Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 11)

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst and dirty humor.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is based on the books, NOT the movies.

More notes: This chapter has still not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.

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"Of Dogs and Kings"

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Gimli finally left the desolate battlefield and was past the River Running, making his way to RavenHill by the time the red sun had finally set. Pausing for a moment in a flat rocky area near some boulders at the foot of the Mountain he looked back the way he had come, in the sad valley below lights seem to dance amongst the many bodies like strange fireflies. Many of the tired healers now holding lamps to light their way as they searched through the bodies, but the weak cries and soft moans of the injured and dieing were now few and steadily fading, leaving only the whispering of the wind. On the far end of the valley, the two massive pit fires where they burned the many orc and goblin bodies glowed ominously in the night like two gateways to some fiery neither world as the cloying scent of death mixed with the smell of charred flesh upon the breeze.

With a long final look Gimli then turned to sadly take off the shredded and soiled remains of his red shirt, seeing no reason to continue to wear the now useless material, no matter how sentimental it had become to him. He had just cast it aside when he sensed movement behind him. Still jumpy from the previous battle he whirled around in a fighting stance, a hand going automatically for one of his weapons that clinked on his thick belt, ready for an attack.

But what greeted his eyes wasn't a goblin or warg, but a scruffy looking dog that jumped back in fright at his sudden movement. The skittish animal seemed to be lost as it watched him nervously, it's tail tucked between it's legs, it's ears down, no doubt a survivor from the destroyed Lake Town by its dirty and singed brown fur.

As Gimli dropped his stance and ran a hand through his hair with a snort, he watched the medium sized dog timidly come towards him with its body low to the ground, it's tail down, but wagging. For a moment he thought about the two massive dogs that one of the wagon drivers had set upon him on that lonely road towards Bree. How he had killed both of the vicious beasts with nothing but his fists, sending them flying, feeling nothing for them. But looking at this poor scruffy creature and how it all but crawled to him before rolling over and showing it's undefended belly at his feet, it was almost hard for Gimli to believe that this animal and those that had attack him shared a common ancestry.

With a smile on his dirty and short-bearded face, Gimli crouched down and rubbed the dog's cream colored belly. He now saw that the dog was defiantly a "he".

"Are you lost, lad?" Gimli asked the dog as he scratched it's belly, its tail thumping the ground in answer. With the exception of his fear of horses, Gimli had always liked animals and had had several dogs before. Like Brastiff, who was a big red wolfhound that had been a beloved family pet when he was a young child, then later there had been others like floppy-eared Onry, silly Eleg and tired old Gil-galad (who Gloin had named on a bet).

With a wistful sigh at those fond and long ago memories, he gave the dog a final pat before standing up to continue his journey. The dog immediately rolling over and jumping to his feet to join him, causing Gimli to stop and turn back to the dog, its tail now up and wagging.

"Sorry lad, but you've got to find your own way now," he said with a sad shake, pointing away from him. The dog turned it's head to see what he was pointing at before looking back, it's mouth now open and panting, almost seeming to smile up at him. Gimli however was not smiling as he narrowed his eyes at the animal, he had no time to take care of a dog, having enough problems as is was without an animal underfoot to deal with. When he began walking again the dog once again moved to follow, annoyed now he settled for yelling at the animal this time.

Said dog however, only perk it's ears and cock it's head this way and that as it watched the Dwarf make sharp motions with his hands while yelling, "Shoo! Go on now, Shoo!" and "Sit! Stay! No! Don't follow me ya bloody pest!" The brown dog was quite entertained by this point before the young Dwarf finally gave up and simply walked away grumbling under his breath. The dog happily followed while Gimli, not having the heart to kick it away or throw anything, ignored his unwanted companion in hopes that the dog would lose interest and wander off.

He walked through the evening landscape, his thick arms now crossed over his bare chest to stave off the cold bite in the air, his thick dark copper-hair hung lose down his broad muscular back, protecting it from the cold. Listening to the night around him, his heavy footsteps, the padding of the dog that followed and the moan of the wind seemed to fill his ears as his dark adapted eyes easily navigating the way. Every now and then passing other beings, mostly Men who held torches to light their way and other Dwarves. The Wood Elves seemed to be keeping mainly to their own camp as the three armies regrouped and took stock of their men and resources.

As he continued his journey he couldn't deny that there was something comforting about the four-legged presence behind him, though he would never admit it out loud. Yet he couldn't deny, it was nice not to be alone.

Following old Vestri's and Raven's directions he came near the main camp of Dain's army. The rest of the army was either in the Mountain or still helping out in the valley below. Coming around the outer perimeter of the large camp, he openly watched the battle hardened warriors move about the many fires, talking or silently repairing their damaged armor and weapons.

His mother had been an honored warrior and soldier in Nain's army before she and his father had moved to Ered Luin after the Great War. With a sad smile Gimli remembered how he and his brother Nin would daydream of becoming soldiers for some noble Lord and becoming honored warriors, just like their mother. But that was before the hard times, when things were good and anything seemed possible then, the world not quite so ugly. Still though… it had been fun to dream, he thought to himself as he rubbed at his arms for warmth.

As he made his way along the outskirts of the organized camp he caught sight of a shirtless warrior, clad only in dark sweat stained hose with an intricate tattoo of stylized runes in blue ink running down his arms. His armor and the rest of his gear sitting in a neat pile by his bedroll as he fastidiously brushed the dappled gray coat of one of the three thick necked Mountain-ponies that chewed at a clump of hay someone had set out for them. Not far away two dark-haired and also shirtless warriors wrestled as a couple of their friends cheered them on and placed bets as to who would win. Not far from them, next to one of the fires was a rather cankerous looking fellow with braided strawberry-red hair, banging the notches out of a damaged axe on a portable forge.

Many of the other soldiers of the camp that were not busy going about their duties or running errands, idly talked and laughed with one another. While some sat alone with their own thoughts, while others carved at a bit of wood or were intently reading a book or letter, and many others simply slept on their bedrolls.

While Gimli watched the soldiers with interest, only a few acknowledged him as he past by, including two friendly soldiers on guard duty as they smoked from simple clay pipes. The other warriors that did notice him only gave a brief glance or nod before going back to whatever they had been doing. Seeing only a scruffy young Dwarf, clearly not even past his first hundred years.

With a final glance over his shoulder Gimli left the camp of Dain's army behind and continued to the much smaller camp of 'Wonderers' in the near distance. As he walked up the incline, a cold gust tugged at his loose hair as his stained boots scraped the hard dry earth as he climbed. It was some time later that he finally saw the old watch-post that Master Vestri and Lady Rin had directed him to. Coming closer he could hear deep voices talking and saw three small campfires with various groups of Dwarves gathered around them. The largest of which was directly behind the old watch-post, backlighting the small stone structure and making it look ominous, the other smaller campfires spread out nearby.

Leaning in the dark entrance of the old stone post was a rangy looking Dwarf clad in dark clothes and light leather armor, gazing off into the darkness at the other various army camps below. The fires in the distance looking like strange orange stars that had fallen to earth, the true stars above sparkling in their indigo sea of night as the distant sounds of Men singing floated up to them on the chill breeze.

The Dwarf was clearly daydreaming as he twirled one of the many intricate beaded braids that made up his long dark hair around his finger. As Gimli drew closer, the dark haired Dwarf finally sensed him and turned his head. It was then that Gimli saw that this Dwarf was around his own age as a large pair of mismatched colored eyes alighted on him, one shinny black and the other a stunning amber. Gimli also noticed that the Dwarf wore a light red scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and face, hiding his mouth and nose, leaving only his striking and expressive eyes to view. As Gimli stepped out of the darkness he gave the Dwarf a greeting as he tucked some annoying copper strands back behind his ear.

The Dwarf did not speak, but gave him a silent greeting in return, glancing at the panting dog at Gimli's heel. It was then that Gimli figured that the strange scarf the Dwarf wore probably covered up some past injury or birth defect that most likely rendered him mute as well. Finally coming to a stop before the entrance of the dark watch-post, Gimli gave a polite bow and properly introduced himself.

"Gimli, son of Gloin. At your service," The silent dark-haired Dwarf stood up fully and gave Gimli an answering bow before introducing himself, signing with his hands in Iglishmek (1.).

"Draupnir, son of Dvalin. At yours." Gimli smiled then decided to see if who he sought was amongst those gathered here.

"Do you know if Master Lofar, the healer is here?" Gimli signed. Like all Dwarves, Gimli could switch to Iglishmek without skipping a beat.

As he signed, he caught movement from the dark depths of the small structure. Taking a quick glance over the mute Dwarf's shoulder, he saw another Dwarf sitting in the cramped space within. The other was clearly a brother of the first, having the same dark hair and rangy build, he was also clad in the same type of dark clothes and light leather armor. He sat on the dusty ground of the post intently sharpening a collection of wicked looking throwing knives. Looking back at Draupnir, Gimli quickly surmised that knives where most likely his weapons of choice as well, seeing no other weapons on him aside from the large Dwarven knife on his belt. No doubt his throwing knives where hidden all over his person and within easy reach.

The mismatched eyed Draupnir nodded his head at his question and pointed a hand to the farthest of the three fires. "He be with that stuck-up bunch over at the third fire, there," he signed, his narrowed eyes and the sharp motions of his expressive hands speaking of an obvious dislike. Gimli took note of this then nodded his thanks before he moved around the structure.

The first of the three fire's had been built at the back of the stone structure, the ancient watch-post acting as a wind break and giving a small measure of security. Over the fire hung a tea-pot and a large cooking kettle, his nose and the following rumble of his stomach telling him it was some type of stew cooking as he watched one of the Dwarves get up to stir and add some spices to it. It was here that the largest group had gathered, they seemed a cheerful bunch, most being simple working folk or Wonderers like himself. It was here that he saw a husky brown-haired Dwarf, who looked to be from one of the StiffBeard clans, crouched before the fire, dramatically motioning with his arms and hands as he wove a story to those gathered. Especially to an entranced looking Dwarven teen sitting nearby, who could be no more then forty nine at the most. Like many of the others he was clad in simple working clothes that had seen better days, along with a long brick-red stocking cap on his dark-haired head, most of the other Dwarves around the fire either quietly talked with one another or were half listening to the story.

"And they took the strange Elf's invitation and following the arrogant creature through those dark woods. On and on they went… Until they reached a strange hut and there they greeted the Elf's equally strange wife. Please sup with us, they invited. And so they agreed, but after they had sat down… do you know what the strange Elf and his equally strange wife served them for dinner?" the storyteller asked dramatically, the fire casting sinister shadows on his round face, his stiff brown beard un-braided.

