dragons within its borders, as much as anyone can keep a dragon out anyway. They claim they scare the horses.

More likely they eat the horses.

Probably.

Bilba studied the white haired dwarf. Her uncle. Her mother hadn't known him all that well. He'd been an ambassador then, clearly still was, and was often gone from the mountain when Belladonna visited. Dwalin glanced in her direction, an odd look in his eyes. A few minutes later he did it again and then again moments after that.

Why does he keep looking at me?

Fili frowned. I don't know. Want me to ask him?

NO. The last thing she wanted was for the Bastard to think she had even the slightest interest in him.

Fili stiffened suddenly and when he spoke his voice was cool. "Lord Kairn…and Garn."

A tall, solidly built dwarf was approaching them. He was dripping with signs of wealth to the point of being obscene and Bilba wasn't sure how he got his hair to appear to be one solid block like that or why he felt it was a look to desire. Beside him was one of the dwarves Bilba remembered from the group who'd taunted her during training. She'd seen them from time to time in the training room after that point, three of them sporting braces on their noses. One of them, Nain, had apologized to her almost immediately and subsequently had become quite friendly with her, often greeting her when she arrived and asking about her day. One of the others had also apologized but avoided her while the third one, and Garn, ignored her altogether. Garn, as she recalled, was the only one uninjured because he'd fallen to his knees like a coward and begged for mercy.

Both of them bowed low before Kairn addressed Bilba. "My Lady, I had been hoping to speak with you, in private if possible."

Bilba tightened her grip on Fili's arm. She didn't want to talk to them alone. She didn't even want to talk to them somewhere private with Fili there. She didn't want to go anywhere with them at all. They were nobles. Any time a noble in Gondor wanted to speak to her in private it was always a bad thing. Always telling her how her presence was a blight on Aragorn's reputation and character, how it would be best for him if she would just go away and not return. How no one actually wanted her in the first place, they were just being kind, just tolerating her and hoping she were intelligent enough to get the hint and leave.

"Bilba can't speak," Fili said, "and, not being riders, you can't talk to her through mind link. I also don't believe I recall either of you knowing Iglishmek so you won't be able to communicate with her without me and I can't very well leave my own Celebration."

Kairn frowned, "Perhaps at a later time-"

"I'm assuming," Fili cut in, his voice firm, "you wish to facilitate your son's apology. Seeing as his insult was given in public don't you think it'd be appropriate for the apology to be given in the same manner?"

Kairn opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He'd been neatly maneuvered into a corner and he knew it.

As he stumbled Bilba tightened her grip on Fili's arm even further.

I don't want to talk to them in private, now or ever.

You won't have to. I'll handle it.

Kairn gestured toward his son and the other dwarf came forward and made an awkward bow. "My Lady, I wanted to apologize for the insult I gave you in the training room."

Bilba nodded shortly.

Kairn nudged his son, clearly pressing him to do something. Garn looked annoyed but then said, "I was wondering if I might interest you in a tour of Dale in the near future? I know of some amazing places to eat and there are a number of booths that sell different…fabrics and…girl…things I guess.

Son of an orc, Fili's voice sounded in her head. I guess we know who the bastard is that left that courting gift outside your room like a coward. Should have figured it'd be him.

Bilba latched onto that. Dis said I don't have to deal with those.

This time it was Fili's turn to frown. She said what?

She said I could say no, Bilba said, and that I can let her take care of those things. That anyone who leaves me a gift can go to her and she'll take care of it for me. She looked at him, suddenly unsure. She meant it, right? I can say no?

Of course you can say no, Fili said. Especially to an ass who can't be bothered to give you a gift in person and who seems to have been put up to it by his father.

Why would he do that? Bilba studied the two dwarves. Both were standing quietly, aware she and Fili were conferring via link.

Status probably, Fili replied. I imagine he wasn't too pleased when he found out about Garn's behavior in the training room. He's hoping he can smooth it over now with an apology. He studied the two. I wonder if he even knows about his son's botched gift attempt? Kairn isn't nearly as inept as his son. I imagine he either doesn't know at all or he told Garn to do it properly.

Out loud, he said, "The Lady declines your offer. She also wishes to make it known that my mother, Princess Dis, has volunteered to be her sponsor and Bilba has accepted. Any future such requests, or gifts, should be made to her."

He made it sound much better than how she'd said it. He'd been doing that all night in fact, responding to the nobles in correct and polite speech and claiming it was her saying it no matter how tongue tied, or outright petrified she really was.

Garn blanched, actually blanched, his face draining completely of color.

I think I'm insulted, Bilba said, it appears he finds your mother more frightening than me.

You've never been on her bad side, Fili replied, don't let it bother you though. Garn's an idiot.

He looked past them and Bilba saw his eyes brighten. "Ah, if you'll excuse me. I see a few of Bilba's friends have arrived."

