Thanks for sticking it out and checking out chapter 2! Again i have no idea what I'm doing but it's a nice escape. Obviously this will differ from canon and the timelines are a bit off I'm not the best with those. I have extended dwarven lifespans a bit because...well i wanted to.

Any thoughts or comments are much appreciated! Enjoy!

"Raise the gates!"

The deep resonate tones of the carnyx sounded and echoed through the area, a guard upon the wall of the lower keep blowing the long horn.

Elinor sighed into the icy air and pulled her hood and partial face covering off of her head, relief loosening the tension throughout her body. She stood by the gates and watched as the rest of the carts rolled in, the company of their rangers all starting to disperse. The cool air was almost jarring against her skin and scalp and she reached a hand up to lightly scratch at the scarred flesh that was pulled taut from the frigid temperatures. Her gloved fingers tightened on the handle of her bow, the month-long journey across the wastes leaving all in the company feeling a little ripe. She had to resist digging into her hair, a mane of flaming locks that graced almost her whole head.

They had lost one of their companions to a frost drake on their return journey while wandering on a hunt. No matter how many times she had seen death, it was always felt deeply. He was a younger tribesman who had fought valiantly against the drake but ultimately succumbed to his injuries before they took down the vile serpent.

The thing about frost drakes was that the damnable things blended in with the terrain. Elinor considered herself an admirable archer but even she had a hard time spotting it on the ridge. The steady snowfall and wind didn't help with visibility either.

A hand clapped onto her shoulder and Elinor looked up into the eyes of a fellow warrior, one of her closest friends. Agatha Battle-Born was a descendant of the Frost people who first settled with them all those years ago. She was a mature woman just past her thirtieth year and a fine warrior that Elinor counted lucky to have with her on these excursions. She had an athletic build from years of training and fighting, striking icy blue eyes under sharp brows. Her sun spun hair fashioned in the style of her people, pulled into several tight braids on the top of her head before falling in a wild cascade.

"You did well out there, little sister", Agatha stated proudly, hanging her steel war axe from her belt, "I'll have Valuki fashion some nice blades out of that drakes teeth and a new quiver for you out of the leather".

Elinor chuckled as she smiled warmly at her friend.

"You and Hadvar can use the other bones as you wish. Come!", she said and she started to steer them up towards the great hall, "Let us drink to our fallen".

Agatha chuckled and hoisted her shield up and wrapped an arm around Elinor's shoulders as they strolled a short distance before a voice stopped them.

"And where do you think you're both off to smelling like the back side of a troll?"

They both sighed and turned to find their friends, Hadvar and Faylen, standing behind them. Arms crossed and amused expressions on their faces, they made quite a pair. An unusual partnership to be sure but none remarked upon the she-elf and her wild man.

Hadvar Stone-Fist was a great big bear of a man in his middle years with his own short mane of fiery hair and mischievous blue eyes. It was liberally streaked with silver and his strong face had seamed over the years around his eyes and his bearded mouth. He was deadly with his massive battle axe and was always eager for a fight.

Faylen herself was a tall slender woman, as most elves tended to be, with flowing dark hair and sad deep blue eyes with slanted brows. She was one of the chief healers in the healing halls, accompanying them to purchase the more exotic herbs needed for medicinal uses. Her hair was twisted up into a tail, small braids woven by Elinor and Agatha interspersed in the shining locks. Her wide full lips pulled over her teeth in amusement as she glanced at Hadvar.

Elinor always adored that they let her braid their hair, placing a family bead in one of their plaits. Both of the other females understanding it symbolized how much they meant to her. Hadvar never was one for braids but he wore a cuff Elinor had commissioned from the leather worker with her family crest on it.

Even though they were from different races, they were her family.

"You know that elven harpy cook would rather cut her ears off than let you two in the hall like that. You look like you've been rolling in pig shit", Hadvar gruffed, earning a smack on the head from his mate.

Elinor sighed before shrugging and looking up at Agatha, her brow cocked in question.

Agatha huffed in irritation, "I just had a bath".

Faylen burst out laughing, "That was a fortnight ago at the border town".

"It still counts", Agatha grumbled lowly as they all turned their feet toward one of the communal baths on the second level of Hammerdeep.

Elinor leaned into her side before offering, "I'll help you with your hair".

They chatted as they moved toward their destination but an errand boy caught her attention.

"Beggin' your pardon, mistress", the young boy mumbled, "But your father requested to see you after you've settled".

Elinor's brow wrinkled slightly before nodding in ascent to which he bowed and left them. She could feel eyes on her and glanced back up to see the questioning stares of her companions. She shrugged before she continued on to the baths.