"Have you any idea… what terrible thing be on the menu that night in those dark woods? What the Elves had all been hunting since settling in that valley? What they had been eatin' that entire time?" He asked quietly, drawing it out, his brown eyes glittering as the young Dwarf unconsciously leaned forward with wide eyes, mouth open, breathlessly awaiting the answer.

The spellbound teen didn't notice as another Dwarf (who was his uncle) quietly crept up behind him, hands at the ready.

Gimli gave an internal chuckle, a knowing smile on his lips as he slowly walked by; he knew what was going to happen. Having fallen for this once himself and seeing it done a few times in the past when someone was telling this story.

"Dwarf!" The storyteller suddenly shouted, lunging forward making the young Dwarf jump in surprise then give a loud high pitched yell of fright when his uncle behind him suddenly yanked his stocking cap down over the youngster's face.

Those around the fire erupted with deep laughter as the young Dwarf, getting over his surprise, glared murderously at everyone; especially his snickering uncle behind him as he fussidly fixed his hair before placing the brick-red stocking cap back on his head again.

"Not funny!" he growled irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. This of course only made those around him snicker more as they watched a deep blush rise to the young Dwarf's cheeks. "Stupid story anyway!" He grumbled under his breath as he tried to cover up his embarrassment.

"Who said it was just a story (2.)?" The storyteller said in total seriousness all of a sudden, stopping and giving the youngster an intense look and for a moment all laughter and talking around the fire ceased. The young Dwarf paused and gave an unconscious gulp at the sudden uncomfortable silence as his light-brown eyes grew wide. It was just a story… right?

But it was then that he saw the storyteller waggle a thick eyebrow at him as a smirk curled the ends of his lips. The teen definitely knew then that he was being messed with again as he heard the chuckling start up around him again.

"Shut your face, Notch!" He growled, realizing he had been thoroughly fooled twice now before giving the now laughing storyteller a harsh shove. Causing Notch and the others around the fire to dissolve into total laughter again as the young Dwarf glared at all those around the fire as he pouted, even after his uncle gave him a comforting ruffle of his hair and a bump with his shoulder.

Gimli just shook his head in amusement as he left the group behind and made his way to the farthest fire, quickly skirting the edges of another group gathered around a smaller fire, not really paying them much attention. When he finally reached the furthest fire, he saw that there were seven Dwarves gathered around a modest fire quietly talking or eating, and amongst them he spotted the Dwarven healer he was looking for.

Sitting cross-legged by himself was a Dwarf with a thin build and a rather pale complexion with many brass rings braided into his thick honey-colored hair, quietly dosing by the fire. His arms were folded as his chin rested on his chest, his green cloak with it's silver trim around his shoulders. On the ground next to him sat a heavy leather pack of supplies, a black stained and spiked war hammer like old Vestri's was on his thick belt, his clothes still liberally stained with blood.

Except for the dosing healer, the other Dwarves around the fire all looked to be of the same clan and were probably family by their dark hair and thick features, all of them male. Gimli couldn't help but notice that they were all well dressed, their stained clothes and tooled armor was of particularly high quality and by the silver rings and chains that some wore openly it was clear that they were wealthy. The eldest and longest bearded of the group even wore a rich velvet cloak the color of dark coffee about his armored shoulders as he smoked from a delicately carved ivory pipe.

No doubt they were either from one of the higher noble families in the Iron Hills or one of the wealthier clans of merchants or craftsmen. Either way it was clear that these Dwarves were no 'Wonderers' or simple 'tag-a-longs", having come at Thorin's call for help and joining Dain's army for their own reasons. Why they had decided to camp here and not next to the main camp of Dain's army or with the army's supply wagons as most of the other Wonderers and tag-a-longs had, Gimli could not say.

He carefully stepped forward, coming around to the dosing healer, keeping his posture open, watching as the others around the fire took note of his prescience. While very few outside races knew Khuzdul or the silent language of Iglishmek, even fewer still could read the complex and subtle signs of Dwarven body language.

Except for a few that tracked the copper-haired outsider with their dark-eyes and the others that gave him a critical once-over before dismissing him altogether, the group remained quiet and unwelcoming.

Gimli felt irked at their dismissal of him, these snobs clearly thinking him unworthy to join them. But not having been invited or welcomed to join their small camp, he stopping short of the warm circle of light and those gathered around it. Though his fellow Dwarves could see him perfectly well, a Man would probably have mistaken him for some dark creature of the night, hanging back in fear of the fire, his large dark-adapted eyes glowing eerily in the night.

The dog that had been accompanying him kept it's distance from the group, it's tail tucked between it's legs as it paced the outskirts of the camp, apparently also sensing the hostility of this group.

"Master Lofar?" He asked respectfully from behind the dosing healer. At his words one of the healer's slate-gray eyes cracked open in irritation from beneath a bushy eyebrow before Lofar finally opened his other eye and slowly turned and look up at him. The healer gave him a critical once over with practiced eyes that quickly assessed the new-comer's injuries. Still not getting a reply Gimli continued on, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the healer's silent scrutiny.

"Forgive my intrusion," He began again, taking a step closer. "Master Vestri told me to see you about--"

"Sit down and shut up!" the older Dwarf suddenly snapped, causing Gimli to blink in surprise and promptly close his mouth with a snap. With a tired grumble the healer uncrossed his arms and sat up, reaching up he grabbed Gimli by the arm and yanked him forward and into the warm light of the fire next to him.

The healer then made Gimli kneel down and gave him another critical once over before getting up and kneeling next to the young Dwarf while reaching out and taking out some supplies from the pack next to him. Gimli bit back a hiss when the healer examined the long inflamed cut along his chest non too gently, most Dwarven healers where not known for a "gentle" bedside manner.

"Your in luck, lad," Lofar finally snorted as he set about cleaning the wound. "The blade was not poisoned. This cut will heal quickly and not scar," he said, applying some yellow substance to the cut.

"Unlike these," he snorted, pausing to run a critical glare at the many scars over Gimli's arms and back before going back to his task. Which immediately made Gimli think of the mysterious Lady Razel and Lady Raya and their wondrous healing, as well as the debt he still owed them.

After cleaning the wound, the older Dwarf then reached for a slender bone-needle and some hair-thin thread made of carefully treated deer sinew, that would eventually dissolve as the wound healed. With amazing dexterity and practiced ease Lofar threaded the tiny filament through the miniscule hole of the needle before fixing the young Dwarf with a long glare that clearly said, "don't move."

As the pale healer began to stitch the long cut closed, Gimli held his chin up and made sure to hold as still as possible. It was during this time that the eldest Dwarf with the velvet cloak got up from across the fire and strutted over to where Gimli and Lofar knelt. Gimli only turned his deep-brown eyes at the well dressed Dwarf's approach, taking note of the axe and short sword dangling from the Dwarf's thick silver and gold incrusted belt. Lofar however didn't bother to look up, instead reaching into his bundle for a small jar of special disinfectant sap.

The older Dwarf came to stand a few feet away, his thick body casting a long shadow, the firelight behind him causing his armament and mail to gleam as he looked down at the shirtless, dirty and ragged looking young Dwarf being attended to by the pale healer. Gimli said nothing as he watched the other, taking note of the older Dwarf's long dark beard that was intricately braided into three thick ropes with silver beads down his barrel-like chest. Gimli quickly surmised by the distinctive style of the Dwarf's beard that he was most likely haled from one of the richer BroadBeam clans.

"When Lofar here be done with you, find another fire to rest by," he rumbled, looking down at Gimli with a superior air that reminded Gimli a lot of Thorin when the silver-haired Dwarf was in a particularly pompous mood.

Like other races, some better off and more well-to-do Dwarves looked down their noses at poorer individuals, like those from smaller colonies or exiles that did not even have a Mountain or colony to call home. Of course these wealthy individuals were often of clans and families that had never had to struggle, most being born and raised in the privileged safety of the stone halls of whatever mountain they haled from. Combined with the fact that Gimli was still a young male, not even seventy yet, he was fairly low in the Dwarven hierarchy. The higher end being females, high ranking warriors, master craftsmen and those of direct royal blood lines.

Gimli almond-shaped eyes narrowed as he studied the Dwarf standing before him. As arrogant and as puffed-up with his own importance as Thorin Oakenshield had been, even he would not have been this haughty to deny a weary fellow Kazad a warm place by his fire. A part of Gimli was sorely temped to tell this pompous ass off, to tell him that he might be an 'Exile' and a 'Wonderer', but he was of more noble blood then all those here! He was the son of the Great Lady Nei and Gloin of the LongBeards! He came form a long line of honored warriors! He had Durin's blood in his veins!

Looking up at this self assured and arrogant noble, Gimli knew that if he wanted, he could have easily have taken this snob down a couple of pegs. The older Dwarf's thick waist speaking of more time spent eating and relaxing in front of a warm hearth then heavy working or fighting. Yet as tempting as it was to teach this ass a lesson in front of all those here as he watched the velvet cloaked Dwarf strut away and reclaim his seat, he was still exhausted from the previous battle and knew that he would no doubt have to take on the rest of those gathered here if he tried anything. So with a bitter snort Gimli turned his angry gaze to the dark and barren landscape around them and watched the flickering lights of the campfires nearby, the Lonely Mountain towering over them.

With a final nod at his work, Lofar finally snipped off the excess thread with his sharp teeth and sat back on his heels as Gimli looked down at the now stitched up wound as the healer turned to dig for something in his pack of supplies. A moment later he turned back with a long red bottle in hand, just in time to see Gimli gingerly touching the new stitches in morbid curiosity. Lofar promptly smacked Gimli's hand away with a scowl, causing the young Dwarf to flinch and yank back his smarting hand.

"Don't mess with it!" he ordered acidly, glaring at the now annoyed looking copper-haired Dwarf as he pulled the thick cork from the bottle. The healer then took a mouthful from the bottle, seeing this Gimli quickly closed his eyes and held his breath as the healer promptly spit the mouthful of the alcohol-like substance at him in a fine spray. A final disinfectant and mild numbing solution, all the smaller cuts and scrapes Gimli had momentarily burned before fading to a low tingle.

"There now," Lofar said in satisfaction, after wiping off his mouth and thick mustache with the back of his arm before firmly re-corking the red bottle and stowing it away again. Gimli wiped at his eyes and mouth with a grimace, the stuff burning his sensitive nose, luckily the harsh smelling substance was already drying and absorbing into his skin within a few moments.

