A.N: Sorry for the silence yesterday, I took the children to the local castle to watch jousting. There's something oddly thrilling about watching grown men in armour on horses charging at each other with pointy sticks. Final three chapters today.
Chapter Forty-Eight: Fili
T.A 2894 Ered Luin
"Fili, Kidhuzurâl," his mother says from the door to his room. Kili is off somewhere with Frerin but Fili has studies to catch up on and for a change Frerin had listened to their mother on the subject.
"Yes, Amad?" He sets the scroll aside, something about the affect the price of corn has on the economy.
"I wanted to talk to you about your future."
Fili gestures at the scrolls littered across his bed and the desk filled with books and sheets of parchment.
"I've got a fairly good idea of what my future looks like," he grumbles.
"No," Amad smiles, "that's Thorin's department. I wanted to talk to you about children, and marriage.
"Mahal, Amad!" He exclaims. "I know where babies come from!" He isn't an idiot and between Frerin, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin he's had 'the talk' plenty of times.
"I'm aware your uncles have handled that," she smiles.
"We're careful," he assures her. "There won't be any children muddying the line of succession."
Dwarf sexual maturity hits later than in other races, a good thing given they aren't considered of age until they hit seventy. Basic physical maturity follows the same basic timeline as Men, but that's more to do with their craft and their skill as warriors than anything according to the theologists. He tries not to think about it.
"I'm sure you are," she pulls a face, "as I am just as certain that I don't need to know about it." Fili can live with that. "I wanted to talk to you about marriage," she continues. "I know Thorin has told you this once, but I think you need to hear it again. We won't choose a wife for you, not unless you ask it."
"And if I decide not to marry?" Fili asks. "Or if my One is someone deemed unsuitable? What if my One is an elf?"
"And where would you meet an elf, Kidhuzurâl?" She chuckles. "Even if it were an elf made for you by Mahal, we wouldn't stop it. Although, I would ask you to consider the political ramifications, and Kili wouldn't think you for making him king."
"I know," Fili sighs. "I don't think I have a One and I can't marry for the sake of an heir. It wouldn't be fair."
"No, it wouldn't," she agrees, "and there's always Kili."
"Mahal help us," he mutters.
"Be nice," she says firmly. "And don't let what happened to your Adad and I, or Frerin and his One, affect how you see marriage. Vili and I only had a few years and I miss him more than I can say, but I don't regret a single one of them. I treasure every memory I have of him and I don't want you to avoid happiness just because you're afraid of getting hurt like I was. Promise me, if love finds you, you won't run away from it."
"I promise, Amad," he replies solemnly. He doubts he will ever have to follow through but he won't deny her this comfort.
T.A. 2942 The Shire
It has been a long trip back, Fili thinks, long and dull but for the company. It has also lacked distinctly in privacy and if there is one thing, he misses about Erebor it's the privacy. He can still hear the mountain, even this far away from her. Bluebell can as well, and he doesn't think they will ever stop hearing her song no matter where they roam. Erebor isn't happy about the separation, they didn't expect her to be, but those who live in her heart understand that if everything is going to be fixed it will have to be Bluebell who goes to fetch the new hobbit colony, the other hobbits won't listen to Belladonna and this task is theirs not hers. Besides, she's due to give birth any day and won't be travelling for several years. This needs to be done now not later. So, Fili and Bluebell did the only thing that they could do, they left as soon as they could to complete the task given to them.
They carry a part of the mountain with them always, in their hearts as well as in the shards that decorate their marriage braids. Fili hasn't been able to bring himself to tell Thorin about the ultimate cost of their joining with the mountain, Frerin and Belladonna are ignorant as well. Kili knows, somehow the thought of his brother remaining ignorant to the fact that Fili and Bluebell will never enter the Halls to wait with his forefathers or Yavanna's Fields was worse than the alternative. Kili had almost wept when he realised that their souls would be trapped in the mountain for eternity, never resting and never to be reborn when the world is remade. Better, though, that Fili and Bluebell sacrifice a peaceful eternity to save the land and the ones that they love than that they doom the world.
They parted ways with Legolas in Rivendell, leaving him in the care of Elrond's twin sons. The elf isn't so bad, and neither are Elladan and Elrohir now that he has actually had a chance to appreciate their sense of humour, but Legolas wants to see more of the world and that isn't going to be the plan for Fili and Bluebell for some time. Frerin had made a point of asking them to ensure that Legolas met with the twins and Fili is glad they had been able to make sure it happened.
