Thank Mahal for snow days! Another day off of work gave me time to get another chapter ready and posted. I have a bunch of paperwork coming up again, so I am not sure how soon I will be able to post the next chapter.
I forgot to credit the lovely Jane Austen for her part in the conversation between Thorin and Signi in the last chapter.
Here is a bit of fluff to lighten up after all of the fighting in the last chapter. Your reviews/favs/follows are what keep me going. I appreciate all of the kind words and thoughts with each chapter. Enjoy :)
"She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man."―Jane Austen,Pride and Prejudice
It was late afternoon and Lifa found herself avoiding afternoon tea for the third time in one week. Whatever fondness she had for the new ladies of Erebor had faded the moment Lady Miri set her sights on Prince Fili. There was little that Lifa could do or say as Miri gushed each afternoon about the prince's handsome beard and his skill with the sword.
Miri was the daughter of Lord Brasi and it was said that her father had funded Ered Luin's massive army for several years. Such a strong financial backer would make a fine ally for Erebor. She was a lovely girl of 41 with thick black braids and emerald eyes. Her manners were well practiced and she spoke with a gentle tone that required the listener to lean in so they might catch what she was saying. Lifa had seen her use this voice a time or two in hall when she spoke with Fili. His polite smile never reached his eyes in these interactions, but that did not stop jealousy from coursing through her veins. Too bad he had not the opportunity to see the true Miri who spoke with a course brogue at tea and howled at her own raunchy jokes.
Lifa did not know where she was heading when she went outside; she just had to get out of the mountain to clear her head. Sometimes she wondered if Signi was right. The deep dark halls of Erebor fostered dark thoughts and often brought out the worst in a person. Although her thoughts were justified, jealousy was unbecoming in a lady. Lifa did not want to be harboring feelings of envy about Fili and Miri when she gave the first two dances to the prince at the ball.
The sun was hot and heavy in the sky, its rays shimmering in the thick, humid air. In the distance, billowing white and gray clouds rumbled. A storm was approaching, but it seemed to be several miles away.
Despite the threat of rain, Lifa made her way to western side of the mountain near the tree that she and Fili had dined under a few weeks before. A blush crept onto her cheeks when she remembered how they had lain on the blanket, her head on his shoulder, as he played with her curls. Too bad Miri could not see that.
Wildflowers were in bloom along the hillside – innocent white daisies, black-eyed susies, and little blue chicory buds. These were Lifa's favorites. She loved the wildflowers that carpeted the Iron Hills far more than any rose in Dain's gardens. Running her fingers over the blooms, she began to pluck daisies, careful to choose the biggest and brightest flowers.
When her hands were filled with a thick bouquet, Lifa went to sit at the base of the oak and rested her back against the tree. The day was warm and sticky, even in the shade, so Lifa pulled her skirts to her knees and pushed her sleeves above her elbows. The daisies lay scattered on her lap as she reached up and braided her long hair off the back of her neck.
All thoughts of Miri were lost as she sat under the tree, her belly tingling once more at the memory of Fili. The king was in the midst of some scheme or another and he demanded the prince's attention all hours of the day. For moment, Lifa thought that this was a preview of her life after she and Fili were married, that he would spend long hours in counsel with the king while she occupied her time with the silliness of court ladies. As soon as the thought appeared Lifa squashed it down embarrassed that it had even surfaced.
Despite her momentary lapse, Lifa was much more content outside of the mountain. Humming a favored tune, she began to string the daisies together in a chain. It was menial work, but it distracted her enough to not notice the approaching dwarf.
"There is a storm coming," Fili said when his boots came to a stop beside her. The clouds emitted a loud rumble over his shoulder to illustrate his point.
Lifa smiled up at him from her work. "It is still miles away. I think we can safely spend a few more minutes in the sun."
Fili chuckled in agreement and settled himself beside her, his back resting against the tree as well. His eyes roved down her skirts and settled on the exposed length of her legs. Flushing, Lifa quickly yanked her skirts back down to her ankles.
"You needn't do that on my account," he teased. His voice was light, but the heated look in his eye made the tingling in Lifa's belly grow. Mahal, her traitorous body was determined to make her brain forget all of those lessons of decency that her mother had beat her over the head with.
"Do not tempt me," she said, casting Fili a side-long flirty look. "This heat wave that the storm is bringing in makes these long skirts unbearable."
"Are you sure it is the storm bringing the heat wave?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"I am quite sure," Lifa retorted. She tried valiantly to bite back her silly grin but it was too fierce an opponent. The prince brought out her most ridiculous traits it seemed. The fact that he came back for more despite her silliness gave her almost enough hope to shirk Miri's boasts of his company.
"I did not expect to find you out here. Signi said that you usually take tea with the other ladies in the afternoon," Fili said as he raised his hand to capture an errant coppery curl. His rough fingers brushed against the side of her neck and Lifa breathed in sharply to calm the wriggling mess her stomach had become.