"Done! Now be gettin' your ass out of here and find a fire to rest by," The sour healer instructed as he buckled up his pack before promptly sitting back down and closing his eyes again, returning to the almost exact pose Gimli had first found him in. With a quick glance around the fire Gimli saw the unfriendly gaze of all the other's now aimed at him, their message clear.

So without a word Gimli got to his feet and backed away from the group and back into the night before leaving the small camp behind. But not before flipping them all a rude hand gesture that caused a few around the fire to bristle and huff. Gimli just snorted under his breath as made his way back towards the other fires, the scruffy dog joining him again.

After a few moments he approached one of the fires that he had passed earlier, paying more attention this time. He now saw that those gathered around it were a harsh looking bunch, even by exile and 'Wanderer' standards. Gimli could even see a few grizzled looking humans in amongst the mostly Dwarven group, and unless his eyes where playing tricks on him, Gimli saw that there was even a long limbed Elf amongst them. Though he had never seen a singularly harsher and ruff looking Elf in his entire life, no doubt one of the legendary and mysterious Avari by his dress and manner. His dark hair was held away from his pale sharp featured face in a high tail on the back of his head, one of his elegant leaf-shaped ears missing. His manner as crude as those around him as he and some of the others around the fire played a game of cards. Every now and then leaning over to conspiratorially whisper something to the quiet red-haired Dwarf sitting beside him, who was busy sharpening the end of a wicked looking spear, no doubt the Elf's by the long lightweight haft of the weapon.

It was then that Gimli realized exactly what this group was and why they were camped here and not near Dain's main army; these were mercenaries! Though rare in this area they were common enough in the east and the other more established mountain settlements. It was a common practice for some roaming warriors to loan their "skills" out, for the right amount of coin to a village or town, who would hire them to act as guards or get rid of a local problem with raiders, orcs or even highwaymen. All those gathered around this fire were bristling with weapons and worn blood stained armor and apparently had bad attitudes to match.

For as soon as Gimli came near he was warned off by a deep growl from a large heavily armored warrior, no doubt the leader of the group by his baring. The hulking male Dwarf stood up from his seat on a low rock (that was actually a low boulder that had been dragged over to the fire) at Gimli's approach. His warning was clear to all, move on!, and Gimli did just that. Keeping the large Dwarf in his peripheral until he was safely past the hard looking group, the dog happily trotting along behind him.

As much as it stung his pride, Gimli knew the large mercenary leader and the other group of arrogant rich Dwarves were perfectly within their rights to deny any stranger accesses to the warmth of their fire. Unless of course they where a female or a better and stronger warrior.

If Gimli had turned around then, he would have seen the large ill-tempered Dwarf sit back down with a smug air- only to be harshly shoved off his seat with a clatter by his glaring and armored mate who had been sitting next to him on the low rock.

"Ass!" she huffed, looking down at him with a disapproving air before she went back to polishing her heavy helmet with a rag. The other mercenaries around the fire chuckled at their leader as he picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Yah! That's what ya get for being a right mean cuss, Kain!" said a hard looking warrior, glaring with his one eye, the other lost on his badly scarred face.

"Poor Pup," said another grizzled warrior, looking over his shoulder at Gimli's retreating back. "Looks like that ones' had a right rough time of it." Kain however just gave them all a glare and a loud "Bah! To the lot of ya!" As he sat back down, after making sure his still fuming mate wasn't going to shove him off again that is.

Meanwhile Gimli was walking past the first fire where the story teller had been, grumbling under his breath, having decided that he would just try and see if Draupnir and his brother would mind sharing some space in the shelter of the old watch-post for the night, when a voice rang out.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Exclaimed a deep voice to his right.

Pausing he looked over to see who had spoken and watched a powerful armored female stand up from her spot by the large fire at the back of the watch-post. Gimli gave an internal gulp, she was big by Dwarf standards and nothing but solid muscle.

Female Dwarves are much like the males of their race, their bodies made for strength and endurance, and like the males of their race they too grow beards. Though, unlike males, they only grow them on their chins, leaving their cheeks, upper lip and the rest of their face free of facial hair. However most outsiders did not know this and in turn often mistook female Dwarves for adolescent males or males sporting a long thick goatee instead of the usually thick full beard. Aside from the obvious facial differences, only their breasts (which where relatively small unless suckling young), larger hips and smaller waists would betrayed their clothed feminine gender to outsiders. For the most part females where usually the same size or a little smaller then the males of their species. But this female was unusual for his race, standing taller then the average male and even by Dwarf standards she was big and muscular. Her dark hair held away from her broad featured face in multiple braids snaking down her back, the thick single braid of her beard hanging down her chest, almost reaching to her belt and tied of with a simple strip of leather.

As Gimli watched her approach he noticed that she was also one of the most singularly unattractive females he had ever seen, though her body was strong and shapely, clad in form-hugging leather leggings and silver-plate armor. The dog forgotten at his feet hid behind him with its tail now between it's legs, the big strange Dwarf making it nervous. But what she next said caused Gimli's heart to momentarily skip a beat.

"I thought all of Nei's line dead!" she rumbled as she rounded the fire, her dark-eyes narrowed. The other Dwarves around the large fire seem to ignore what was going on, but many were actually keeping a weary eye on what was taking place. When Dwarves, especially skilled fighters, got into a fight things had a tendency to get ugly fast.

"I know her blood when I see it! You are one of her twins," the female stated, finally coming to loom over him. Gimli could say nothing except stare up at her, struck dumb at her words.

"I am Frar, daughter of Fraeg," she said, giving him a short bow.

But before Gimli could automatically bow and properly introduce himself, she had leaned in uncomfortably close and took a deep breath of his scent as he stood there tense, fighting himself from the want to take a step back. Watching her cautiously with his dark brown eyes as he tried to place this strange and very rude Dwarrow-dam, that somehow knew his mother, but he drew nothing but a blank. He said nothing when she leaned back again to look at him from a different angle, her big hands on her now cocked leather-clad hips, a large Dwarven knife resting against her muscled thigh.

"You do not know me, do you?" She demanded, seeing his obvious confusion and only getting a blank blink in answer. "I visited you and your family's caravan when you where young. Lady Frost was my mother's sister, she was the leader and Wise Woman of your caravan.

"Nigh but five summers you and your brother where, still had your milk teeth. Your elder brother, Daria was still going through his first growth-pains," she said, looking him over with eyes that critically assessed him.

Gimli did remember the Wise Lady Frost and that time, but was still drawing a blank when it came to the big Dwarrow-dam before him.

"Are you Water or Fire?" She suddenly asked, from seeming nowhere and Gimli felt his heart give a leap at the sound of those names. Names he hadn't heard in many years, names only his mother would fondly call he and his brother. To hear those names spoken aloud again conjuring back images from long ago that Gimli cherished. Of loving touches and embraces, of laughter and praises by his smiling mother and father, of happy times playing and laughing with his brothers and sister.

Gimli finally managed after a long moment to swallow his feelings and get an answer out of his tight throat. "I am Fire," he managed to say before continuing on. "I am Gimli, son of Nei and Gloin." he said with a deep pride in his voice before giving her a proper and respectful bow.

He was however completely unprepared and yelped in surprise when his arm was suddenly seized and he was dragged bodily forward, while a large calloused hand gripped him roughly by the chin.

Gimli had to fight himself from yanking out of her grip, his first instinct to lash out and knock her hands away. His heart pounded in his chest as he gritted his teeth as this strange Dwarrow-dam invaded his space, wondering in confusion if he had somehow inadvertently angered her. Unlike most other races, female Dwarves were often more aggressive then males and because they where a matriarchal society, Dwarrow-dams often became more aggressive and assertive of their dominance around other Dwarrow-dam. Being a young male, Gimli was far lower then she in the Dwarven hierarchy.

For a long while she continued to closely look at him, studying him, Gimli never taking his large eyes from her, steeling himself for whatever she was going to do.

"You have the look of your mother, child," she rumbled, turning his handsome tanned face from side to side with her firm grip on his chin.

"I am no child!" he snapped unthinkingly, forgetting himself for a moment and glared up at her with flashing eyes before instantly realizing his mistake and submissively dropped his eyes again. He gave an internal wince and mentally berated his fool tongue. He had seen Dwarrow-dams knockout males for less in his time, luckily for him the Lady Frar was not your average female.

"Ha! I see you have her fire as well!" she said with a bark of laughter, looking pleased at his reaction, her beetle-black eyes twinkling with amusement. It was then that Gimli realized that she had been testing him, for with that she released him and gave him a fond whack on the back.

"That is good!" She praised, hand on her hips again as she remembered the past, taking no notice as Gimli took a healthy step back from her. "I knew your mother well. I served with her under Nain's command for five years and the final battle of Azanulbizar. Ah! The glory of those battles! The black blood spilt, it flowed like rivers!" She said in sublime pleasure, an upraised fist clenched before her, her eyes distant, lost in the hot memories of blood and battle before turning to him again.

"I wept at the news of her loss. Arda is a far darker place since her passing," she said reverently, true sadness now in her dark-eyes as she looked at him again. Gimli only bowed his head with an agreeing nod, his heart aching with the thought of his mother, feeling the heavy and comforting weight of his remaining axes on his belt, he could only hope to some day become a warrior as great as she.

"But now is not the time for mourning!" Lady Frar barked suddenly, shaking off the melancholy and bringing them both back to the present.

"Come! You will sit with my daughter and I," she said, and with that she began to walk back to her seat by the fire. She was clearly not asking. Gimli gave an internal sigh and a final glance to the back of old watch-post not but a few feet away before following after her.

As he joined the others around the fire, some gave him welcoming nods or a brief greeting before going back to whatever they were doing. Gimli could also see that the storyteller he had seen earlier was still there, now smoking and talking quietly with another Dwarf, but most of the other Dwarves that had been listening to his story, including the young Dwarf they had been teasing, now lay sleeping, gathered together like sleeping pups behind where the storyteller sat.

He watched Lady Frar plunk herself down next to another much smaller female before she silently motioned for him to sit in a open space near them. As he sat down, the smaller female, who's name was Kaya looked up curiously. She gave him a long once over and apparently like what she saw by the look in her eyes before giving Gimli a friendly greeting, which he returned also liking what he saw. Lady Frar quickly introduced them before reaching for a heavy whetstone and began to sharpen her various weapons. Her daughter was surprisingly attractive and looked to be around his own age with the same dark hair as her mother and was as attractive as her mother wasn't. She was slightly smaller the Gimli himself and wore leather britches and boots like her mother, but not having participated in the fighting she wore no armor, instead a laced leather bodice and long sleeved blouse under her embroidered purple hood.