Gloin, Bombur and two of the guards left them in Bree to head to Ered Luin and begin to gather the final caravan of the year, as well as update Dis on everything that couldn't be put into a letter. Fili almost wishes he could have gone with them, he misses his mother, but there is too much to do in the Shire and he can't bear the thought of being parted from Bluebell. They have about seven weeks before they will have to meet the caravan in Bree. Long enough for Bluebell to settle her family affairs and try to persuade a few hobbit families to join them. From everything she has told Fili about them it may well prove a monumental task but Yavanna has promised that enough hobbits will follow to repopulate the lands around Erebor within a few generations. Kili has opted to stay with them, obviously still more shaken by the events in Erebor than he wants to admit. Fili can't say he blames him. He's still having trouble processing it all himself.
"That you, Miss Bluebell?" A hobbit asks and his wife halts her pony.
"Hello, Mr Proudfoot."
"What are you doing here?" The old man asks and Bluebell frowns. "Only, them Sackville-Baggins lot are insisting that you're dead and gone! They're at Bag End now with the Thain trying to get their hands on the keys."
"I'm going to hang Otho up by his toe hair and castrate him," Bluebell snarls.
"It's his missus who started it," Mr Proudfoot corrects her.
"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest," she hisses. "Time to deal with her as well." She smiles coldly at the hobbit, then turns to Fili. "Shall we, my love?"
"Lead on, amrâlimê," he gestures. They nudge the ponies to move a little bit faster, not far from their destination in any case, and as they approach the smial they can clearly hear the raised voice of Hamfast Gamgee.
"They said summer, sir," he says to one of the three hobbits with their backs to the road. "An', beggin' your pardon, but summer isn't over yet. I'll not be giving this here key up to anyone until summer's over and the wills have been read."
"If they even left wills," a shrill voiced woman says.
"Mrs Belladonna said they did," Hamfast argues.
"Ah, yes, the word of a mad woman," the shrill voice scoffs.
"Well, if you won't take my mother's word, Lobelia, how about you take mine," Bluebell snaps as she gets off her pony. The three hobbits all turn to look as Fili and Kili follow his wife's example. Better to let Bluebell deal with this, she knows her fellow hobbits, after all.
Bluebell tilts her chin in a manner Fili has so often seen Thorin use, something he's done more than once recently as well. She barely looks like the hobbit who left this sleepy place a little over fifteen months ago. She's lean and strong from hard travel, garbed in fabrics of rich blue and silver, the colours of the line of Durin, that are not the mid-calf length dresses of hobbits but thick trousers to nearly her ankles, a well-fitting tunic and light hooded cloak. Her little sword, dubbed Sting after the incident with the spiders, is belted at her hip and two harnesses cross her chest with five pairs of throwing knives attached. Her hair is neatly caught back with only the braids that indicate her status hanging free. Her marriage braid (held with a shard of the Arkenstone that only Fili can remove) hangs beside the braid with the tiny gold bead that marks her as Frerin's daughter. On the other side is the braid and mithril bead that shows her to be the future queen of Erebor.
"I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Lobelia comments with an arched eyebrow and a sneer.
"Well, you'd know all about that wouldn't you," Bluebell replies. "Surik, Freya, deal with the ponies and bring our gear inside," her tone is far more brisk than she would usually use. In truth Fili had begun to despair of the idea that she would ever become accustomed to giving orders. Their guard simply clash their fists twice to their breastplates and come forwards to claim the faithful animals.
"My lady," Freya acknowledges, "My lords," she inclines her head and follows the directions Bluebell had given on the way to a pasture.
"Lobelia, Otho, get off my land!" She barks. "Rest assured that in the event of my death Bag End would go to someone who deserved it." A portly male with a pointed nose straightens. "Our wills make it very clear that cousin Drogo would inherit everything. You wouldn't even see a silver spoon." She sneers.
Lobelia makes an outraged noise, stepping forwards with her parasol raised and it's clear that she means to strike Bluebell with it. His wife doesn't move, doesn't even flinch, and Fili catches the blow in one hand before it can land, squeezing the flimsy thing so hard it creaks even as the thought of Bluebell's trust in him fills him with warmth that has nothing to do with the summer day. He wrenches the parasol away from Lobelia with grin that is more a snarl and snaps it over his knee, discarding the pieces at his feet. It's showy and more than a little bit ridiculous, but the sneering hobbit takes a fearful step back.
"I wouldn't," Kili says conversationally, "that's my future queen. My brother gets very protective, he challenged a dwarf back home just because he looked at her in a way Fili didn't like."
One time, Fili thinks, one time he lost his temper with the way the Iron Hills War Master was glaring at Bluebell. Nothing came of it, Bluebell even healed the arrogant bastard's wounds after Fili was done playing with him. Kili won't let it lie, however, and his teasing has built Fili a bit of a reputation for protectiveness in Erebor over the winter.
