Surprise! Here is another chapter for you. This one has actually been done for some time, but I wanted to at least get the next one written before posting it. Then life and other things got in the way, more battles with my depression... But here in the last few days, Middle-earth has been on my mind, and I read through ACoF thinking it might stir my Muse. Seems it has, I'm about to get work done on another chapter, so I thought I would go ahead and post this one.

Prepare yourselves for the first chapter of Kíli's story!

86. Emissary

With the threat to their lives greatly lessened by the death of Hagen, Thorin and Rejna both dismissed their second guardians. Because Dwalin had sworn it was what he would have always done, to protect his king, this meant Kíli was the one released to live his life as he chose.

He still spent much of his time with his family, doting on his little sister or his niece, and also playing with Dwalar, but he also spent a fair amount of time on his own, with Thafar faithfully by his side. He went hunting, explored the foothills of the mountains, and even went out fishing once with the crew of the Morren.

But no matter how busy he kept himself, Kíli still felt restless. He secretly felt as though he were just waiting for something to happen, though he could not fathom what he was waiting for.

Today he'd woken with the desire to go on another one of his solitary rambles. Fíli was busy caring for Melindë and Meldís, and his mother and Zari were with them. Balin was hanging out with Larkspur and Dwalar, Dwalin was with Thorin while he was on a tour of Westrock. Everyone in the family had something to do except for him, leading Kíli to almost missing being Thorin's guardian.

Almost. He'd not been fond of traipsing around in armor every day.

After a stop at the stable to look in on his pony and her new foal, Kíli decided to pay a visit to the owlery. Not for any purpose other than to visit with the ravens that also nested there—he did not expect any messages, certainly not for him.

Certainly not from her—the owner of the pretty face and bright blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for longer than he cared to admit.

He climbed to the balcony outside the roost and leaned against the railing. Looking out over the valley from here, he had to admit that it was a beautiful sight to behold, and he wondered briefly if there were any similar views from Erebor's vantage points—his time there had been so brief, and so much of it spent inside the mountain, that he honestly could not recall much of it.

"At last!" cried a large raven as it landed beside him. The avian looked familiar to Kíli, and after a moment of studying it, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Master Corax? Is that you?" he asked.

The raven bobbed its head. "Aye, 'tis Corax with whom you speak. And you are Kíli, yes?"

Kíli bowed. "Indeed, I am. How do you do? We sent you north many months ago, and thought perhaps you had chosen to stay there."

"Pleased was I to look upon the homeland of my forebears, but Erebor is far too cold in the winter," said Corax with a ruffle of his feathers. "Dwarrowvale is where my heart lies, so when I learned of King Bard's plan to travel here, I offered my services. Tasman was dispatched ahead of the party's departure and I remained with them until their arrival in Minas Tirith. Then this morning, I was asked by Her Majesty Queen Tauriel to come and inform King Ragin of their arrival in Gondor. But oh, I must catch my breath first, I have flown many hours."

"Then take your rest, Master Corax," said Kíli then. "I should be glad to deliver Queen Tauriel's message in your stead."

She's here. She's here. Just a two-day ride and I could see her again.

Stop it! You are not interested in Princess Tilda!

"I would be grateful indeed, Master Kíli," Corax replied. "Aside from informing His Majesty of their arrival, I'm to say that the planned duration of their stay in Minas Tirith will be a fortnight, before the party would move on to Dwarrowvale. I am to offer congratulations on behalf of Dale's royal family to Master Thorin and Princess Rejna on the occasion of their marriage and the impending birth of their child. Also, King Bard has asked me to say to Master Thorin—I suppose he is Prince Thorin again now—'Not too old for such youthful pursuits after all, are you?'"

For a moment Kíli wondered how Bard and Tauriel could have even heard about Thorin's baby, when Nori—with whom Thorin had shared the news in Rivendell—would have only reached Erebor at the time of the Dale party's departure, or shortly before. Then he remembered that Thorin had sent a raven to Erebor with the news after the first of the year. Daín would have told Bard then.

