"And Azaghâl, Lord of Belegost, was waylaid on his road,"
Three sets of eyes grew wide in little faces about his feet.
"Goblins?" one of them whispered.
The door beyond opened, and a woman with flour dusted across the bone of her cheek and tracing into the braids of her beard brought a small, wriggling creature into the light of his little fire.
"A hoard of the foul creatures had fallen on him as he made his way to his home."
Settling the small boy on the ground, she stood wearily straight.
Balin eyed her, and he nodded an answer to the question before she could ask it.
"They fought valiantly along that road, all noble men of his house,"
Her small boy squirmed to get past her, intent on what mischief she'd dragged him from.
Little ones could be no end of mischief. Especially in these days of the midwinter, with the Yuletide feast fast approaching.
Balin opened his arm to receive the lad.
Gratefully, she lifted the boy to him, and he received the child with a smile.
"…and though the goblins fell back in terror from the helm of Azaghâl,"
The boy liked the sound of that, and he stilled, turning wide blue eyes on Balin.
"…still they came on. And there were great losses to the Broadbeams that day."
The boy's mother went with a smile back to her baking. Batter was smeared sticky on her apron. No doubt the work of her boy.
"What happened?" the child almost on Balin's foot looked up at him, her little face pinched with worry.
"Azaghâl," Balin promised them, looking into each of their concerned faces, "was not to be slain that day, for a band of Elves were coming along that road."
"Elves," the older and darker of the two boys made a face. The other, smaller one shushed him.
"Their leader was the son of their great leader, and he might have been a king had he not, for the sins of his father, foresworn his claim."
"What did his father do?" the girl asked.
Balin looked down thoughtfully at her. "Too greedy, he was. Many thousands had died for his claims, Men and Elves, and even of the Dwarves."
She had heard of the Dragon Sickness. Balin himself had told her the story of Fafnir who loved his gold so well he had become a dragon even as the very beast he'd slain.
"This prince was not so much better than his father, and no great love bore he for the men of Belegost, but goblins were first among his hatreds and he stood beside Azaghâl that day. Valiantly they fought – Dwarves and Elves together – and the goblins were slain.
"Azaghâl, being a good lord," and Balin looked down, and noted specifically the smaller of the boys at his feet, for the lad had blood from Ered Luin – most directly descended among the Families from the lost stronghold of Belegost. "Would show his thanks for timely aid in no less display than the gifting to that Elvish prince of the greatest thing in his possession."
The little girl gasped, and Balin nodded his head.
"Aye, he made a gift to that prince of the Dragon-helm forged by Telchar, smith of Nogrod, and proudly did that prince bear it for some time following, and well it served him. And friendship grew then, between Azaghâl, and the Elves of that region."
"Is that why there are Elves in the West who are friends of the Dwarves?" one asked, and, "Will Thranduil be our friend now that we gave him jewels?" asked another.
Balin nodded his head to both. "Aa well as it is proof that our peoples are not so different in our wants. Friendship can be fostered by generosity – between both kings, and the common folk. It is a good lesson to remember when the winter settles over the land."
The little girl smiled at him. "Tell us another story, Grandfather,"
Balin took a long breath. This children watched him expectantly.
Balin looked back at each in turn, his eyes twinkling.
Truly, the wealth of Erebor was growing by the year.
And he began again.