Bilba followed his gaze and found her spirits lifting immediately at the sight of Aragorn and Arwen walking into view. Lord Elrond was striding next to his daughter, talking to her in a low voice.

Kairn and Garn both turned and Bilba saw their eyes widen.

"She's friends with the Crown Prince of Gondor?"

"She is indeed," Fili murmured, "As well as the Lord of Rivendell and now the entire royal family of Erebor. Not to mention being a legend beloved by many and a rider." He gave Kairn a cool look. "You should think about retraining your son, Kairn. He insulted someone who could have been a powerful ally."

With that he straightened and then he was pulling Bilba away toward Aragorn and Arwen. They had noticed her as well and were making their way in her direction.

Bilba began to hurry, only to come up short as yet another dwarf was suddenly in their way. She vaguely recognized him as someone she'd seen wandering the upper halls from time to time but she'd never spoken to him. He was older, closer to Thorin's age, and she hadn't seen any family associated with him.

"Nar," Fili said. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it."

"Oh," the other dwarf replied. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He bowed low and then straightened and addressed Bilba. "And you must be the Lady Bilba. I have a daughter your age, Beryl. She's in Rivendell at the moment but I'm sure she'll be most interested to meet you when she returns, most interested indeed."

There was something…off about the dwarf, Bilba thought. She didn't know what it was, couldn't quite put her finger on it but it was…something. Perhaps the way his smile didn't quite seem to reach his eyes or the way he kept fidgeting and couldn't seem to stand still.

Nar's eyes drifted down to where her hand was curled around Fili's forearm. For a second he stared and then, suddenly, he made an odd, almost choking noise in the back of his throat. His eyes went wide and his entire body actually swayed, almost involuntarily moving forward before he jerked back.

"Nar?" Fili said, "Are you alright?"

Nar looked up and there was a flash of a strange light in his eyes. It was a light Bilba had seen before, in the eyes of the slaves who'd been finally pushed too far, until something inside them had withered or broken entirely. The look was gone instantly but Bilba felt herself still and instinctively slid one hand into her pocket and through the slit in the fabric until she could wrap her hand around the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh.

"I'm fine," Nar said. "I apologize, it's been a rather trying day." He nodded at Bilba's hand, an odd strained note to his voice. "That's a lovely ring you're wearing. A family heirloom perhaps?"

"Ring?" Fili said. "What ring?"

Ring? Bilba looked down and realized, with a start, she was wearing a ring, the slender gold band she'd found in the goblin caves nearly a month earlier.

I forgot I was wearing it, she said in surprise. I've had it on nearly a month now.

Have you? Fili asked in surprise. I don't recall seeing it before. Where did you get it?

Bilba relayed the story and Fili told it in turn to Nar.

The Councilman responding by looking like he'd just sucked on something exceptionally sour.

"Found it on a skeleton did you? Underneath Goblin Town? Just…stumbled across it, just like that. No searching, weren't even down there a minute and you just…found it."

He seemed…angry almost though for what reason Bilba couldn't begin to guess.

If he wants it he can have it, she told Fili. I don't particularly care.

Fili was studying Nar, a speculative look on his face. "Is there a reason you have an interest in a random ring Bilba found?"

"What?" Nar's face went blank, his eyes widening with surprise. "No, no of course not. I was just thinking, it is a beautiful ring. Some people have all the luck, yes? I go on walks you know, all the time, never found more than a pretty rock here or there. Your young lady falls into a lake and nearly lands on a ring. Funny how luck works."

"Considering how her life has gone in comparison to yours," Fili replied, "I would imagine luck had nothing to do with it and that a simple ring is paltry repayment for what she's been through."

"Yes," Nar said contritely, "Yes of course. My apologies. I wasn't thinking. If you'll excuse me."

And, with that, he was gone, hurrying away through the crowd and quickly becoming lost in the crush.

Aragorn and Arwen arrived an instant later, having hung back until Nar left, and Fili had little time to consider the other dwarf's odd behavior. He mentioned it to Dwalin via link and heard the Guard Captain respond but he sounded distracted, no doubt busy talking to his brother. Balin had been gone nearly six months after all, he had clearly been missed.

"Bilba!" Arwen dropped to her knees, uncaring of her gown, and threw her arms around Bilba. Aragorn soon joined them as did Elrond.

They pulled away and Fili was stunned to see a broad, genuine smile on Bilba's face as she surveyed them. Arwen was holding her hands and seemed unwilling to let go, her eyes studying Fili with clear suspicion in them.

"We were worried about you," Aragorn stated. "The last report we had was of Syrath being run down over Mirkwood. Of you there was no sign."

Bilba looked down, abashed and there was silence as she no doubt spoke with Aragorn via link.