A short while later, they were all in one of the bathing halls. The chamber was a cavernous space with several pools filled with steaming water, the air warm and thick with humidity. Clothes discarded and set to the side to be either cleaned or disposed of, personal items and weapons set aside. They were all submerged in one of the pools, the hot water soothing their bones. Faylen was reclined against the side of the pool, the gently lit room pulling soft yawns from her as she let her dark head rest against the stone. Agatha sat further away, inspecting her hands as she scrubbed while Elinor stood behind her.

Nudity was not something that anyone had any qualms about here. Elinor had been raised here and she learned from an early age that the Northern people were as unbothered about nudity as most people were about putting a coat on for cold weather. They didn't care if males and females were naked in the baths together since they had a very practical mindset.

Baths are for getting clean. It's cold...so get wet, wash fast, and get out. But that didn't mean they weren't above showing off, whether it was displaying an appealing form or comparing scars or tattoos. Elinor herself had scars scattered across her body over the decades along with runes of the northern tribe inked into a band around her left upper arm.

Like most dwarves, Elinor only came to chest height when next to her friends. So this was the perfect height for her to help with washing Agatha's hair. When they were sitting in the bath, the water came almost to their necks so Elinor had to stand most of the time anyway unless she wanted to drown.

Hadvar sat at Faylen's feet, gently washing a dainty foot that was resting on his thigh. He was focused completely on the task of cleaning his she-elf.

"How much do you think that caribou weighed?", he gruffed, his soapy fingers poking in between toes.

Elinor hummed as she lathered Agatha's hair, "Twenty five stone maybe".

"It was a good kill. I can't wait to eat a stew from the meat", he said, a devious glint in his eyes, pulling his mate's foot, "I can't wait to eat something else later too".

Elinor blushed while Agatha rolled her eyes, scrubbing a soapy cloth briskly over her legs before pulling away to submerge herself under the water.

She had already taken her braids down and set her Dwarven beads in a bowl on one of the benches, her dalvinite earrings still dangling from her earlobes. Her silver family bead, displaying a pair of crossed axes, was made into a cuff for her right ear. Family beads were customarily worn on a right side braid but with the scarring, she just hadn't enough hair on that side. A mixture of other dalvinite beads, the metal embedded with emeralds or left plain. Another bead with a gold bow on it displaying her prowess as an archer. A few dragon bone beads, carved with dwarven runes asking for Mahal's protection.

Her wet hair was swept back away from her face as she scrubbed the soap over her body. She'd kept the marred side of her head shaved in a northern style and she would need Agatha's help to crop it back down. Her fingers played absently with the short strands. She could hear Faylen and Hadvar talking quietly, Agatha silently trying to drown herself in hopes of never having to bathe ever again, and Elinor wondered.

She'd felt restless as of late. The persistent feeling that….something was about to happen. Good or bad she couldn't tell but...she felt it all the same.

She had been here for as long as she could remember, and helped build their city. Made lifelong friends, seen many of them die either from the wilds or old age. She had known Hadvar and Agatha for only a couple decades really. Faylen and another group of Silvan elves from Greenwood and even Rivendell had crossed the wastes after they'd settled. Elinor loved her friends. Considered them the siblings she never had, even.

But she felt like she was being pulled….away. And that left the heavy feeling of unease to settle in her.

"Are you in pain, mellon?"

Elinor was snatched from her thoughts to see them all staring at her, various degrees of concern written on their faces. She belatedly realized that she had been absently scratching her upper arm, the scarred flesh now red and angry. Her fingers immediately stilled but her skin still felt too tight, the time on the road making her scars overly dry and irritated.

Bloody dragonfire.

"No….. just uncomfortable".

Hadvar grunted and rose from the pool while Faylen and Agatha made their way over to her. He walked over to a small cabinet by the wall that housed different salves and ointments. He pulled a jar of soothing ointment out and handed it to Faylen before going to the far side of the bath to clean himself.

Soon enough, gentle hands massaged the irritated flesh of her right arm and shoulder and ribs. Relief coursed through her as their hands moved over her. The scarred skin no longer pulled as painfully and the warm water eased the soreness. Elinor rubbed some on the right side and back of her neck, her fingers running over the scarred side of her scalp and cheek. She dipped her fingers back into the jar before gently applying the lotion to her right ear. Elves had explained the sensitivity of ears to the Northmen long ago and they understood how intimate it was to touch a dwarf's ears or hair.

Elinor had finished cleaning and dressed in the clothes brought to them, tying her wet hair back with a leather string and putting her beads and ear cuffs in her pocket. Dressed in simple breeches and a shirt, she slipped her boots on and pulled her black cloak around her. She filled an ewer with fresh water for her quarters to carry along.

She stepped out of the chamber, promising to meet her friends in the great hall in the morn before heading towards her quarters. She had a small home on the upper level of the interior, dwelling in the mountain like most dwarves tended to. A fair number of the men and elves had made residential homes outside of the mountain in the ruins that had been restored. A great many that didn't want to be inside the mountain had carved out homes into the mountain face along the base or built lumber homes, a happy compromise that many took advantage of in their ever growing populace. In the event of any type of attack, everyone had a way of getting inside the mountain for shelter from danger.