After he had sat down and gotten comfortable next to Kaya, the dog that had been following him promptly invited himself over and lay down between them near the fire as if he did so every night. The young Dwarrow-dam chuckled and gave the dog a few pets while Gimli shot the dog an annoyed look.

"Nice dog," said someone.

"It's not my dog! It just keeps following me around." He snapped as he glared in exasperation at the dirty and brown furred canine next to him. The other Dwarves however didn't seem to hear or care, going back to what they were doing before.

It was then that Lady Frar, after lighting-up her pipe, demanded he tell them how he came to be here. So for the next hour he told of the terrible fate of those of Black Hallow and the long journey to the Mountain and the following battle without going into too much detail. Though Frar made him go into greater detail about his time during the battle. What she heard pleased her greatly, for after he was done she proudly reached past her daughter and thumped him heavily on the back a few times.

"Good, good! Your mother would be proud, you honor your blood! Your name is well earned, lad! The fire of battle stirs in your heart!" She praised and Gimli couldn't help the surge of pride he felt.

During the next hour the other Dwarves around the fire talked about how they came to hear of Thorin's company taking back of the Lonely Mountain and joining Dain's army on their hard march to the Mountain. It was soon after that that the two-toned eyed Draupnir and his elder brother Dolgthrasir joined them, deciding not to spend the night in the old watch-post and enjoy the warmth of the fire. Both of them coming over and taking a seat on Gimli's other side upon seeing him, the copper-haired Dwarf waving them over. It was also this time that two heavily armed soldiers from the camp of Dain's army wondered over, having been boredly walking around. The larger of the two was named Bavor, who stayed standing while his darker-haired companion sat down next to Notch the storyteller and began to talk, apparently knowing one another.

The other Dwarves around the fire were a interesting mix from different clans and backgrounds, most having taken part in the battle, save for an obvious few. There was Notch, the storyteller and the rest of his family who were stone-masons, at the moment all of them were already asleep behind the stocky storyteller. There was also a large armored warrior by the name of Griff, who had light brown hair done in many long braids and seemed to have a rather sour disposition, a freshly sharpened broadsword at his hip and heavy round shield on the ground behind him. The short round-faced Dwarf sitting next to him, who occasionally stirred the large pot of stew over the fire was a friendly fellow by the name of Har, who was a cook by trade from one of the smaller settlements near the Iron Hills. On the other side of the fire sat two brothers, Finn and Ginnar who where clearly from one of the FireBeard clans by their bright flame-red hair, neither of the two where the sharpest knives in the arsenal, but they where good-hearted and honorable. Their weapons of choice were two massive long-handled war hammers that rested on the ground beside them. Sitting next to them was a quiet dark-haired Dwarf named Thrin, who wore some badly damaged and bloodstained armor, his long hair messy and tangled as he idly ran his cut and bloodstained hands over a dented helmet that clearly wasn't his own. His pale face still coved in dry red blood, his silent demeanor and the lost look in his dark eyes spoke of one who had lost someone that had been very dear. The other Dwarves around the fire respectfully gave him his space, knowing that the silent Dwarf was clearly mourning for someone that had not survive the battle.

There was a shuffle of boots that announced the arrival of another Dwarf, looking up Gimli saw the ancient white-haired healer that had awaken him on the battlefield earlier step out of the darkness. Upon his shoulder was the old Raven, Lady Rin's sharp intelligent eyes giving them all a critical glare before saying something to Vestri, causing him to snort in laughter amusement.

"Ah, good!" The old Dwarf said aloud when he noticed young copper-haired Dwarf, now shirtless, sitting amongst those around the warm fire, pleased that the ragged young one had clearly followed his orders as he moved to join the group. Seeing a comfortable looking spot he walked over to the back of the stone watch-post, the younger Dwarves immediately making room for him. Being of such advanced years he did not need to ask if he could join their camp, he could sit where ever he damn well wanted!

With much pleasure he finally set down his heavy pack of supplies along with his quiver, then propped the large heavy bow against the back of the watch-post before slowly lowering himself down with grunt next to it. Lady Rin having to flap her graying wings a few times to keep balance before the ancient Dwarf had settled, his joints aching. After Vestri had gotten comfortable, resting against the solid stone behind him, the warm fire before him, he looked over at Gimli, giving the young Dwarf a critical once over. Seeing the cut across Gimli's chest had been expertly stitched, he gave a satisfied nod. It was also with some amusement that he noticed that the young one seemed to have picked up a dog an the way here.

Har, upon seeing the ancient healer join them, fixed the old Dwarf a warm cup of tea, which Vestri gratefully excepted. The small cook then offered around small tin cups, telling everyone that they were welcome to the coffee and teapot hanging over the fire with the still cooking kettle of stew. Griff and a few of the others helping themselves to a cup as Har apologized for the lack of cream and sugar, the others waving off his apologies, happy to drink it black.

It was during this time that Draupnir next to Gimli, reached up and unwrapped the scarf from around his face, Gimli turning to watch in open curiosity. Scars and other such injuries where not considered unsightly in Dwarven society, only a crippling disability or weakness was considered something one should cover. When he was done and Gimli finally got a good look at his full face, he couldn't help give an internal wince as he looked at the other Dwarf in respectful appreciation of what he had clearly managed to survive and endure.

To say his disfigurement was hideous was putting it lightly. Where Draupnir's nose should have been there was nothing but two dark open nasal cavities, he also had no lips, his sharp pearly white teeth visible to all. He had no beard to speak of, the tight and ropy scar tissue of his lower face spoke of it being burned off by some terrible heat, his massive disfigurement giving the impression of a living grinning skull.

Dolgthrasir noticed the surprised looks his scarred younger brother was getting from some of the Dwarves around the fire. Finn and Ginnar giving low whistles of admiration from where they sat, their flame-colored eyebrows raised in wide-eyed surprise. Old Vestri studied Draupnir with the assessing and thoughtful eyes of a healer, mentally congratulating the healer that had managed to save the young Dwarf and counteract the infection that no doubt would have set in with such massive trauma.

"Orcs." Dolgthrasir said as way of explanation, and the others around the fire nodded their heads in instant understanding. Unlike an Elf that could fade or simply flee their bodies when being tortured, Men and Dwarves had no such option.

And because Aule made the Dwarves when Melkor had roamed the land, he made them hardy and able to endure. They could survive hunger, hardship and injury more heartily then all other speaking races (3.). Looking at individuals like Draupnir or the late Hanar it was easy to see why Dwarves where considered the toughest of all the free speaking races. They could survive horrible damage inflicted upon them that would normally kill any other being and the orcs and goblins had come to gleefully know this and take full advantage of it. Enabling them to torture a Dwarven victim for more prolong periods and come up with more imaginative agonies for them.

Draupnir's eyes narrowed in the unmistakable spark of mischief as he caught Gimli staring. For Gimli gave a blink as he watched a broad pink tongue suddenly flicked out from behind the Dwarf's bare teeth, followed by the unmistakable sound of a raspberry being blown. Gimli couldn't help a snort of amusement and promptly stuck his own tongue out back at the scarred Dwarf.

"If you look like that, what does the orc look like?" He finally asked with a laugh, watching the amusement in Draupnir expressive eyes.

"He has to walk backwards and talk out of his ass!" he signed back with his nimble hands, as his shoulders shook with laughter. Several others around the fire also laughed in amusement having seen what he signed.

It was then that Har began to ladle out the stew after bringing out a stack of simple bowls, having apparently packed some extra. "Just in case," he had winked. Everyone around the fire excepted a bowl except the solemn and quiet Thrin, who only shook his head no to an offered bowl, still cradling the damaged helmet as if it was some precious treasure.

"Here, pass these around. I traded some salt for some of this here waybread from the Lake Men's camp. 'Cram' I think they be calling it," he said as he took out a small bundle and uncovered the brown cakes before passing it to the Dwarf next to him before going back to ladling out the stew.

Gimli already knew how dry and unpleasant cram was, remembering the bland taste from the cakes he had managed to pinch from the Lake Men's camp two days previous. But when one was hungry, one could not afford to be picky, so he took a cake when it was passed around. The dog beside him watching the activity in rapt interest, his dark nose working over time as he smelled the food.

Griff took a bite before making a face and promptly spitting it out, then taking a swig of his coffee. "Cram you say? Dry crap, I call it!" he snorted, glaring at the dry bit of bred in his hand as if it was a poisonous snake before tossing it into the fire with disgust.

"Oy now!" scolded Har, as he wrapped up the rest and stowed the bundle away in his monstrous pack. "Just cause ya don't like it, don't mean ya got ta waste it!" Admonished the smaller cook, but the large warrior only gave a humph before turning away.

"It ain't too bad soaked in stew," said Finn, popping his now sopping bit of cram in his mouth. His red-haired brother beside him giving a nod of agreement as he ate his own, Gimli, Draupnir and his brother copying them.

It was then that the dog, who had been watching Gimli eat, forgotten by the others gave a bark causing some to jump and Gimli to halt in his eating and glare down at said dog, while some of the others chuckle in amusement or grumble in annoyance.

"Well now! We can't have the lad's loyal companion go without, can we," Har said with a laugh from the other side of the fire.

Gimli was just about to growl out again that, it wasn't his damn dog, but gave a sigh of defeat as he looked down at the scruffy canine that looked innocently up at him with it's head cocked to the side and licking it's lips hungrily. Wanted or not, it looked like it was "he" who had been adopted by the persistent mutt.

With a smile the cook got out another bowl and ladled some stew into it, then passing it over the fire to Kaya who put it before the eager dog that jumped to its feet as soon as it realized that this bowl was for him. He did a happy spin before digging in with a gusto. Kaya gave a laugh and gave the animal a fond pat on the back, the dog paused in it's eating long enough to give her cheek a big thankful lick before going back to it's bowl.

"You call me wasteful, yet you waste good food on that mangy mongrel?" Griff grumbled sourly as he sipped his coffee.

"Well at least he gratefully eats my food, instead of wastefully throwing it into the fire!" Har sniffed, not even bothering to look at the glowering Dwarf as he finally served himself and sat down to eat. They all drifted into silence as they ate before the dark-haired Dolgthrasir spoke again.

"Hey Gimli? Your friend there got a name?" he teased, looking up from his stew as Gimli handed back the dog's now licked clean bowl before going back to his own. Yet before he could reply back, he was interrupted by a sneering voice.