"What?" The final hobbit demands. "Explain yourself, sir."
"Hello, Fortinbras," Bluebell smiles at this one, so either she likes him or he's too important to upset. "I'd like to introduce Kili, son of Dis," his brother bows, "and his older brother Fili, Crown Prince of Erebor and my husband." Fili also bows as the other two hobbits gape. Hamfast seems to have vanished. "Fili, Kili, my cousin, Thain Fortinbras II."
She has deliberately, Fili notes, not introduced Otho and Lobelia. He suspects there is some hobbit significance to that when she links her arm through his and leads him towards the smial. Kili's lips quirk behind his beard (which finally started to come in over winter) as he settles one step behind and just to their left as he would were that at an official function. He suspects his brother is enjoying this.
"I'm afraid we don't have much to offer you, Fortinbras," she says as she approaches her cousin, "but we do have business to discuss with you. Now is as good a time as any, since you're here."
"Miss Bluebell?" Another voice cuts in and they turn to see Hamfast Gamgee and a pretty hobbit lass, both carrying baskets. "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of asking my Bell to throw together a few baskets. It's simple fare."
"But better than anything we'll have had on the road," she smiles.
"You have our thanks," Fili adds, making a mental note to ensure these two are properly reimbursed. "Shall we?" He asks.
Hamfast, his wife, and the Thain (which Fili understands is roughly the equivalent of a steward as Gondor has) all follow Fili, his brother and Bluebell into the smial. Bluebell holds her regal bearing until the door is closed and she's in the parlour, then she throws her hands in the air and spins with the brightest of smiles.
"I've wanted to do that for years!" She crows. "Oh, Fili, you were perfect." Then she looks at her faithful gardener. "I thought the wedding wasn't for another two weeks?" She says. "Bell isn't-?"
"No," the other woman says firmly. "But at the beginning of winter we had the oddest dream. The Lady came to us and said we had to get ready to journey to our new home."
Fortinbras makes a noise of irritation.
"Lots of other dreamed it too!" Hamfast exclaims.
"She said She would help," Fili says to his wife. He keeps his voice soft and his wife nods her agreement.
"You may as well both stay," Bluebell addresses the Gamgees. "We have quite the tale for all of you."
The story of the quest and its outcome is not a short one, even heavily edited to avoid topics (like the trolls) which have no real relevance to the point they are trying to make. By the time they're done, with Kili filling in many of the parts they missed, darkness has fallen, and Bluebell's distant cousin is staring thoughtfully into the fire.
"This dream Mr Gamgee mentioned," he says slowly. "Somewhere in the region of twenty families between here and Tookborough claim to have had the same. The Master of Buckland says he has a dozen of his own and the Mayor of Michael Delving has five from the surrounding area. Most of them are from long established farming families, though there's a few seamstresses, a teacher, half a dozen healers and a couple of midwives. Including my only daughter."
"Azalea?" Bluebell sounds surprised. "I didn't think she was of age."
"Turned thirty-three a month ago," the hobbit sighs. "I don't suppose I could persuade you not to gather those who were invited by the Lady?"
"You're ignoring how these things work," Bluebell shakes her head. "Now that we're here I would imagine that those Yavanna chose to help heal the land around Erebor and build a new colony will begin to feel the Draw."
"Would you rather they travel with the safety offered by a caravan of dwarven warriors," Fili says pointedly, "or would you have them make their way to the mountain alone and unprotected? From what I understand the Draw Bluebell speaks of is irresistible."
"It's maybe forty families," Bluebell adds, "we lost more than that during the Fell Winter."
"And we're still recovering!" Her cousin argues.
"Looks to me like you're thriving," Kili cuts in. He's been stood looking out of the window, open in the warmth of summer. At intervals during the afternoon they have been able to clearly hear the laughter of children during the occasional silence, and even now the sound of distant fiddles reaches them.
"I agree," Fili says. "How long can this continue until you don't have anywhere to build new homes? Or you have to sacrifice farmland you can't afford to lose to house your families? Bluebell told us a lot about the Shire while we travelled. You'll have to expand soon, in the next generation or so. Where will you go? The decision will very likely fall to you, or your son, the loss of forty families to the new colony will ease that burden, and there will be plenty of space for more to join us should they decide to." Fili has already discussed it with Lord Elrond, who has agreed to help any hobbits who come his way reach Mirkwood safely, after that it will fall to Thranduil and even he has agreed to aid them, in exchange for the hobbits help healing the damage done to the Greenwood.
"It isn't something we've discussed," Fortinbras splutters.
"My wife has," is the simple reply. "This is a solution, one your Maker, and mine, have worked to make possible. Why turn from it?"