Bidding Corax farewell, Kíli hurried from the owlery. Thafar, who'd rested peacefully at the bottom of the hill, hopped up and yipped a greeting, then trotted along at his side as he headed for the palace. Though still young at just over a year old, the predator's presence disturbed the birds, so Kíli always ordered him to remain there so as not to cause a disturbance.

Once inside the palace, he asked a guard if he knew the location of the king, and was informed that "His Majesty is in the council chambers with Prince Thorin, who returned a short while ago from Westrock."

Kíli thanked the young soldier and started away. The soldier called out to him, and when he turned back he was asked,

"Forgive me, sir, if I speak out of turn, but… The talk going round this last moon is that Prince Thorin said he was Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor reborn. That he and his nephews were all sent back by Sulladad because the Maker wept at the sight of them in the Halls of Waiting."

Kíli's eyebrow winged up. How that part of the story had gotten out, he couldn't be sure, but as it had there was no use in denying it. Thorin had told them to answer any questions asked of them honestly, and boy had there been a lot of questions in the weeks since the challenge. This young fellow must really be new if he had no idea that the dwarf of whom he had asked the question was one of the nephews he'd just mentioned.

"Mahal did weep when he saw us, Corporal," he confirmed with a nod; the soldier's eyes widened at the words. "Our deaths were not the fate he had imagined for us. And then my uncle begged that he not weep, as our deaths were honorable. We fell in defense of our ancestral homeland and the lives of innocents."

"But… but why come here? Why would Sulladad send back the King of Erebor if he wasn't to be king there?"

"Because he will be king here, one day," said Kíli. "You see, we were each of us told that a price must be paid in order to be granted new lives. For Thorin, that price was the kingship of Erebor. Sulladad himself told him that he need not regret the loss, for a new destiny awaited him that would grant him the deepest desires of his heart. We came here because Mahal told my uncle this was were he would find that destiny. And think about it, Corporal—what did he find when he came here? He found his One, and she will soon give him a son of his own. He found that one of Dwarrowvale's own had been plotting in secret to take over the throne. Thorin was sent here instead of being allowed to return to Erebor because here is where his One lived, and because Dwarrowvale needed him."

"And why did you come, if I may ask?"

Kíli shrugged. "Erebor had not the same meaning for me that it did for my uncle, and he gave it up. I had no reason to stay there as we believed my mother dead. My brother and I followed Thorin to Dwarrowvale because he was the last of our kin, and because our love and loyalty was with the only family we had left."

"So the princess from Erebor, she is your mother?"

At this, Kíli smiled. "That she is."

The soldier shook his head. "I almost can't believe Lord Hagen would have done such a thing as to send anyone to poison her just to keep her from having more children. At least, that's the story I heard."

"And that story is true, lad," Kíli said. "The blood of Durin is strong in the senior line, perhaps moreso than in the others. That is why the Deceiver feared us so much that he resurrected the pale orc to hunt us down. It is why he manipulated Lord Hagen into sending his daughter to poison my mother, so she'd not have another son who could take the kingship for himself."

"But how could the Deceiver have done that if he's a disembodied spirit stuck in a tower miles away from us?"

This much, Kíli knew, they were not supposed to reveal. The story of the palantír was to be kept under wraps, as Thorin and the king wished to keep anyone else susceptible to Sauron's manipulation from trying to find another one. With another shrug, he replied at last, "That, unfortunately, we don't know. Hagen kept a few diaries, but he never revealed in them just how his Master made contact with him."

It wasn't entirely a falsehood—they still didn't know where Hagen had gotten the seeing stone.

"Listen, Corporal, I am glad to have spoken with you and answered your questions," he said. "I should be glad to share our story anytime, but I really must go and speak with the king."

A startled look came over the dwarrow's face then. "Oh, forgive me, Captain! I did not mean to keep you from your duty."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Kíli left the soldier and headed for the council chamber. Outside the chamber he greeted Dwalin and the other guards before being announced. When he stepped over the threshold, he found not only Thorin and King Ragin seated at the table, but Halvar as well. Thafar greeted his sister with a bark and a woo, which Bahûna returned before the two settled down together in the female wolf's spot before the unlit fireplace.