In the dark months, occasional terror was the only light brought on by winged twilight. Frost drakes would swoop in to do whatever damage they could in hopes of getting fresh meat from the citizens or livestock they managed to slaughter.

Torches flickered in the corridors as she made her way, the few people she encountered inclining their heads as she passed. The carved stone of this fortress was bright given its dark history. The walls decorated with tapestries or paintings, the occasional shield was hung as well. Elinor was already thinking of a small cask of wine she'd left tucked away in her rooms when she came upon her door, pulling a thick key out of her bag.

Unlike the corridors the space was dark and cold, the air stale from her absence. The scents of the rushes and wreaths having since faded. She moved into the room, propping her bow and quiver against the hall tree before continuing, hanging her sword belt on one of the pegs. She gathered a few logs of wood to start a fire in the hearth and lit candles on the mantle and on a few candelabras in the room. The hearth was in the right corner of the room, the small flames now casting dancing glimmers in the smooth stone floors. A couple of worn low chairs were situated in front of the hearth, a well handled lute sat in one of the seats.

A large bookcase placed to the right of it all, the shelves were crammed with books and scrolls. Copies of elvish books, dwarven books, some were tales from the Dale folk or of Durin. Elinor had a decent education and knew etiquettes from many of Middle Earth's cultures, was fair fluent in a few languages. She had a pleasing little collection that she'd gathered herself over the decades. All of this her father had pushed for her to learn…for what she couldn't fathom but more likely than not an elder council position. A lot of the people in Hammerdeep were educated, though a lot of the men from any race had that innate sense of masculine gruffness and balked at a formal scholar's education. Some of the Northern women too.

Along the opposite wall, Elinor had placed a desk with a single wooden chair. The surface was littered with parchments and quills, a bottle of ink sat off to the side. A small cabinet sat to the side, holding a few goblets for water or wine with a small wash basin beside it. She placed the ewer of water in the basin for later.

Elinor shrugged off her cloak and draped it over one of the low chairs before walking through the wide doorway next to the hearth. A bed was in the middle of the room, covered in rough linens and furs with a few feather pillows. A smaller fireplace was to the right of the doorframe. It shared a central fluke with the main room, like many of the mountain dwellings. Against the left wall was a large wooden wardrobe, housing her various shirts, breeches, and underthings. Even a few simple dresses for special occasions. Not that she wore them, mind you. But with the limited option of black, grey, brown, or red on color choices for one's clothes she couldn't quite bring herself to dispose of the dresses. They were lovely shades of blues or deep greens that her father had made for her from imported fabrics for her namedays. A lovely hammered dulcimer sat against beside her wardrobe, another treasured gift from her father brought back from across the plains. The strings perfectly tuned and the surface well taken care of.

Another small cabinet set against the right wall, housing drying cloths, a change of bed linens, and a few more small blankets. A rack for her bow was mounted on the wall above a narrow workbench, various wooden shafts, tools, and fletching scattered about. A number of candles were on the surface to help save her eyes as she worked. A tall round basket was placed aside the workplace, holding a number of finished arrows.

She set a fire going in this hearth as well, the chill of the stone seeping through her boots.

Elinor sat on the low chest at the end of the bed and sighed, revisiting her earlier thoughts of restlessness as she combed her hair. It wasn't that she was bored in any way with her life, even if it was repetitive and somewhat isolated. She had her father and her friends. She knew eventually Hadvar and Agatha would pass into the timeless halls, as all men do, but it would be a mournful time of loss all the same. And Faylen...her one steadfast friend….after the passing of her chosen, she would fade and go to the Halls of Mandos. She would never sail to Valinor without him and if Hadvar passed before her, she would fade before she even made it to the grey harbor. Elves, like dwarves, only loved once in their lifetime.

There was a fair number of males available but Elinor had never felt the pull of her One. For some people, like her parents, it was instantaneous. For others, it was a pull that was realized over time. Neither instances had ever occurred to her, whether she'd been seeking them or not and she was not one to take a companion temporarily.

Elinor had awakened many a night with a racing heart, the feeling of strong arms around her that left her almost bereft. She vaguely remembered dark hair and stormy eyes and a feeling of longing but it always drifted away from her as consciousness took over. The ghost of the stranger lingering in Elinor's thoughts.

The thought made her chest tighten with sadness and yet….she couldn't help but feel that there was a hole inside her already. One that had been there for a long time but whereas it had been ignored before, it was more pronounced now.

And Elinor didn't know why.

With a sigh, she hefted her weary body up and piled more logs onto the fires in both hearths. Assured that her quarters would be warmer when she returned, Elinor pushed her thoughts aside and left to seek out her father.