"Your people betrayed ours once!" Fortinbras shouts. "You said it yourself, what's to stop it from happening again?"
"It won't," Bluebell cries in frustration. "Do you really think Fili and I would have given up all we have if we thought for a second it would?" She glances at Fili and he nods, he will back whatever decision she makes. She has warned him on the way here that their greatest stumbling block would be this hobbit. "They're coming with us, Fortinbras. Hamfast, Bell and all the others. You can't stop it. Telling you that they would be coming with us was a courtesy. We won't stop anyone who wants to leave, and we won't force anyone who doesn't." The older hobbit slumps.
"My daughter?" He asks.
"I'll watch over her myself," Bluebell promises. "We're all tired," she adds, "and it's been a long journey. There is much still to discuss, but perhaps that should wait until we've rested. We have time."
"I agree," he gets to his feet and nods to each of them. "Goodnight, Bluebell, my lords."
The following morning Fili rises to the smell of bacon and sausages cooking and no sign at all of his wife. Bluebell should still be in bed, her night was as late as his, but it seems the lure of her much-missed kitchen has proved too much. He stumbles into the kitchen, hair in complete disarray and trousers tugged on with little thought to whether they might have company beyond his brother and their guards.
"What are you doing out of bed?" He grumbles, scratching absently at his chest.
"I just asked her the same thing," Kili groans. "I think someone snuck in and replaced Bluebell in the night."
"Don't be silly," Bluebell chirrups from the stove.
Her curls are pulled back in a similar style to the one worn by the shrill hobbit the previous day, although she has left her braids free as is her habit. Her dwarven made clothes are gone. Instead she wears a full skirt and matching bodice of pale blue with a crisp white blouse of fine cotton. The fullness of the skirt is sign enough of ample petticoats and it's jarring to see the Bluebell he met rather than the one he has come to know.
"What's going on?" He asks.
"Our princess is beginning her campaign," Freya comments. "Apparently, this requires her to be a 'proper hobbit'. I didn't realise that involved quite so many frills and flounces."
"Nor did I," he mutters darkly, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table.
"You'll need to come with me," she tells him. "I don't need the others, but we do need to go to the market and be seen before Lobelia and Fortinbras can get started on their own rumours."
"You're not getting me dressed up like your cousin," he scoffs. She raises an eyebrow at him as she plunks a plate of meat and eggs in front of him.
"Of course not," she pulls a face and the proper hobbit slips away with it. "You'd look ridiculous. You're a dwarf, dearest, just put on whatever's cleanest and least travel worn. Let me handle the rest."
"You're on your own, nadad," Kili grins around a mouthful of bacon. "I'm going back to bed."
"Traitor," he grumbles.
Within an hour Fili has been dressed, his hair combed and rebraided and several cups of coffee have been poured down his throat. Bluebell has located a parasol and lacy shawl from somewhere and a basket which is nearly as big as she is that she hands to him. She pauses before they leave to check her hair in a mirror near the door and take a deep breath. Her face smooths, a pleasant half smile appears on her lips, and she leads him out of the door down a half-remembered path into the local town.
Thus, begins her campaign. She wanders around the stalls, selecting produce with a keen eye as she greets many of the hobbits by name and takes a moment to introduce her 'darling husband'. Fili makes a point of greeting them politely, although he is slightly more aloof than he used to be. Bluebell doesn't call him on it, so he assumes that she's content. Neither of them is quite who they once were before they joined with the mountain.
"The braids?" He turns to look at his tiny wife while she talks to an elderly hobbit. "Why no, dear, they aren't at all savage. Quite sensible if you ask me. They all have a meaning. And Fili has been so good as to follow our custom," she shows her ring to the hobbit who coos over the hair that has been carefully woven into the mount behind thinly cut, clear crystal. "Dwarves are all so particular about their hair, something to do with their Maker, it just isn't done to cut it, but Fili did for me."
"That's love, I suppose," the hobbit mutters and continues on.
"Miserable old bat," Bluebell mutters as they continue, and he laughs.
She, quite pointedly, ignores a few of the hobbits, including the odious Lobelia, and quietly drops hints that anyone who was visited by their Lady in early winter is quite welcome to come and call to discuss the matter. By the time they leave the market his arm aches from the unfamiliar weight of the basket. It is so full of her purchases (and there is more, still, to be delivered) that he would wonder where she intends to put it all. He knows, however, that she has ample room for this and more, and that it will only last a few days at most.
After a week he can only marvel at the effectiveness of the hobbit gossip mill after no less than fifty separate hobbits come to call about the matter of relocation.
A.N: All magic comes with a price, I've said it before but it needs to be said again. Fili and Bluebell performed a miracle, it couldn't happen without something in return. It would be meaningless without it.