"Gimli? What does that mean?" Sniffed Bavor, the armored soldier that stood quietly on the apposite side of the fire, almost forgotten, breaking rudely into their conversation. He and the other soldier, who was still talking to Notch, had both declined an offered bowl of stew, having eaten earlier with the rest of the army.

"Fire, right?" signed Draupnir one handed, while he held his bowl of stew with his other, looking at the copper-haired Dwarf next to him.

Gimli, who had his mouth full at the moment, gave a nod of his head as he signed back. "Aye, that it does." He answered, sparing the standing soldier a brief glareIt didn't matter what race one hailed from, there was always someone trying to stir up trouble

"And if I be remembering correctly…" Vestri mused from his spot, as he stroked his long silky white beard. "Its another name for 'Star' in one of the other Mannish tongues. Yes?"

"Star? What kind of name is that? Sounds positively Elvish!" Bavor snorted with an insulting laugh, looking down at Gimli with an eyebrow cocked.

Gimli said nothing as he narrowed his eyes at the warrior. This would not be the first time he was razed about his name and he highly doubted it would be the last.

"Well I like it." Old Vestri stated, Lady Rin giving an agreeing bob of her head before she went back to preened one of her wings. "Fire and Stars. It somehow suits you, lad!" the old Dwarf smiled before taking a sip of his tea.

"I like it too!" Agreed Kaya, from her place next to her mother who was silently smoked her pipe, blowing the occasional smoke ring. She gave Gimli a smile and a seductive wink before turning to glare up at the standing soldier. "Sides' what kind of name be Bavor?" she snorted, looking pointedly up at him. "What does that stand for?"

Bavor was just opening his mouth to give a haughty reply, irritation clearly written on his face when Finn suddenly interrupted him from the other side of the fire.

"Oh! I know what it be mean'in!" He eagerly said, he and his brother sitting eagerly at attention now, both with matching mischievous grins on their red-bearded faces.

"Its Elvish for Turd!" Ginnar burst out with a laugh next to him. He and his brother then proceeded to fall over each other in their uproarious laughter. Needless to say Bavor was glaring murder at the two now rolling FireBeards as everyone around the fire continued to laugh. Even Gimli could not help, but throw his head back and laugh at how red Bavor's face now was as he glared at everyone.

Before he could snap a reply, the eerie call of a Barn owl rang through the night air, calling out two more times before falling silent again. All the Dwarves around the fire paused to listen, immediately recognizing it as a disguised Dwarven call. Specifically it was a call used by the Dwarven army to call any wayward soldiers back to camp immediately, without a further word Bavor and the other soldier that had been talking with Notch, got up and quickly jogged back into the night, heading back to Dain's camp.

After they had all finished eating and handed back their bowls, the group soon fell into a comfortable silence as those around the cheerful fire went about whatever it was that they had been doing, some smoking, some talking, while others busily cleaned their weapons and mail. Kaya was focused on mending a large rip in her mother's tunic as Lady Frar finished sharpening her knife and started on her battle-axe, on the other side of the fire Notch, the storyteller finally called it a night and moved back to curl up with his sleeping family.

With a face cracking yawn, Gimli stretched his arms above his head before flopping back to lay with his head pillowed on his large hands, turning his gaze up to the heavens, while Finn and Ginnar set about rebraiding their red beards as Dolgthrasir polished some of the beads in his intricately braided hair and Draupnir rewrapped his face with his red scarf. It was during this quiet time that the soft sounds of Elvish singing drifted up to them from the direction of the Wood-elves' camp.

It was a sad mournful song sung by many silvery voices, and though they knew not the words, their meaning was clear. For the flowing song seem to reach into the hearts of any who heard it and draw out the sadness and longing within.

As Gimli lay back and listened, ignoring the cool ground and the prickle of small stones digging into his bare back, he watched the dazzling stars above, his thoughts drifting once again to the past. The warm presence of the dog laying next to him strangely comporting, the smell of fire and burnt wood still clinging to its fur. In his mind he saw the faces of friends and loved ones alike appear before fading away and he felt his heart constrict in sorrow, knowing that they were gone now and he would never see them again. As the delicate Elven singing continued almost as if in tune with the stars glittering above, Gimli couldn't help but wonder what his family and friends would all think if they could see him now…

When the singing finally drifted to an end there was almost a feeling of wistful disappointment and even a few sad sniffs to be heard in the following silence, only the crackling and occasional pop of the fire to be heard.

"That was wonderful…" murmured Kaya, looking wistfully up into the night sky above them, a few of the others giving agreeing nods. The needle and thread still in her unmoving hands, her movements stilled in the wake of the enchanted singing. "I wonder what they call that song?" She mused aloud to herself before going back to what she was doing with a sigh. Next to her Gimli sat up again and ran a broad hand through his long thick hair before taking a folded bit of cloth from one of the hidden compartments on his belt and began to polish his axes, starting with his single-blade axe. As he carefully inspected the blade for any damage, the dog beside him scratched at a stubborn itch on it's neck with a back foot.

"Its called… 'It's Midnight in Mirkwood and I Can't Get My cock Outta This Tree'," cracked one of the FireBeard brothers after a few moments, causing everyone around the fire to bark in laughter again.

It was then that another small group of Dwarves arrived out of the darkness. Leading the group of four were two warriors, one was broad shouldered but slim in build compared to the taller Dwarf at his side, who was built like a muscled juggernaut, bigger then even Lady Frar. Both had finely wrought weapons, as well as armor and mail, the slimmer carried a sword and heavy lance, while the larger carried several axes including a massive battle-axe on his back. The two behind them were younger and dressed in simple traveling clothes and hoods, both clearly not warriors compared to the first two.

The slimmer of the two warriors gave a silent greeting, motioning with a elegant move of his hand if they could join their camp, this request was directed at the white-haired Vestri and the Lady Frar. Being the eldest Dwarf and the eldest female there it was up to them if they would share their fire.

Vestri only gave a grunt and waved them welcome, the Lady Frar gave them a long once over then also inclined her head in welcome before going back to puffing on her pipe as she sharpened her axe with a black whetting stone. Draupnir and his brother scooted closer to Gimli as they made room for the new comers. With that they dropped their packs and the two younger Dwarves gratefully flopping down, throwing there hoods back and allowing the warm fire-light to illuminate their young smooth faces. Gimli guessed that they were both only a few years younger then him.

The slimmer of the two warriors took off his helm and out tumbled a long glorious main of deep blue hair that shined iridescently in the light and a smooth striking featured face with slanted indigo-colored eyes that spoke of a mischievous and mellow personality. If Gimli was considered extremely handsome and striking, then this Dwarf could only be called beautiful. And to add to this he had even shaved part of his beard leaving only the hair framing his full-lipped mouth, his thick mustache and beard delicately braided with blue glass beads. His cheeks and the sides of his jaw naked and smooth, which was very daring for the neck and the underside of the jaw were both erogenous zones for Dwarves. For him to have shaved it and bare that naked skin, it was like a human woman wearing a high skirt above the knee or a plunging necked blouse that showed off a good portion of cleavage. His mate was far less attractive, making up for his looks with his size and battle prowess.

It was understandable that the larger chestnut-haired male was a bit possessive, for he had also removed his heavy helmet and had been in the process of taking his thick gloves off when he noticed the sudden silence and many of the admiring looks aimed at his blue-haired mate. He let out a deep rumbling growl as he glared heatedly at all those around the fire, the hard look of warning on his broad-featured face let all know that they wouldn't live long if they tried anything. His mate on the other hand only rolled his indigo eyes and gave him an exasperated glare.

Even Lady Frar and Vestri made a point of looking away as a show that they had no intentions of challenging his claim. This was one of the few rights that a male could openly challenge a female or a Dwarf of any rank to.

After they had settled down, the four of them gratefully excepted an offer of coffee from Har, the large chestnut-haired warrior introduced himself as Bruni, son of Brom, and his attractive mate as Nyrad, son of Nyad and the other two who were called Nur (who was Nyrad's younger brother) and Skafid (who was one of Bruni's young cousins). After the introductions things settled down again as people went back to talking. Non here bothered to ask where everyone was from or why, it simply being unimportant, the only thing mattering was that they were here now at the start of a new beginning at the Lonely Mountain.

Gimli finished polishing Fire Reaper before putting it back then reached behind him and brought forth Blood Screamer, his double-bladed battle-axe to inspect. After checking the leather wrappings on the thick haft he then moved on to inspect the wicked crescent blades, miraculously finding no nicks or damage before he set about polishing the broad blades that gleamed red in the fire light.

"Is that axe… The axe I think it is?" Bruni suddenly gasped, catching sight of Gimli's axe from where he sat, dark eyes wide with surprise at seeing such a legendary weapon.

"Aye! Your eyes don't fool you. That be Blood Screamer alright," Lady Frar said around her pipe. "The handsome lad here be all that's left of Nei's blood."

"Mahal be damned! My father told me of that axe, the sound of it. I knew I had to have heard that axes' wail during the battle! Thought I be losing me mind for awhile there," The large warrior said with a shake of his head as he looked at the young Dwarf holding said axe, who had paused in what he was doing and looked back at him with a unreadable look on his smooth tanned face.

"Oh Bruni! Don't be silly, my love. You lost that years ago!" laughed the blue-haired Nyrad next to him, not having been paying attention and catching only the tail end of what the big Dwarf had said.

"Quiet you!" Bruni rumbled, turning to glare at his chuckling mate. Who only batted his cat-like eyes prettily before leaning forward to playfully nip the tip of his hawkish-nose with a sultry smile. Bruni just snorted as he turned back to the fire with a shake of his head before reaching up to rub his nose as Nyrad chuckle softly. Bruni seem to ignore his playful mate who now happily leaned against his side, chin resting on his broad shoulder.

"You take good care of that axe, lad!" Ordered Bruni, giving Gimli a sharp nod of his head. Which in turn caused Gimli's gut to guiltily clench as he remembered the pressing absence of his other missing axe as he finally put Blood Screamer in it's holster behind him. Next to him the dog gave a big toothy yawn before resting it's warm head on Gimli's leg and without a thought he began to idly stroke the dog's head, it's dark eyes closing in contentment.