"There's nothing to forgive," Aragorn said after a moment. "We were simply worried. I looked everywhere for any sign of you. I even sent riders to the Shire to see if anyone there had news. Primula was ready to ride out herself and start looking but I convinced her to stay and wait for us to send word. The dwarves at the Garrison all volunteered to go as well, particularly Bofur who claimed to my riders he wasn't about to allow any friend of his to go missing on his watch."

As he watched, Fili saw Bilba's eyes start to water. She twisted her hands together at her waist and focused on her feet.

"They were always your friends, dear one," Aragorn chided gently. "It was not they who left."

"Come," Arwen stepped forward and slid an arm around Bilba's shoulders. "Let's go sit down and you can tell me all about what's happened between then and now." She shot another less than friendly look at Fili and then she was gone, leading Bilba over to a set of couches near one of the walls. Elrond followed, standing protectively near both as they settled on one of them.

"My apologies, your Highness, for neglecting to acknowledge you," Aragorn said, turning to Fili. "I hope you can forgive my oversight and poor manners, as well as those of my wife."

"Of course," Fili said immediately. "I'm glad to know Bilba has others out there as concerned about her welfare as I've grown to be."

Aragorn nodded. "Arwen will come around. She just needs to hear from Bilba that you haven't been taking advantage of her in some way or forcing her to stay her against her will. Not that I imagine anyone could force Bilba, or Syrath, to do something against their will but Arwen is overprotective, as am I."

"I understand," Fili agree. "I would do the same if our positions were reversed."

"They'll be there awhile," Aragorn said, indicating his wife and Bilba who were both curled on the couch, their heads close together. "Care to join me for a drink? I would like to know how Bilba has been doing as well and I don't particularly feel like waiting for Arwen to relay the news."

"Absolutely," Fili looked around for a server and found one. He gestured in that direction and Aragorn fell into step alongside him. "I admit I'd be interested in hearing more from you about Bilba as well."

"I'll tell you what I can," Aragorn said, "though I'm afraid it will be less than you may think. She keeps a lot of what she's up to private, not wanting to worry us. You'd have more luck talking to my dragon oddly enough. He and Syrath are quite close. I barely arrived and he was off to find Syrath to catch up."

Fili checked and found that, indeed, Syrath was currently frolicking in the fields outside Erebor with the other dragon, Xalanth watching them both from the ledge overlooking the area.

He retrieved two drinks and together they took seats on the opposite side of the room from where Bilba and Arwen sat.

And there they talked.

It was several hours later that Aragorn tilted his head to the side and then said, "Arwen reports Bilba is about near her limit." He gave an approving nod at Fili. "It's a testament to how much she likes you that she stayed this long. She's not one for crowds."

"So I've heard," Fili replied. He stood and stretched, grimacing as his muscles protested moving after having been locked in place so long. Had he been talking to anyone other than the Crown Prince of Gondor he probably would have had a number of females of every Kingdom trying to drag him onto the dance floor. As it was his brother appeared to be filling the gap well enough, currently dancing with a dark haired elf maid and appearing to be having the time of his life. His younger brother, Fili was convinced, had a personal goal of dancing with every female at the party and was well on his way to achieving it.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, your Highness," he said to Aragorn. The man stood and easily grabbed the hand Fili offered, his grip firm.

"And I you, Prince Fili. You've done much to assure me in regards to Bilba's safety. I'll admit I was half worried I'd have to start an incident to get her away from you."

It was no idle jest. Through their conversation he'd learned Aragorn held a deep loyalty and affection for Bilba. He understood how alone she was, at least somewhat by choice, and had made it his mission to ensure she had at least one steadfast ally she could turn to. Her vanishing into Erebor, in his eyes, had been a sign he'd let her down right when she needed him. Had Fili proven to have had ulterior motives, Aragorn would have intervened, even if it meant potentially souring the relationship between the two kingdoms.

"Everyone deserves one person who will have their back no matter what," he'd said, "just one. I don't think it's too much to ask."

It wasn't and if Fili had his way Bilba would have far more than just one.

He took his leave of the other royal and began making his way across to the other side of the room. The crowd had thinned a bit, nobles taking their leave of his uncle and retiring to their rooms or starting their journey back home.

Spotting his mother talking to one of her friends, an older woman who'd been close to Fili's grandmother, he sent, I'm going to take Bilba out of here. Do you think I'll be missed?

Dis looked up, finding him quickly in the crowd. No, you've been here more than long enough and it's expected you would slip out at some point to create your bond with your dragon. That your ride partner would be there with you would also be expected. No one will be offended.

Good. The last thing he wanted to do was insult the wrong dignitary.

Fili, his mother's voice spoke again. Don't make any courting moves on her, not until I've had a chance to speak to you.

Fili frowned. I hadn't been planning to but why? Just a few hours ago you were practically demanding I do something.

That was before I'd had a chance to speak to her.

Fili stopped dead in his tracks. You're not saying you now object to a possible match are you?