"Forgive me uncle, Your Majesty, Lord Halvar…" Kíli said when he saw that his uncle and the king were not alone. "I did not mean to interrupt anything important."

"It's nothing, really, Captain," said Halvar as he waved off his words. Kíli's eyebrow winged up again; everyone he encountered still addressed him by the rank, though he had not earned it, neither was he still one of his uncle's bodyguards.

"You should not vacillate so, Halvar," said Thorin. "The news you brought to us is indeed of import."

"I can come back later," Kíli suggested, but Halvar waved him off again.

"It is all well that you are here, sir," the elder dwarf said. "You'll learn of the circumstances eventually, I do not doubt."

Kíli looked between the three dwarves at the table. "Learn what, my lord?"

Halvar sighed. "A maid who once worked in my father's house—my house now, though I still am not quite used to thinking of it so—has come forward since the announcement regarding the change to the inheritance laws which allows adopted children to inherit," he began. "She claims the child she carries, which she will bear about the same time our princess shall birth hers, was sired by my father."

"That sounds familiar," Kíli muttered. "Did not Telka work as a maid in in Eastfell Hall when she claims to have conceived Lita?"

"Indeed," said Halvar. "I've little doubt my mother is correct and I have any number of illegitimate half-siblings out there. And while certainly the girl could merely be trying to take advantage of the amended law, my mother interviewed her in private and has assured me she believes her story genuine. Amad said that the girl relayed information about my father's person that only one who has seen him unclothed and up close could possibly know of."

A shudder passed through Kíli then, as the remark brought to mind his own mother's being coerced into sharing a bed with her first slave master.

"Then I am sorry for her," he said. "No doubt she was coerced because he was a lofty lord and she just a servant."

Halvar scoffed. "That is what she told us. Inger said that she did all she could to discourage his attentions, but that he apparently grew weary of her resistance and forced himself on her."

Kíli scowled then, as this remark reminded him of the history Melindë had shared with his family.

"He took advantage of her several times, Inger said, until it became clear that she was with child," Halvar went on. "That was when he dismissed her from our service."

"Wretched scoundrel," Thorin growled. "To take advantage of anyone under his employ was crime enough, but to then punish her for his sins? Contemptible."

"What do you mean to do about the girl and her child, if I may ask?" Kíli queried.

Halvar sighed again. "I have not yet decided whether to take her child as my own, but I have taken her back into our employ. If nothing else, the babe will be well brought up with the generous salary we pay our servants, which was better than she was making at the inn she found employment with after leaving Eastfell. And given my mother's assurances of her veracity… I will at the least claim the child as a brother or sister. I'll not do to this innocent as my father did to Lita, and deny it any claim to family."

"You are a capital dwarrow indeed, Lord Halvar," spoke up King Ragin. "It is good you gave her leave to return to Eastfell Hall, whether you adopt the child as your heir or not. It shows that you are willing to accept your father's illegitimate offspring as kin, and I am sure even that much may impress upon others the honor in acknowledging such by-blows."

As Halvar appeared to be feeling some discomfiture with the king's praise, and Kíli couldn't say he blamed the fellow, Thorin then asked what had brought him to the palace.

"Oh, yes!" he said, brightening as he remembered. "Corax—the raven we sent north all those months ago to tell Daín to share our return with the Company—landed in the owlery a short while ago while I was there enjoying the view."

Thorin chuckled. "I thought Corax had decided to remain in the north, he's been gone so long. What brought him back?"

"He traveled with the party from Dale because the cold winter in the north was not to his liking. Today he came on request of Tauriel, who asked him to convey news of their arrival in Minas Tirith. He was to say that they will be in residence there for a fortnight before coming on to Dwarrowvale, as well as offer the congratulations of the family on the occasion of your marriage and the impending birth of your son. Oh, and Bard bade him say 'Not too old for such youthful pursuits after all, are you?'"

Thorin snorted as he glanced toward the king, who wore a smile. "Apparently it matters not what I believe."