It was then that Bruni seem to remember something and put his cup of coffee down, he said something to Nyrad before they both got up to get something from one of their large packs. They soon returned with two large dry-smoked racks of cow ribs to generously share with everyone still awake around the fire. Apparently they had meant to only bring one, but Bruni's cousin had conveniently slipped another rack into their pack of supplies before they left their home. A cheer of praise went up from the other Dwarves as the big warrior began to break the two racks apart with his hands while Nyrad passed around the separated pieces, two ribs per Dwarf. Most gave their deep thanks and praised the two's generosity as they excepted the treat, some saving theirs to share with their sleeping companions later. The quiet Thrin once again refused any food and Old Vestri graciously declined the offer with a wave of his hand before going back to sipping his tea, while Gimli, Draupnir and Dolgthrasir eagerly excepted. The dark and hardened jerky-like flesh on the long white bones would have been near impossible for an ordinary Man to eat, but it was no problem for Dwarves with their strong teeth and powerful jaws.

Gimli would have eaten both ribs had it not been for the soft wine from next to him, a brief glance down and he was confronted by a pair of big pleading eyes. This was just another reason why he didn't need a damn dog around he silently thought to himself as he glared down at the oblivious and still pleading mutt. Still, the scruffy dog was clearly as hungry as he, so with a roll of his dark eyes Gimli gave the dog the other rib which was happily excepted. As he began to eat his own piece, he was a little surprised when the dog didn't run off with his prize, but instead stayed next to him and worried his bone between his paws. All too soon they had both stripped the curved bones clean. Gimli wistfully gnawing on his bone for long minuets after, his belly still grumbling with hunger pains as he finally gave the bone to the dog next to him, who still happily chewed on his own.

Next to him Kaya and Lady Frar also had excepted some meat, but ate theirs at a much more sedate pace then Gimli and his four-legged companion. Draupnir and his brother had saved theirs for later, while Fin and Ginnar ate theirs immediately, amusing themselves after words by seeing who could break the bones into smaller bits before tossing them into the flames.

"Oy, Nur! Get me another piece of meat will ya?" Skafid said lazily, as he watched the younger blue-haired Dwarf scramble up to get something from their packs.

"I'm not your servant! Get it yourself, ya lazy shit-head!" Nur snapped, turning to glare at the other. Both Nyrad and Bruni didn't even bother to turn around, both having matching pained looks upon their faces. They knew all too well what was going to happen next, having seen many similar incidents like this start at home and on the long journey to the Mountain.

"Wha!" Skafid yelled incredulously. "That's it! If you don't be gettin' me another rib, I'm going to shove this up your winy little ass!" He growled, holding said chewed on rib threateningly.

"I think ya just want to get your hands on me ass!" Nur accused, hands clenched into fists while glaring down at the still seated and now irate Dwarf.

"Don't project your disgusting fantasies on me, you little pervert!" Skafid snapped, shooting to his feet in insult before bouncing the bone he held off Nur's forehead.

"Why you--!" Needless to say the fight was now officially on and it was not long before they where both rolling around on the ground, throwing wild hits as they growled and cursed one another. Luckily neither was a skilled fighter in the least, so there was not much chance of serious injury, most of the others around the fire simply tuned them out.

Unfortunately the battling duo accidentally rolled into Bruni's back, causing the large Dwarf to spill some of his coffee just as he was about to take a sip and in turn spilling the hot liquid on his beard and down his front. Apparently that was the last straw for him.

"Are you two quite through! I'm getting sick of hearing your little unrequited love affair back there!" snarled Bruni in irritation as he wiped at his front and beard before fixing the two behind him with a glare. The two younger Dwarves immediately froze in shocked disbelief. Both Nur and Skafid then looked at one another before they quickly separated from one another as if they had suddenly been burned, matching looks of disgust on their faces. With a satisfied snort Bruni turned back to his coffee and took a long calming sip of the hot bitter liquid in blessed silence.

"Hmmmmm." Nyrad mused aloud to himself after a long pause. "Its awful quiet back there… Are you two kissing?" Nyrad asked as he looked over his shoulder at the two behind them, a smirk on his lips.

"Shut up, Nyrad!" Grumbled Nur, turning to glare daggers at his older sibling.

"Ya! Shut up," Skafid added, as Nur picked up and flicked a pebble at his brother.

"Oy now!" Yelled the older Dwarf, flinching at the sting of the small projectile. "Remember who is your elder, brat!" scowled Nyrad as he reached behind Bruni to swat at the two behind them. Both Nur and Skafid easily dodging his hand before Nyrad gave them both a warning glare and turned around again with a huff.

Meanwhile Lady Rin, after grooming her own graying feathers, set about fussidly preening Vestri's white hair as he lightly dosed, his back against the stone behind him, his cup of tea warming his hands. The fire casting deep shadows on his wise and deeply wrinkled face, his very presence seeming to have a calming affect on the others around the fire.

"Where are you going?" Kaya asked, when her mother finally stowed her whetstone and pipe and got up.

"Nothing like a battle to get the blood flowing. Now I'm in need of a good poke!" she said with a positively predatory grin, rolling her hips suggestively, her leather pants creaking with the movement.

"Mother!" Kaya admonished, rolling her eyes in exasperation and embarrassment at her mother's behavior.

Though Kaya was her only child, Lady Frar had no mate. Being Matriarchal and a society where children are so treasured it was rare, but not unheard of nor looked down upon, if a female were to bare children outside of marriage. It was simply her choice if she wished to have children with or without a mate. Lady Frar was just such a female, a warrior who had never found her 'one' mate, but had become pregnant after a brief and heated affair with a talented weapons-smith from one of the BlackLock clans in the Iron Hills.

"Any one here interesting in 'pounding the anvil' with me?" the big Dwarrow-Dam asked, looking at those around the fire and specifically at Griff and the larger males. "How bout you, Star?" She said all of a sudden, turning his way and in turn causing him to freeze and his eyes to snap wide as all the blood to drain from his face.

"I guarantee a night with me will add two inches to your beard, pretty boy," she purred, giving the handsome young Dwarf a suggestive look.

Gimli didn't doubt that as he looked up at her and contemplated making a run for it.

"Mother!" Kaya hissed again as she glared pointedly up at her mother next to him. Silently telling her that she had called first dibs on the copper-haired young male.

"Don't do it lad! A night with her and you'll wakeup looking like me!" warned Vestri, having awoken earlier and subtlety coming to his rescue. Everyone around the fire laughed and even Lady Frar herself gave a snort of amusement.

"Humph! So be it, your loss," she huffed good naturedly, as she repositioned the heavy weapons on her belt. "If ya need me, I'll be out chasing the beards!" She called over her shoulder before walking purposefully into the darkness, heading for the large encampment of Dain's army.

After she had left and the talking had resumed, Kaya subtlety scooted closer to Gimli, only the dog now between them. Gimli turned to look at her and watched the dark-haired an attractive young Dwarrow-dam flutter her eyes prettily at him, an answering smile curling his lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly and looked back at her with half-lidded eyes. Letting her know that he found her attractive too and with that they both turned back to the fire.

The flapping of wings announced the arrival of two new Ravens to their camp, causing a few of the Dwarves to momentarily look up. Lady Rin introduced the new comers in her high clipped voice as her first and second adopted hatchlings. Her smaller daughter Te, who had landed on the ground next to Vestri and her larger son Ty, who was now perched on the top of the stone watch-post above them.

"Mother! Vestri! I kill many, two ugly crows and four nasty leather-wings!" crowed the young bird in in a high reedy voice. The dark rust color still staining her elegant beak and feet speaking of her grim exploits.

"You are quite the warrior, young Te," Old Vestri praised as he reached up and gave the young Raven an affectionate scratch between the wings when she hopped up onto his other shoulder.

Meanwhile her brother flew down from the boulder to the old Dwarf's pack as those around the fire continued to talk. Hopping onto it, he skillfully undid the buckle with one foot and his beak with practice ease and pushed the flap open before disappearing into it. A moment later he reappeared with a small velvet pouch held closed with a red cord in his beak as Gimli idly watched from where he sat with his knees now drawn up, Draupnir and Dolgthrasir already laying down to sleep.

The young Raven quickly opened the pouch with his nimble beak, plucking a silver chain from it, much like the one his mother wore around her neck. Only instead of an opal, he had a bead of carved jade. With a jerk of his head the Raven slipped the chain over his head, adjusting the bead so it lay proudly on his breast. Then he synched the pouch up and put it away again, even buckling the healer's pack up again.

This behavior might have been surprising to a Man if they had seen it, but it was nothing strange or new to the Dwarves. The friendship between the Ravens and Durin's folk was strong and the Dwarves had long ago come to know of the Raven's sharp intelligence and wit. Soon after both Lady Rin's fledglings flew off to revel with some of the other Ravens from the Lonely Mountain, every now and then a distant cackle from the night sky sounded their amusements as they flew and dodged one another in the crisp night air. Lady Rin however stayed upon her ever present perch on Vestri's shoulder, clucking at the old Dwarf that he did not preen himself well enough to her liking as she fussed with his long snowy hair.

After a brief discussion as to who would be on watch that night, it being decided that Bruni would take first watch, followed by Griff and then the two FireBeard brothers, most of the others finally turned in. Some having a blanket while others simply curled up by themselves or cuddle up to their already sleeping companions on the ground.

Kaya wrapped herself in a thick brown blanket and gave Gimli a wink before laying down and curling up to sleep, Gimli wishing her a soft good night.

Nyrad, after sharing a few quiet words with his mate and a quick kiss got up and got three blankets from one of their packs, tossing both Skafid and Nur one before wrapping the last and largest about himself and laying down on his side behind Bruni. He had taken the largest blanket knowing that the large Dwarf would be joining him later.

"Give us a good night smooch, Nur!" Skafid snickered as the light-haired haired Dwarf lay down on Nyrad's other side.

"Eat dirt, fart-breath!" groused Nur, his voice muffled as he wrapped the coarse woven blanket around himself before flopping down to snuggle up against his elder brother's warm back.

Within a few moments only Gimli, old Vestri, Bruni and the silent Thrin still sat before the low burning fire, their features cast in its warm orange glow as the deep shadows danced around them.

Idly Gimli watched the large warrior carefully rewrap the thick haft of his axe with interwoven strips of leather, while Old Vestri dosed, every now and then sipping from his cup of tea as Lady Rin whispered into his ear. The hollow-eyed Thrin still slowly rocking as he caressed the damaged helmet, his dark eyes staring at nothing, lost in his sorrow as the crackle of the fire and the comforting creak of stretching leather blended with the sounds of the night around them.

From where he sat, Bruni watched the ragged young Dwarf with the dog give a big face-cracking yawn before resting his chin back down on his upraised knees. Seeing the half-lidded eyes and the clear exhaustion in his slumped shoulders.