Of course not, don't be ridiculous. After talking to her I'm completely convinced you couldn't do better than her. The girl is naïve in many areas, far more than I would have thought given her age but understandable given her background.

What background is that?

One I cannot relay in a few minutes across a crowded ballroom. I'm not asking you to wait forever, just one night. I need to talk to you about it, that's all.

Fili thought back to Bilba's insistence that Dis had said it was alright for her to reject an advance, followed immediately by her questioning him if it was, in fact, truly alright.

I take it that's why you offered to sponsor her?

Yes. As she is now, she can to easily be taken advantage of, accidentally or on purpose. The fact she was in Gondor's courts and still retains her innocence and naivety suggests someone there was aware of the problem and was protecting her.

Arwen, Fili said instantly. She was about ready to have my head when she first saw me.

I'll speak to her, Dis said. That way I can get a better understanding of what areas Bilba may need help in. I have no doubt she'll be able to handle herself once she learns a bit more but, until then, she is in dire need of someone standing alongside her.

You'll probably be hearing from Garn then. I'm fairly certain he's the one that left the gift outside her door.

Good to know, Dis stated, her voice flat. I'll be having a word with his mother, I think, on her son's appalling lack of manners. That the girl had no family to take offense is no justification for neglecting the basic social courtesies. The fact he dropped them the second he thought he could get away with it does not reflect well on his character.

No, Fili agreed, it does not.

He continued across the hall until he reached Arwen and Bilba. Bilba was curled up on the couch, her feet tucked under her. She was clearly worn out, her head resting on the arm of the couch, her eyes weary.

Arwen looked at him as he approached and Fili was heartened to see she appeared happier to see him than the last time.

"Your Highness," she stated, getting to her feet. "Bilba has been telling me about you."

She held a hand out and Fili grabbed it and bent over to kiss the back lightly. "Hopefully good things."

"Indeed," Arwen said, "and if you knew how hard it is to gain her favor you might realize what a high honor that is."

"I have a good idea, my Lady," Fili said. He sat down on the edge of the couch gently, the motion causing Bilba's eyes to fully open and focus on him. He held out a hand. "Are you ready to leave?"

Bilba hesitated, looking toward Arwen. She in turn smiled and said. "Don't worry. Aragorn and I plan to stay a few days. You'll see me in the morning, or I suppose later today as I'm fairly sure we may already be into the next day."

Bilba smiled at her and took Fili's hand, allowing him to stand and pull her up with him. Arwen gave him an amused look and turned to look at Bilba. She in turn stumbled, turning her head so fast to look at Arwen she nearly risked hurting herself. To Fili's astonishment her face went red and she shook her head sharply. Arwen only continued to look amused.

"I'll leave her to you then," she said to Fili, "with the understanding that if you do anything to harm her I will have to kill you, quite painfully and slowly."

She said it with perfect sweetness and a smile on her face but there was a look of steel in her eyes and a quality to her voice that told him she was completely serious.

"I'll hold you to that, my Lady," Fili said and she inclined her head.

"See that you do."

Bilba sagged as they left the ballroom, exiting back into the nearly empty room behind the main stage. Nearly empty because there were still guards, as well as Fili's personal guard who'd appeared from somewhere now that he was no longer surrounded by his family and most of Middle Earth's royalty.

So, Fili said slowly, do you want to go back to your room right away? I wanted to show you something.

Alright, Bilba said. Syrath wasn't ready to settle down yet anyway. Even if she went back she wouldn't be able to sleep until he arrived.

Fili grinned and led her out of the room. Outside there were people milling about, those leaving the party and those returning as well as servants rushing back and forth and guards changing rotation. As they moved farther away the amount of people began to thin and the silence grew heavier.

Finally it was just them, and Fili's guards, moving through dark and quiet halls. They passed homes with dark windows and then even those were gone and it was just tunnels of rock winding and twisting this way and that.

They rounded a corner to see a staircase before them, winding up through the rock. Fili stepped onto it and she joined him. The steps went up and up, and up farther still.

"Almost there," Fili said finally, "I always forget just how far this thing goes."

Ahead the stairs flattened out onto a large platform. A set of double doors was set on the far side and Fili jumped up the last few steps and jogged over to it.

He leaned against the door, pressing his palms flat against it and shoving the doors open. Then he turned and grinned at her. "I know you don't like crowds and I know this was a lot more noise and people than you're comfortable with. I thought you might like a few minutes of peace before retiring."

Bilba stepped up to the door and paused.

She was standing on the edge of a massive balcony cut out from the side of the mountain. The floor was a mosaic of small, intricately set tiles. In the glittering light of the full moon she could make out the image of the Durin crest being held by two massive drakes.

"It's the private balcony for our family," Fili said. "We don't have to worry about anyone following us, demanding to meet Orcrist."