Ragin laughed, eliciting the same from Kíli and Halvar. "I say, agnât'dashat, perhaps we ought take advantage of this opportunity," said the king.

Thorin looked to him. "To what purpose?"

"Well, we have need to increase our good standing with the Steward of Gondor—to reaffirm trade contracts and the like in any case," Ragin said. "Such an errand would impress upon the King of Dale how fairly we conduct relations with other nations."

"But Your Majesty," spoke up Halvar, "does not Princess Rejna usually conduct those negotiations on behalf of the kingdom? Would it be wise to send her on such an errand in her present condition?"

"She cannot travel so far when she is with child," said Thorin.

"Oh, I am sure she could, Thorin—you know how hardy we dwarrow are. After all, did not dams from Erebor travel the continent carrying unborn children after the dragon came?" said Ragin.

He then lifted his eyes to Kíli. "But do not worry, my son," he continued before Thorin could issue the protest that was surely on his lips. "I would not wish to subject my daughter to such a journey unnecessarily, even though you would surely attend her if I were to do so. No, I have another in mind to serve as our emissary."

"And who might that be?"

King Ragin lifted his hand. "Why, he stands before us."

Kíli blinked rapidly as he realized the king was referring to him. "What? You mean me?" he stuttered. "Nay, I am no politician, Your Majesty. Fíli would be a wiser choice than I, he's trained under Thorin for such things. But of course, he's just had a bairn so he's not gonna go anywhere."

"Kíli, do not think so little of your own merits," his uncle said then. "It was you, I remind you, who negotiated with the elves in Forlond for fishing privileges in the river that ran through their forest."

"Great salmon in that river," Kíli said absently.

Why do you protest? asked his inner voice. You know you want to go—you'll get to see her again.

Stop it! he growled back silently.

"Kíli," said Thorin, drawing his attention back to those he faced. "While it is true your brother has had more training in politics than you have, I do believe you attended enough of those sessions to know how to handle yourself. You know how I think, what my desires are like to be, and I believe I can safely say that His Majesty and I think much the same."

"Meaning we all want to see Dwarrowvale prosper," added Ragin. "In truth, Captain, I imagine you to have very little real politicking to do. Our trade agreements with Minas Tirith are really quite simple, and little has changed in the last few years. I suspect that all you will have to do is get Turgon to agree not to raise prices for their goods or taxes on ours."

"Oh, well… I suppose that's not so bad," Kíli conceded.

"You need some useful employment, irakdashat. Having nothing to do all day has made you restless, and I should not like to see your intellect wither with no occupation for your mind as well as your body. This request of King Ragin's will give you an opportunity to discover if such a position is to your liking," said Thorin.

Kíli already knew what he wanted to do—at least, he had an idea. But he'd not shared it with anyone as yet for fear of being thought foolish.

"There is also the added motivation of seeing old friends again, sooner than the rest of us will be granted the privilege," his uncle continued. "It has been near two years since last we met with the King and Queen of Dale."

"And Princess Tilda," Kíli added, her pretty face coming once more to his mind's eye.

"Oh yes. Her as well."

"Go, Master Kíli, and pack your bags," declared King Ragin as he stood then. Thorin and Halvar followed suit as he added, "Thorin, go to my daughter and have her make a list of any subjects our emissary might particularly wish to address. I will have someone go into the archives and bring out our copies of the contracts with Minas Tirith."

Kíli remained still, as though he could not quite grasp the turn of events. His uncle moved away from the table and stepped up to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he said, "You'd best go and get ready, irakdashat. It is your king's desire that you serve as his ambassador—and I am sure it will not be the hardship you imagine it to be."

Seeing Tilda again? No. That wouldn't be a hardship at all.

-…-

When at last Kíli reached the family stable on Dwalin and Larkspur's property, he stopped short on seeing that not just one, but two ponies had been saddled. Balin was tying a pack to one of the ponies that had pulled the cart he'd arrived in with Nori the autumn before. Narag, Thorin's own pony—Kíli could hardly take Mist when she'd just had a foal—waited beside the little paint his cousin had chosen.