"Sleep young one, I'll guard us this night," he softly said, laying his great axe across his knees. For a moment it seemed as if the young copper-haired male would argue, but apparently thought better of it.

Gimli silently nodded his head after a long moment before releasing his knees and laying down on the cool uncomfortable ground, his bare and scarred back to the fire. Tucking his knees and arms in close for warmth, he felt the warm furry weight of the dog curl up next to him by his shoulder. With a final look at the dazzling stars above, Gimli allowed his eyes to close, it was not long before the dark void of sleep claimed him.

So tired was he that he did not wake when Vestri, finally done with his tea, slowly got up with a pained groan and a few loud pops of his joints before reaching into his pack of supplies and brought out an extra blanket. He then walked over and laid the blanket over the exhausted young Dwarf and gave the dog that curiously watched him a pat on the head before both he and Lady Rin decided to join the others in sleep.

Going back to his spot Vestri took out his bedroll and another blanket, Rin patiently waited on the ground while the white-haired Dwarf wrapped himself in the warm green blanket and lay down on his bed roll. After he was settled and comfortable she gave a final stretch of her graying wings before she hopped up, puffing her feathers as nested down on his chest by his interlaced hands, her dark eyes finally closing. Leaving the guarding Bruni to smoke his pipe and watch the night.

It was an hour later when Thrin suddenly stopped rocking and got to his feet, then without a word the hollow-eyed Dwarf simply walked into the night, helmet in hand. Bruni silently watched him go, knowing instinctively that he would never see the sad warrior again.

-------------

The following day during the early light of morning in the middle of the Wood-elves' camp, a meeting was about to take place.

In the Elf King's royal tent there hung tapestries depicting rich forests and enchanted wood-land glens in wondrous detail, while lush green grass carpeted the interior of the large tent. It was here that an elegant throne of polished an interlaced wood sat as if some strange tree had grown and twisted it's branches for the single purposes of proving the Elven King with proper seat, while slender creeping vines and delicate flowers crawled up the elegant wooden throne. The plant life in the once barren landscape of the Dragon's desolation seeming to miraculously spring up and grow in the Wood-elves' presence.

It was on this throne that the noble and sun-haired Elven King sat, his long white and gilded sword at his side, a vision of power and elegance. His dark and sharp-eyed hunting hawk perched on the back of his throne as two slender-bodied hounds lay at his feet. His pale aristocratic face inscrutable, his dazzling sapphire eyes missing nothing as they swept the room, his sharp leaf-shaped ears hearing all as they waited for Dain to join them. Upon his golden head, his crown of leaves and berries had been replaced with a beautiful circlet of shining mithril, shaped like delicate branches intertwined with leaves of emeralds and white diamond blossoms. A silken cloak of shimmering green was draped over his broad shoulders, held with a round pearl clasp, clad in his newly washed and polished gold and green armor as his three sons and several of his top royal guards flanked his majestic seated form.

Their pale and delicately featured faces set in unreadable masks, seeming made of cool alabaster. All of them clad in fresh clothes, their long silken hair combed and shining. The three elegant Princes even wearing the delicate and seldom worn mithril circlets about their heads, stating their royal lineage. Caulndil, the eldest Prince was clad in shinning armor of green and gold like their father, while Valandil and the lithe Legolas wore the simple yet elegant garb of archers, their long slender legs clad in tall soft-skin boots, all three with emerald cloaks about their shoulders. They and the King seem to radiate a glow about them, all of them openly armed in an dazzling show of power.

Standing nearby and looking far less elegant, yet no less noble was Bard, still in the same clothes he had worn into battle the day before, flanked by two of his best men. His sword at his hip and the great bow and quiver still upon his back, the Elves still a bit stunned that this one mortal had single handedly brought down the Dragon-- with one arrow no less. Bard's similarly clad men, sifted uncomfortably on their feet, feeling uncomfortable and rather unnerved in the seemingly otherworldly presence of the Elves around them as they stoically flanked their noble leader.

Lastly there was the snow-haired Gandalf, clad in his ever present grey robes and tall pointy hat, his twisted wooden staff in hand as his other arm lay in a simple sling. He was there to act as moderator, personally knowing all those that would take part in this meeting. He stood near Thranduil's left with the King's dark haired and eldest son. Only Valandil, Thranduil's middle child inheriting his father's golden hair, the other two taking after their late Silvan mother.

The two hounds at Thranduil's feet suddenly picked up their heads and the other occupants of the tent turned their attention to the entrance as the tread of booted feet and the clink of heavy weapons announced the arrival of the Dwarven delegation. It was then that the striking and dark haired Dwarf King swept into the tent, flanked by two of his most trusted warriors. Unlike Thranduil's, his armor was still filthy and liberally covered in dried black blood, his heavy red battleaxe at his side, a round shield depicting a blazing sun strapped to his back with a crimson cloak about his shoulders. Once again all in the tent felt the power and majesty this Dwarf King exuded even despite the dirt and blood that still stained him, making him look like some primal Warrior God back form an invigorating battle. His long thick hair held back from his handsome face in a simple braid, his beard forked and braided. Perched upon his broad armored shoulder was Roac, the old Raven's sharp intelligent eyes missing nothing.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed a fraction at the sight of the old bald bird, instantly realizing how Thorin had been able to call for help so quickly or how Dain's army had come so prepared for war. The dark birds had no doubt acted as spies, keeping those in the Mountain abreast of what had been happening outside. He made sure to store this bit of information away for later.

Perched upon Dain's other shoulder was a large Thrush, who's head cocked and bobbed about, it's attention seeming everywhere at once as it fidgeted on the Dwarf King's shoulder. The dark and speckled yellow-breasted bird was clearly uncomfortable in the enclosed space of the airy Elven tent; the sight of the majestic hawk perched silently on the back of the Elf King's large chair did not help either.

For a long silent moment they all seem to size one another up, unlike Bard and his Men, Dain seemed unimpressed with Thranduil's show of force and seemed more interested in the interior of the tent, even giving a bark of amusement as he looked down at the lush green grass under his feet. He continued to look about in open appreciation, a smirk coming to his lips as he looked over the three silent Princes and the guards flanking the golden-haired Elf King, seeing it for the show it was before turning back to the matter at hand.

"Forgive my lateness, but I had several things that needed my attention in the Mountain. I also needed to fetch our friend here," He said in way of apology, a smile on his bearded face as he motioned to the fidgety Thrush who almost seem to look embarrassed just then.

"Dain, son of Nain. At your service," he said, giving them both a respectful bow. His men doing the same, but going down to one knee before standing.

Bard and his men gave him a deep bow in return, still a bit in awe of this being that was so different from his previous encounters with the silver-haired Thorin. It was only during the battle as their combined forces fought side-by-side that Bard realized the true foolishness of his previous words to Woodland King as they had watched Dain's army arrive before the battle. It was only now after being in his presence that Bard saw why this powerful Dwarf Lord was held in such fear and high esteem by Elves, Dwarves and Men alike.

Thranduil meanwhile remained coolly seated, head held high and proud, only respectfully inclined his head at Dain's bow, he and his people had much more at stake then Bard's. His actions against Thorin and his company in Mirkwood and later at the foot of the Mountain could come to a bad end if Dain wished to hold his cousin's grievances. After he had addressed Bard and the Woodland King, Dain then turned to the grey Wizard.

"Gandalf! As always, I am at your service!" He said with a big smile, giving the Istari a prim bow, his heavy chain mail clinking.

"And I at yours," Gandalf said with true warmth in his voice, a matching smile on his bearded and wizen face.

"I must say, my friend. It is good to see you in… relatively one piece," the Dwarf said with a warm laugh, giving the Wizard's slinged arm a rueful look. Gandalf just shook his head in amusement, the winkled corners of his twinkling eyes crinkling in humor.

"Well now! If the introductions are over, shall we commence with the matters at hand?" Gandalf offered, motioning to the middle of the tent with his staff to all of them.

For the next hour they discussed the pressing matter of the healing tents and the disposal of the bodies, the feeding of their men and what to do with the individuals caught looting the bodies of the fallen as well as many other matters that needed to be addressed. With that out of the way came the more important discussion of where the they all now stood, now that the battle was over and Thorin was dead, the prickly business of Smaug's treasure still lingered. Thranduil still sat regally on his throne and Gandalf sat near him on a simple chair that had been brought for him as they continued to discuss matters, while Dain and Bard stood with their men.

After they had all lapsed back into a long pregnant silence, Dain decided to take the initiative and turned to Bard. The tall Man of the Lake found himself caught by a pair of dark burning eyes, watching as the striking Dwarf came to him, stopping not four feet away. And though he stood a head taller then Dain, the Dwarf seem to tower over him.

"I and my people give you our deepest and greatest thanks, Bard Noble Dragon-Slayer!" Dain said in his deep voice before he thumped a heavy fist to his chest and gave the Man a reverent bow. Dain then held out his great arm to the human, a twinkle in his dark eyes and a smile on his face, a matching smile now curling Bard's lips as both he and the Dwarf tightly clasped one another's arm as warriors and in friendship.

"I do not break promises, and so as agreed by my cousin Thorin, the late King under the Mountain. The amount of one twelfth of Smaug's hoard as agreed upon and more-- is yours. As of now it is being delivered to your camp," Dain told him as he stepped back. "Also, an army of my finest builders is at your disposal," he pledged. Bard seeming almost stunned by this, so different was Dain from his previous dealings with Thorin.

"My thanks, Dain," he said, finally recovering and giving the King a thankful bow. "You honor me."

"Master Thrush?" Dain then said, raising a large gloved hand before him. Immediately the bird hopped off his shoulder and alighted on the thick hand to face the Dwarf King.

"We of Durin's folk also give you our deepest thanks," With that Dain bowed his head and the other Dwarves bowed fully to the bird, much to the astonishment of both the Elves and Men in the tent. Gandalf however only watched from where he sat with a knowing and pleased look in his ancient storm-grey eyes as he leaned on his staff, so far this was going better then he had planned.

The old Thrush closed it's eyes and bowed to Dain in return, then warbling something that made the Dwarf King smile and nod his head in answer to whatever the bird had said. Unlike Thorin before him and many of the Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, Dain and his people still knew the fast sing-song language of the birds. The IronHills still having a large flourishing population of the wise birds. With a final cheerful warble the old Thrush took wing and flew across the tent to Bard's shoulder. The bird then began to warble into the Man's listening ear, Bard tilting his head unconsciously as he intently listened.