Or Erebor's newest heir, Bilba said dryly. She hadn't failed to notice that for every person who wanted to meet her just as many wanted to meet him, most of them female. Every time one had approached him she'd felt a surge of anger and a strange possessiveness. She'd mentioned it to Arwen who'd found the entire thing hilarious and had promised to explain it to her when she wasn't nearly asleep on her feet.

Bilba stepped out onto the balcony, cold night air wrapping around her. She sighed and shut her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. She enjoyed the air outside mountains more than what was inside. It felt free, often carried on a breeze, darting in and out of her body like a live thing before racing off to some new, far off destination.

Anywhere it wanted to go.

She opened her eyes again and moved out farther. The balcony had a massive, curved railing cut from stone and covered with more of the small tiles. The top was wide and Bilba went to climb on it only to pause as she realized it would be difficult to do with a dress on.

Beside her, Fili put a hand on the stone and jumped up easily. Once there he held his hands down and she took them. An instant later he'd pulled her up easily to stand next to him.

Bilba moved to the edge and looked out over the landscape spread out far below. The balcony was in the front of the mountain overlooking the plain between Erebor and Dale. How she'd missed it in her flights with Syrath she had no idea though she imagined that, from below at least, it probably simply looked like a shelf of rock jutting out from the side of the mountain.

She could see a few torches burning in Dale and, directly beneath, the giant torches at the gates of Erebor, held by massive statues, also burned merrily.

Overhead the moon, already sinking toward the horizon as Arwen had suspected, shone bright and stars glimmered, crystal cut in the sharp clarity of the mountain air.

She could feel the tension that had built up over the last few hours beginning to bleed out of her and she sagged to a seated position with a sigh. Fili sat next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

Absently Bilba leaned over until she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her body felt heavy, and her eyes were closing on their own. She yawned and leaned more of her weight against Fili. His arm slid around her waist, supporting her, creating the same weird feeling in her stomach she always got around him, though she was so tired she barely registered it.

I should probably go to the dragon level, she mumbled, you don't want to deal with me if I have a nightmare.

I'll deal with anything you need me to deal with, his voice replied inside her head. I don't want to be there for you only in the good times. I'll be there at all times, no matter what.

She was almost asleep. Part of her wasn't even sure she was correctly hearing what he was saying, or if he was saying anything at all. It could just as easily be her own mind telling her what she wanted to hear.

She'd figure it out when she woke up.

If she remembered.

Maybe…maybe she'd ask him…about why…she yawned again and gave up on trying to think.

Instead she simply slept.

She'd deal with the rest once the sun came up.

Progress report.

Princess Dis and Lord Vili have retired for the night.

Prince Kili is still dancing though it appears he's finally starting to wear down.

His Majesty is in conversation with King Arathorn.

The Crown Prince and the Lady Bilba are on the royal balcony. The Prince's escort is present and guarding the entrance.

Dwalin acknowledged the reports with a grunt and continued striding down the corridor. His hands were clenched in fists at his side and the expression on his face must have been bad indeed for everyone who saw him scrambled to get out of his way, even more so than usual.

He reached a small, simple archway on one of the lowest levels and strode through. Narrow, close stairs lead down and he took them quickly, the air growing still and stagnant the further down he went.

He hated the fact he had to leave her down here.

She would have hated it as well.

If anything she would have wished to stay in the Shire, probably under that oak tree she'd loved so much.

She was here through his own selfishness, he understood that. After his welcome in the Shire had been rescinded he just…couldn't, wouldn't leave her there. Not when it would mean never being near her again.

So he had taken her with him and ensured the Thain's anger against him had turned into an everlasting hate.

He had dealt with it, locked the pain, the grief and the anger away in a deep, dark place. He controlled it, he was controlled, always. The Captain of the Guard of Erebor. He was not ruled by his emotions. They were packed away, obedient, allowed out when he willed it, when he gave permission.

Until tonight.

His hands, if possible, clenched tighter and he ground his teeth until his jaw ached from it.

What was it about that girl?

She showed up out of nowhere, a tiny firebrand wrapped in more layers of hatred and pain than he had, too young to control it, too young to be blamed for it.

Most of it directed straight at him for reasons he still didn't understand and she wasn't willing to share.

Her association with Fili meant he would have come into contact with her at some point no matter what, see her at dinners or in the corridors.

But he seemed to be seeing her everywhere.

She was at training, with Vanguard, wandering the gates when his shift rotation came, with the dragons when he went to visit Xalanth. Every time she saw him her eyes would darken and she would leave, walking with a grace that brought an odd sense of nostalgia with it though he couldn't understand why.

Or he hadn't understood why.

Not until he'd seen her tonight.

She'd been turned away from him, her hair falling over her back, and for a second his heart had lurched in his chest and he'd staggered to a stop as if a wall had suddenly appeared in his path.

He'd been so sure, for that split second; that one instant that beyond all logic, all thought, all reason that he'd been looking at Bella.