"Bal, what are you doing?" he asked.

Balin's eyebrows rose. "I should think it obvious, laddie. I'm going with you."

Kíli felt a scowl descend over his face. "Wait, so Thorin and King Ragin talk me into doing this, but they don't trust me to do it? What is the point in my even going then?"

A face flashed across his mind's eye, but he ignored it.

"No need to get yourself riled up there, Kíli," his distant cousin admonished. "I don't go to look over your shoulder, though I was asked to advise you if you have any questions. I do not go to represent Dwarrowvale, I go only to assist you."

"Oh," Kíli said. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little nervous about this whole ambassador thing. I'm not used to representing a whole country!"

Balin chuckled. "What about the elves in Forlond? You did very well with them."

Kíli snorted. "Bal, that was one little negotiation a dozen years ago—well, more than that now, since I skipped four. Anyway, the only reason I did it was because no one else was willing to even speak to those elves—including you!"

"They insulted my beard!" Balin retorted indignantly.

"And apologized later for the error, remember? I told you they didn't understand what cultivating a beard means to a dwarf," Kíli reminded him.

Balin sighed. "And you're the only one who bothered to take the time to get to know them and learn that they didn't understand. Now, as your uncle told me, you're likely to have little to do but see to it last year's agreements are renewed, so just relax. Take time to enjoy the city while you're there—and, no doubt, certain female company."

Kíli snorted again as he finished securing his pack to Narag's saddle and climbed up into it. "I'm not Fíli, Bal. I won't be visiting any brothels while we're there. Heck, even he wouldn't be visiting them if he were going."

Balin smiled as he climbed into the saddle and urged his pony to begin moving. "I wasn't talking about you visiting brothels, lad. I just thought you might be looking forward to making the acquaintance of young Tilda again."

Her face the last time he'd seen her flashed across his consciousness again. Kíli still hated the sad look in Tilda's eyes, and himself the worse for having put it there.
Clearing his throat, he ignored Balin's knowing gaze and said, "Yeah, sure, seeing her and Bard and Tauriel again is a bonus. But they were gonna come to Dwarrowvale anyway."

"But we're to remain in Minas Tirith until they depart, and travel back with them," Balin pointed out. "More than enough time."

Kíli frowned. "More than enough time for what?"

Balin ignored the question, choosing instead to begin a lesson in how to negotiate. "Just in case it's needed," he said. "We ought to have a look at those contracts when we're stopped for the night, and go over them together so you're familiar with the contents."

"Probably a good idea, as I haven't a bloody clue what sort of goods the dwarves here would trade with the Men of Gondor," Kíli agreed.

"I imagine much the same as we traded with the Men up North when we lived in the Blue Mountains. But then, I could be wrong. The Men of the south do seem to have different tastes. I'm actually pleased Thorin asked me to advise you, as Daín has wondered if Erebor ought to establish relations with Gondor," Balin mused. "This trip will give me a good idea how this Steward of theirs operates and I shall be able to take an informed report of him back to the king."

Though they'd all known the day would come, hearing Balin talk of leaving them still felt like a blow to the chest. "So… when do you expect to head north again?"

Balin drew a breath and released it slowly. "With Bard's company when they make their journey. I imagine they will not stay much longer than the end of the month as they're like to want to be back in Dale again before winter comes."

Balin's gaze traveled to the people around the Valley as they headed for the open end of the mountains that surrounded Dwarrowvale. "Had I not the obligations I do in the north, I might just be inclined to stay here," he said, the confession a little surprising. "The winter climate in the south is certainly much more agreeable to these old bones of mine. And the land is good, the people—for the most part—inviting. They're clearly a hardworking lot, and welcoming the blood of Men into their families has seen so many prosper. There are so many more children here than in Erebor."

"Well, Bal, it has been only five years now since we got the mountain back," Kíli reminded him. "Give it time—I'm sure the people will prosper there as well."

"I hope you're right, laddie. I sure hope you're right."

-...-

Kíli said nothing about it to Balin, but his pointed mention of Tilda not only kept her firmly in mind the rest of the day, but also brought to mind some odd behavior he'd noticed among his family.