The other Men looked confused and shot one another looks, not understanding the Thrush's language. Nor why the their leader, Bard, the Dwarves and the Elves all silently listened to this strange bird as if it was actually talking. It was just a bird, right?

It was not long after that that Bard excused himself from the meeting, his part already played. As he, his men and the Thrush still on his shoulder exited the tent, his was already deciding how he would split up the treasure and the preparations needed to begin the rebuilding of Lake Town and maybe even Dale itself. The Man was also no fool, deciding that retreating was the better part of valor, for he did not want to be caught between either Kings in the confrontation he knew about to take place.

From where he sat, Gandalf quietly watched Bard go, not blaming him as he turned to watch Thranduil and Dain finally face one another.

"It was an honor to fight with you as allies, Thranduil."

"As was with you, Dain," Thranduil agreed in turn, with a gracious nod of his golden head.

"I grew up with stories of your honorable sire, my ancestors that fought in the Last Alliance came home bearing stories of the ferocity of your father and his troops. His bravery is legendary in our stories."

Thranduil again graciously inclined his head at the pleasantries, but his flashing eyes remained cool and seem to stare right through the Dwarf before him. Dain had truly meant the complement, but he was careful not to mention that Oropher was also greatly remembered for his reckless and foolish pride. His story told as a lesson to young Dwarves not to let pride and foolishness rule their actions.

Dain then turned to one of the armored Dwarves flanking him and barked an order in Khuzdul, the red haired warrior immediately bowed and did as ordered and walked out of the tent. A moment later he returned leading many other Dwarves in, each carrying a large gilded chest that would have taken four strong Men to carry and sat them before the Elf King. The Elves and Gandalf silently watched as the quiet Dwarves and the many chests seem to fill up the space in the tent.

"Take this agreed upon portion of the treasure as my late cousin had agreed to and may we be allies in times of both need and plenty," Dain said graciously to Thranduil, gesturing with a powerful arm to the heavy chests. At this gesture the Dwarves that had carried them in stepped forward and opened the lids before filing out of the tent. Each chest was filled with wondrous treasure, with many white gems and jewels, including the dazzling emeralds of Girion that seem to flash with a fire all their own.

Thranduil could not help but lean forward in his chair as he looked down at the treasure sprawled before him. Yet it was not for greed that his pulse quickened and his eyes widened, for he did not see simple treasure to enrich his treasury, but a means to feed his people. A means to buy desperately need supplies and restock Mirkwood's almost bare armories, a means to help fortify them against their struggles against the darkness plaguing their forest.

However the easy look on Dain's handsome face shifted to became an unreadable mask, his dark eyes became hard, once more the fierce warrior King that they had all seen during the battle.

"I wish for us to be allies, King Thranduil. To work together, be it in trade or defense against the dark forces," he said in his deep rumbling voice, his eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire. His tone immediately causing Thranduil's gem-like eyes to narrow and for him to sit up in his chair, his sons stiffening behind him.

"Yet heed my warning and hear me well O' King Thranduil of the once great forest of GreenWood. Never again wrongfully threaten or bare arms against my people or our rightful home. Or I swear to you by my honor, blood and the Valar themselves. I will do Arda a favor and burn that dark spider infested wood of yours to ash and personally have your fair head upon a pike!" He said in a frightening voice that sent a shiver down everyone's spine, even Dain's own men that stood silently behind him.

With those words the temperature in the tent seem to drop as all those watching shifted uneasily as the tense silence lengthened, the falcon perched on Thranduil's chair flapped it's wings in agitation and gave a piercing cry. While Old Roac hopped off Dain's shoulder and onto the shoulder of one of Dain's guards, he was a wise bird and knew this could go badly. Only Thranduil himself seemed unaffected, glaring down at the Dwarf before finally rising elegantly from his throne to step forward, his green cloak rustling crisply against his green and gold armor as power seeming to build around him. The very air seeming to crackle with energy as the smell of loam and ancient forests filled the air as the Elf King seem to draw his magic about him like armor. All in the tent, including the old Raven Roac, who silently watched and Gandalf himself, who had gotten to his feet. All could feel the pull of it as small flashes of light seem to glitter around the tall Elf, his power building as he walked slowly towards the Dwarf like some great hunting cat.

"I would watch my words carefully Dain, if I were you," Thranduil said in a smooth voice, ripe with ominous promise as a strange wind seem to stir in the tent, the air becoming thick with strain. "For I and my people do not take kindly to threats," he intoned ominously, stopping mere feet from the silently watching Dwarf that seemed unimpressed with the desplay.

"I tell you no threats Thranduil, just a promise," Dain stated, not braking his gaze from that of the tall Elf King before him, matching Thranduil's hard piercing gaze with equal power. After what he had seen and witnessed in his long life it would take much more then Thranduil's anger and Elven magic to frighten or intimidate him. As Thranduil stood there before him, he saw this in Dain's unwavering gaze even as the Dwarf's thick braided hair and crimson cloak snapped in the invisible wind.

"By all your people and ancestors, hear me and hear me well," Dain continued in a voice that was truly frightening to hear. Gandalf could only watch with bated breath, his ancient eyes fixed on these two powerful beings, his hand clenched white-knuckled about his twisted wooden staff. Even Legolas and his elder brothers could only stand there with wide eyes, unable to move as they watched the stand off of these two veritable forces of nature before them, their delicate pointed ears listening to the words spoken now by this frightening and powerful Dwarf Lord.

"The carnage of this battle is nothing compare to what we have both witnessed in our lives. I battled seven long years, watching as over half of my people where slaughtered in our war against the Goblins and Orc," Dain continued, his gaze never wavering from Thranduil's flashing ones. "Think what you will of me and my people, Thranduil. I care not, live in your ignorance and bitter spite for all I care! But never threaten us again. For I will have not qualms utterly destroying you and your home if you ever harm or threaten my people ever again."

Everyone in the tent seemed to be left frozen and breathless in the wake of Dain's dark words. As for Thranduil and Dain, the world seem to drop away, leaving only them standing there in front of the another. Neither backing down or giving an inch, their eyes locked together as they seem to silently speak to one another across the distance.

Dain meant every word and had the backing of one of the fiercest and best armed armies in arda to back it up. Thranduil saw this and was understandably livid at the open threat against his people and home. Yet as he stood there before this dark-haired and armored warrior so totally different from the pompous and foolish Thorin who had been dragged before his throne in Mirkwood a seeming a life-time ago. He could not deny, if rolls had been reversed he would do exactly the same if not more if he was truthful.

Suddenly the crackling tension and strange wind died away as if they had never been. For many long agonizing moments they stood there in utter silence.

"Your words are understood," Thranduil finally said, his voice as smooth as silk. The Dwarf respectfully inclined his head in understanding as all other beings in the tent seem to visible slump in relief. Including the Gray Wizard who closed his eyes and gave an audible sigh of relief, he even slumped unnoticed back onto his chair.

However both Thranduil's and Dain's guards gave noticeable starts, automatically reaching for their weapons when Dain suddenly thrust a seemingly massive muscled arm out to the tall Elven King, his large calloused and stone-like hand open. All those aside the two Kings again held their collective breath before Thranduil reached out a moment later to firmly take it. This was followed by another almost audible collective sigh of relief from all those that watched the two Kings firmly clasp one another's arms as equals and in friendship.

Two matching smiles of grudging admiration appeared simultaneously on their faces. If there was ever an Elf and Dwarf that were more similar, it was these two warrior Kings. Both fighters and powerful beings in their own right, both having to take over the unwanted and heavy mantel of rule after the devastating loss of their fathers in battle, their skill and might forged in the fires of battle and war.

"Now that that sober business has been addressed, let us look to brighter maters!" Dain suddenly laughed after they had stepped back from one another, now allies instead of opponents.

"Come, Thranduil! I have something to show you," he said, motioning for the Elf King to follow him as he walked out of the tent, his two warriors following.

Thranduil turned to share a questioning look with Gandalf and his three sons, a slender eyebrow cocked before he followed Dain outside, the others soon followed. When they were all outside in the sunshine they watched Dain, the old Raven back on his shoulder, pick up a small box that one of his guard's had been holding and hand it to Thranduil, who cautiously took it.

"To properly appreciate their true beauty, they must be seen in the light of the sun," Dain explained mysteriously as he stepped respectfully away after the tall Elf had taken the box. For a moment Thranduil seem to hesitate as he ran his long elegant fingers over the twisted silver vines and leaves that decorated the polished wood box.

"They would have been delivered, but it seems that they where a might delayed by an unexpected 'guest' to the Mountain that day," the Dwarf said ruefully, a note of sadness coming into his rich voice.

Thranduil undid the latch and opened the beautifully tooled box to reveal a delicate necklace of crawling gold vines with white diamond flowers and tear drop emerald earrings resting on a bed of dark velvet. The wondrous jewels flashing brilliantly, seeming to burn from within with their own blinding light, clearly destined to decorate the head and throat of a Queen. A lost Elven Queen of GreenWood, who would never wear them.

As Thranduil stood there silently gazing at the contents of the box, all the other Elves that saw what it contained dropped their eyes in remembered sadness, including Legolas who stood silently by Gandalf. His emerald eyes full of terrible remembered sorrow as he unconsciously lowered his gaze, his dark hair partly veiling his pale delicate face. After a long moment the golden-haired King turned to give the silently watching Dain a long searching look, the jewels he held casting prisms of light on his beautiful and aristocratic face.

Seeing the look, Dain only gave an good natured chuckle, a mysterious gleam in his dark eyes before simply giving the tall Elf a small bow. "If you'll excuse me, Thranduil. I must meet with the Lord of the Eagles and his people." Which was the only thing he said before turning to the Istari.

"Gandalf?" He motioned for the Wizard to join him, who gave a nod before doing so. Once again he was to play moderator, now between the Eagles and the Dwarves.

Without another word the striking Dwarf King turned and walked away, Gandalf and his guards following after. Leaving Thranduil and his sons to silently watch them march away, heading back to the Mountain that towered over them as the rest of the Elves in the sprawling camp quickly (and wisely) got out of their way.

Next Chapter: Ok, it's going to be next chapter that Gimli and Gloin will be reunited, I promise!

This chapter was originally going to be part of a bigger one, but at the last minuet I decided to split it up (the chapter would have been too long other wise).

(1.) Iglishmek the silent sigh language of the Dwarves.

(2.) This is just a little scene in homage to Salsify's great fic, "Dinner Guests"

(3.) "-they suffer toil and hunger and hurt of body more hardily then all other speaking peoples-" (pg.39. Ch.2 Of Aule and Yavanna, Silmarillion.)