Then she'd turned around and his breath had left him in a rush and he'd spent the rest of the evening desperately trying to get himself under control.

He should have been prepared for it. Bella had ten siblings after all. The bloodline had endured, it had to have, and here it was staring him in the face fifty years later. Who knew which of Bella's many siblings she'd descended from, or even a close relative, the family was massive after all, but descend she clearly had and brought the looks that had once graced his wife with her.

He'd forced himself to look at her, cataloging the ways she was different, forcing his mind to understand the difference. She was a dwobbit for a start, Bella had been a hobbit. She was taller, her frame sturdier. She looked at every approaching figure as a threat to be assessed where Bella would have been offering them tea and scones no matter how often he tried to convince her to be more cautious.

The girl bore scars, deep ones, bearing testimony to the harshness of the life she'd lived in the mines. Bella's skin had been unmarked, her life one of ease and peace, at least until the end.

He was moving past rows of doors now, silent ones. No movement came from the other side, no movement would ever come.

The one he wanted was in the back, in a larger area set off to the side. Thorin had insisted he take one of the rooms there, set aside for members of the direct royal bloodline normally but officially gifted to Dwalin and his bloodline.

A bitter, strangled sound escaped him as he headed toward the room.

His bloodline.

He had no bloodline. It had died, with her, on a road while he'd been a world away fighting a battle to save innocents.

Ironic that. Orc raids had been increasing, the creatures getting bolder in light of past successes. A number of smaller towns and villages near Erebor had been razed and the mountain had teamed with the city of Dale to re-educate the orcs on why this was a poor decision.

He'd been saving people, saving them while his own wife died…in an orc raid.

He pressed his hand against a flat piece of stone, unadorned and little different than any other section.

He spoke a word, and blue light shone, tracing a pattern in the stone, words written in Khuzdul, a poem for the lost written by those left in their wake.

A low rumble sounded and the door swung open, scraping through a well-worn path in the stone.

The room beyond was small but then its occupant had no need of much space.

When Thorin had given it to him the room had been just that, a room, a simple hole cut into the stone of the mountain. The intent was the owner would decorate it and Thorin had thrown open the doors of the Treasury and told Dwalin to take what he needed. Neither Thror nor Thrain had objected, to any of it, instead encouraging him to do just as Thorin said.

And so he had.

He'd recreated the Shire for her, as best he could. A sapphire sky sparkled overhead while jade and emerald stood in for grass underfoot and rolling hills on the walls.

On top of one hill he'd done a small version of Bag End in chips of amber and topaz. It was far, as far as his happiness had fled, as far as Belladonna had gone. Always just within sight, always impossibly out of reach.

The rest of the room was dominated by the vault. He'd set it upon a pedestal ringed by stairs. It was carved from a solid block of marble, a small box containing all that remained of a woman whose spirit had been so large the entire Shire could not contain it.

If one were to remove the lid they would find the casket, built from oak, carved with the crest of his house, inlaid with gold.

He hadn't decorated the vault itself, leaving it plain and simple. She wouldn't have wanted the attention on her.

He didn't want the attention on what she had become. So instead he'd placed a portrait of her on the wall overlooking her casket, directly opposite the door, the first thing someone would see upon entering. It was large, a painting he'd insisted on having done so he'd have something to remember her by when he was in Erebor and she was not.

It had been done shortly after their marriage and she still wore the glow of a newlywed. Her hair was pulled over her shoulders, the combs he'd made her slightly visible on the sides of her head, pulling her hair back. Her marriage braid was prominently displayed, the bead he'd carved her nearly sparkling at the end of it.

He knelt before the portrait. At the base, fitted into the bottom of the frame, was that same bead. One either side of it the combs, a matched pair made from ivory set with a cluster of sapphires, diamonds, emeralds and rubies. He'd presented one to her as a courting gift, the other on their wedding day. All three were blackened, blistered and cracked from heat. Both the combs were missing gems and a number of prongs had snapped or bent.

Dearest,

I have a surprise for you. If all goes well, by the time you receive this I'll be in the Blue Mountains so you'll have no reason to rush out and yell at me for being reckless! Well, you probably will do that anyway but at least it won't be on the road in front of a pack of strangers. It's not like it's that dangerous anyway. The road between the Shire and the Blue Mountains is well traveled and protected. It's not like I'm going out into the Wild!

I can't tell you why I'm going. It's part of the surprise. I hope all is going well for you. I love you and I'll see you soon.

Yours Always,

Bella

He reached a hand out and lightly touched the bead, then the combs.

Dwalin,

I don't even know how to write this to you.

Bella's caravan didn't make it to the Blue Mountains.

You need to come back, at once.

We've sent out riders to search.

I don't know what to pray for.

That we find something, or that we don't.

Come quickly.