Ever since Tasman had arrived about two months before, bringing Bard's request that Thorin speak to the king on his behalf, there had been funny looks thrown his way. Conversation, especially between his mother and brother, would abruptly cease when he entered a room. And they had teased him almost mercilessly about his outburst that Tilda was not a child but still too young to marry—even Dwalin had joined in on that, and he was not one to joke about.

He'd shaken his head with frustration, both at the actions of his family and at himself. In truth, he had been thinking of Princess Tilda a lot recently—that is, a lot more than he normally did, which was more often than he cared to admit—especially since that day. It was as though knowing he would soon see her had awakened something inside himself, though he had no clue as to what. He had no idea why her, of all people, he should become fixated on.

When the two stopped at last at a cozy little inn in a small village in Lamedon, when they had settled at a table in the corner for a later dinner, Kíli waited until they'd both had several mouthfuls before he posed a question to his companion.

"Balin… Would you tell me if something was going on? With the family, I mean."

Balin's bushy white eyebrows rose. "What makes you think so, lad?"

He described the way their kin had acted around him in recent weeks. Balin's cheeks grew rosy and he shook his head as he chuckled.

"Kíli, you're a smart dwarf, but regrettably a little slow on the uptake sometimes," the elder dwarf said, earning him a scowl in response. "Your amad and your brother are of the mind that the reason you've not been able to feel as happy as the others of our kin who've recently wed is because of your One."

Kíli scoffed and dismissed his words with a flick of his hand. "Oh, Amad and I have already talked about that. She days it's because I yearn to be as happy as they are, that I yearn even more for my One because so many of those I am close to are united with theirs."

Balin swallowed a mouthful of mead. "Aye, and I can say honestly that I believe that theory as well," he said. "But they think there is much more to it than that. They believe you have already met her, and your misery is due to being away from her."

Tilda's bright blue eyes flashed across his mind yet again. Her sweet smile, though he had seen it only once or twice. And though the dining room was full of smoke and food smells and more than a little body odor, Kíli swore right then that he could smell the same sweet scent that had lingered on his jacket after Tilda had worn it the night he'd gotten his memories back.

Forcefully pushing thoughts of her aside, Kíli snorted. "Well, that's bollocks. I'd know it if I had."

"Would you?" Balin asked, a pointed look in his eyes.

Kíli turned his head away. Taking this as an apparent invitation to continue, Balin said, "Cousin, you fell in love with Tauriel and no doubt thought she was your One. But she is now wed to another and has borne him two babes."

He heaved a sigh. "I did think so, at the time, but I have accepted that she moved on not because she did not return my love, but because our hearts were never meant to belong to each other. Or if they were, that was one more thing about both our destinies that was altered by Azog's resurrection."

After taking a pull of his own drink, Kíli added, "In any case, I don't think of her in that way anymore and haven't for a long time. Tauriel's another male's wife now, and I would respect that even if I still thought she was my One."

Balin nodded sagely. "Very wisely spoken, lad. But just because Tauriel has proven not to be your One, does not mean that she is not someone you have already met."

"If that were so, then how come we're not together now? How come I can't even fathom which of the females I've met with since my rebirth she could be?"

Bright blue sparkling eyes…

"Can you really not? Is there not one whom you have at least thought of with greater frequency than any other?"

Kíli had lifted his mug again, preparing to take a drink as he started to shake his head, when an occasion he'd all but forgotten came suddenly and forcefully to his mind's eye: Tilda leaning over him, one of her hands firmly grasping his, the other stroking his hair away from his face. "It's all right, Kíli. Shh, it's all right."

Hers was the first face he had seen, her bright blue eyes the first to look into his, her hands the first touch he remembered of this new life. Her expression had been full of concern and a strong desire to see him well again. It was she who had followed him when he'd stormed out of Bard's dining parlor, braving his fierce Durin temper; she who had offered comfort when he'd believed his mother lost to him.

Maybe you loved her just enough to learn to love someone else.

No. It was impossible—absolutely impossible!