Sincerely,

Isembard Took

His gut wrenched, in much the same way it had the first time he'd read the letters. He'd been in the field. When he'd returned they'd been waiting for him, laying side by side. The panic he'd felt after the first had him nearly ignoring the second, ready to leave at once. Balin had opened it as he rushed out and had called him back to read it.

He'd known before he got back, could hear it in his brother's voice, feel it echoing along their bond.

His fingers clenched against the wood frame and his eyes burned.

"Damn it, Bella," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "why didn't you wait for me? I would have come."

He allowed his body to sag to the side, twisting until he was seated, his back against the wall under the portrait. He drew his knees up and rested an elbow on one, putting his face in his hand.

In his mind he heard his own running footsteps, tramping through a carefully manicured garden, up a flight of stairs, heard his own hand throwing open a door.

The faint smell of burnt flesh stung his nostrils and the same nausea he'd felt then roiled in his gut once more.

They had all been there, her brothers and sisters, her parents. Silent, stunned, gathered around a door leading into the room she'd grown up in.

Before the Thain had gathered himself and started throwing accusations, casting blame in his grief, Isembard had approached, his body stiff, barely able to move from the sorrow wracking it. He'd held his hand out, combs and bead clutched in it.

"I'm sorry. Dwalin, I'm so, so sorry."

The first tears fell and, for a time, Dwalin allowed his emotions free rein.

Balin says to leave you alone but you say I don't listen anyway sooooooo…are you okay?

Dwalin inhaled sharply, lifting his head and running his hands over his face. He clenched his teeth, forcing his emotions back in their box where they belonged.

I'm fine, Xalanth. Where are you?

Watching Syrath. He's still playing with Aragorn's stupid dragon. I hate Aragorn's stupid dragon. We should ban him from Erebor. And Middle Earth while we're at it.

Dwalin smiled, the barest hint of one to be sure but there all the same.

Do I detect a hint of jealousy?

If that's what you consider a hint I'd hate to see what you consider obvious.

You could always go play with them you know.

Maybe. He's going to come over in a few minutes he said. Balin wants to meet him. You should come join us.

Maybe later.

To be honest he had no desire to be near Xalanth's son, not right at that moment anyway. He didn't begrudge his dragon his son, not in the least, but the sight of it cut at him, worried at a part of his soul that he would have thought long since healed.

"Just you wait," Belladonna's voice rang in his head. "I am a hobbit after all. We're expected to have a lot of children. Just picture it, an entire hoard of little Bella's and Dwalin's running about."

And picture it he had. Being a father. Teaching a little boy to hold a sword, ending any young man who dared look at his little girl.

Would he have been a good father?

Bella had believed so. She'd spent hours with him discussing names, going over what their personalities would be like, what they might look like.

She'd promised to come live in Erebor with him during the winter, returning to the Shire for summer, once the first arrived.

"I want them to know both locations and both families. Bag End can become our summer home. You can join us as time permits."

He hadn't told her yet that Thror had given him permission to take summers off once a child arrived, allowing him to spend the entire year with his family – winters in Erebor and summers in the Shire.

He'd wanted it to be a surprise.

But all of it was gone now. Taken in an instant. Leaving behind only emptiness and a silent crypt.

There would be no children in his future, no wife waiting for him at home. All of it had died with Bella. His once seemingly bright future had grown dark, becoming a wasteland through which he trudged alone.

It held nothing now, no hopes, no dreams, nothing but a howling wind and blowing ash.

And vengeance.

It was some time later that Dwalin pushed to his feet.

He opened the links in his mind he held with a few of his soldiers.

Report.

The Celebration has ended, Sir. All participants have left the ballroom.

The King has retired to his chambers.

The Princess and her husband's situation has not changed.

Prince Kili has returned to his rooms, finally.

Prince Fili escorted Orcrist to her rooms before retiring to his own. The girl stayed there only long enough to change, however, and is now wandering the battlements.

Dwalin shook his head. Did the girl never sleep? Even as he thought it he found himself chuckling. He was certainly one to talk. He slept as little as possible, his dreams haunted by images of Bella under attack, being struck down, crying to him for help.

He could never reach her.

He headed out, absently tracing a hand along the marble surface of the vault as he did.

He left and shut the door behind him and headed back toward the upper levels.

As he neared the stairs he caught sight of a shadow against the wall. He walked past it with a grunt, his mood souring further.

Nori detached from where he'd been leaning and fell into step alongside him.

"What?" Dwalin growled.

Nori didn't take offense at his tone, not that he ever did.

"My raven just returned from Mirkwood. Apparently someone broke into the palace Treasury."

"Yeah?" Dwalin said. "What did they take?"

"Nothing."

"They get chased off?"

"No. They appear to have gotten away clean."

Dwalin stopped on the stairs and turned to face the Spymaster. "What are you talking about?"

"I'd love to know myself," Nori said. "Someone broke into the Mirkwood Treasury without being seen and apparently took absolutely nothing."

Dwalin glowered. "Are Thranduil's riches so miniscule he would notice something gone? Especially this quickly?"

A smile played at the corners of Nori's lips but he merely shrugged and said, "I would not presume to know the size of another kingdom's treasure."

That was a lie and they both knew it.

Dwalin leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright, so what does this have to do with us?"

"I was wondering," Nori said, "what the odds might be of Nar having an agent in Mirkwood and then someone entirely unrelated breaking in."

Dwalin raised an eyebrow. "You think they're connected?"

"They could very well be," Nori leaned against the wall on the other side. He pulled a dagger out from somewhere and absently began cleaning his nails with it. "I'll be interested to see if my other ravens return to inform me that his agents have left Gondor and Rohan or if we find out that Beryl has made a miraculous recovery and is even now on her way home."

"You think they used Fili's Celebration to mask something?"

"It would make sense would it not?" Nori put the dagger away, his face lacking the good humor he usually wore. "It would have taken coordination, more than could be gained from mere runners carrying messages."

"Which goes back to the idea that they have some other form of communication we don't know about." Dwalin sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "Alright, so if your birds do report back that his agents are gone then, what? Were they all treasury break-ins or something else?"

"I don't know," Nori groused. "I don't even have the verification it was anything at all. If it was, though, tonight would be the night to do it. Everyone was here, royalty, nobility and all their security. The various kingdoms would have been on low alert, understaffed even. Perfect for whatever it was they were doing."

"Except for here," Dwalin mused.

"It wouldn't have worked here anyway," Nori said, "Our Treasury is on the royal level, past multiple doors with multiple passwords. It can't be accessed by simply waiting for a couple of guards to be off their focus."

"We'll alert Thorin once he wakes up," Dwalin said, pushing off the wall. "That should have given the birds you sent to Rohan and possibly Gondor time to return at least, if they're returning at all. It'll give us a better idea of what's going on."

"If they do return I'd recommend alerting the other kings to check their own treasuries, as a start at least."

Dwalin nodded. "You have no idea what they could have been looking for?"

Nori hesitated. "Something kept in the treasuries of each of the kingdoms, or perhaps something kept by a representative of each race and they simply didn't know which kingdom held it?" He hesitated. "I can only think of one thing. One thing that might be held in a treasury that each race might hold." He gave Dwalin a dark look. "Something other than gold or jewels because they weren't touched."

Dwalin paused in the act of beginning to go up the stairs again. "Are you talking about the keys?" At Nori's look he scoffed, shaking his head. "That's a massive conclusion to draw based on one break in. Even if we find out that's what they were up to, and that's a very big stretch, they wouldn't know what they all looked like. I couldn't tell you what the dwarven key looked like and Thorin couldn't tell you what the elven or human keys looked like. Then, even if they could somehow get them all, it'd still be a matter of locating the cage and that's been lost for centuries."

"Almost as long as the fabled hobbit key," Nori agreed. He sighed. "I don't know. It does seem ridiculous but something in my gut keeps bringing me back to it. You remember the wizard? He was interested in the keys too. Why? He was willing to walk into the midst of the goblins to search for it. Why now?"

"I don't know," Dwalin replied. "It could just be coincidence. You realize how many obstacles would have to be overcome to make any headway in such a plan? One would have to be a lunatic."

"Or know something we don't," Nori said. "I'm not all knowing Dwalin, no matter how much I may play to it. What if I missed something?"

That admission alone had Dwalin reconsidering. Nori rarely if ever admitted to not knowing something. It was even rarer for him to admit to any level of fear about something.

He was effectively admitting to both.

"We'll alert Thorin," he said finally. "As soon as he's up. We'll lay the entire thing out, regardless of if the birds are back. Most of the other royals are still here, or at least their representatives are, if need be a council can be convened to let them know of our suspicions."

Nori nodded. "Alright. Meanwhile I'll keep a closer eye on Nar, try to see if the agent from Mirkwood makes contact."

Dwalin snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. Fili was saying something about Nar. He was acting weird around the girl, something about a ring she was wearing."

"A ring?" Nori frowned. "Why would he care about a ring?"

"I have no idea," Dwalin said. "If you'd let me arrest the bastard I'd find out for you."

"We still have no proof," Nori replied. "We arrest him and everyone he's working with, everyone working for him is gone. I'll talk to Fili, find out what exactly Nar did."

"Agreed," Dwalin said. "In the meantime I'll up switch up security rotations again." He already did it on a regular basis, preventing enemies from learning them, but it couldn't hurt to do it more often.

Nori agreed, adding he would increase his spies in the field.

The two began walking up the stairs once more, conferring on ways to increase Erebor's safety.

Behind them the dead of Erebor kept silent in their crypts, their secrets held close to their chest.

All but one whose secret currently walked the battlements far overhead.

And watched the sun rise, where her mother could not.