"I usually do take tea with them, but there is only so much mindless chatter I can stand," she grumbled. Her fingers continued to work on the daisy chain in her lap, but in her irritation she managed to break the head off of one of the daisies.
"Careful, my Lady," admonished Fili, releasing her hair to catch the flower before it tumbled to the ground. "What did this poor fellow do to warrant such an execution?"
Lifa snorted at his antics. "My apologies to Mister Daisy. I was distracted by thoughts of the schemes of ladies. I must warn you, Lady Miri is determined to secure your attentions for the entirety of the ball on Saturday. She claims that her plans are absolutely fool proof."
Fili made a disgusted sound and twisted his mouth into a scowl. "Lady Miri will not capture a minute of my time at the ball."
Lifa suppressed the triumphant grin that threatened to surface. It was a small victory, but she would take all she could get. "I do believe she has planned this well. She will watch for any moment to capture you alone and will all but chain you to her side."
Fili's eyes blazed. Grabbing Lifa's hand, he tangled his fingers in hers and squeezed tightly. "She will not capture me alone if I have you by my side," he said. His voice carried a raw edge that Lifa had not heard before but it thrilled her to her very core.
"As you wish, my Lord," she breathed, returning his affections by squeezing his hand in return.
Fili beamed and brought her hand to his lips, peppering it with kisses to her wrist. Lifa giggled and squirmed out of his grip. His attentions were too much and she was not sure how much longer she would be able to resist him if he moved his lips somewhere other than her hand.
Picking up the daisy chain that lay forgotten on her lap, Fili quickly formed a loop and knotted the stems to hold it in place. Kneeling beside her, he gently set daisy crown on her flaming locks.
"Now you are a princess," he said, his eyes settling warmly on her shocked expression and rosy cheeks. "And lovelier princess than Erebor has ever seen before."
Lifa did not know how to respond. She must have looked like a red-faced fish as she tried to find the words. Fili was playing, nothing more, but her mind could not help lingering on the hidden meaning in his words. He was a prince and he deemed her princess. Whatever his intent, his words made her heart race and stomach drop like lead.
Fili chuckled at her expression, but made no further comment. Flopping down to lay on the grass, he boldly rested his head on her thigh. Lifa nearly jumped at the contact, but managed to stay still.
Looking up from her lap he said, "Sing me that song, the one you were humming when I found you."
Lifa thought back to what she was doing moments before when he first arrived. Remembering the song, she leaned her head against the tree and buried her fingers in his blond locks. Fili turned on his side, his head remaining on her lap, and he began tracing the embroidered pattern on her skirts with his fingertips as she sang.
I'll twine 'mid the ringlets
Of my raven black hair,
The lilies so pale
And the roses so fair,
The myrtle so bright
With an emerald hue,
And the pale aronatus
With eyes of bright blue.
I'll sing, and I'll dance,
My laugh shall be gay,
I'll cease this wild weeping
Drive sorrow away,
Tho' my heart is now breaking,
He never shall know,
That his name made me tremble
And my pale cheeks to glow.
I'll think of him never
I'll be wildly gay,
I'll charm ev'ry heart
And the crowd I will sway,
I'll live yet to see him
Regret the dark hour
When he won, then neglected,
The frail wildwood flower.
He told me he loved me,
And promis'd to love,
Through ill and misfortune,
All others above,
Another has won him,
Ah! misery to tell;
He left me in silence
No word of farewell!
He taught me to love him,
He call'd me his flower
That blossom'd for him
All the brighter each hour;
But I woke from my dreaming,
My idol was clay;
My visions of love
Have all faded away. *
Fat raindrops fell between the branches of the oak and plopped wetly on Fili and Lifa as she sang the final notes of her song. Fili had rolled to face her mid song and caressed her cheek with a warm hand, keeping her eyes trained on his as she sang. He did not spout praises as he did when she sang before the company, nor did he cling tightly to her hand and beg for more sweet songs. Instead he sat slowly, his hand still on her cheek, drawing her nearer to him as he moved.
The rain was falling harder and urgent drops plastered her curls to her neck, but Lifa was frozen beneath the tree with Fili. She held her breath as he approached, his hand moving from her cheek to sink into her thick braid where it had loosened behind her ear. She did not know his motives, but she dared to hope when he pressed his forehead to hers, the tip of his nose brushing hers as he moved. So little space was between them and Lifa desperately wanted to close the gap, but she waited, mentally begging him to bring his lips to hers.
A bright flash behind Fili, followed immediately by the loud clash of thunder, brought the prince out of his trance. The storm was far too close for safety. Cursing Mahal and Durin both for the interruption, Fili grabbed Lifa's hand and dragged her away from the base of the tree. Together they ran back to the mountain through sheets of rain. It was impossible to see, so Lifa clung tightly to Fili's hand and prayed that he knew where they were going.
They finally reached the gates just as the guards were closing the massive doors. Lifa shivered in the chilly front hall, daisy crown still intact, her white lawn gown completely soaked through and sticking to her like second skin. Fili's tunic was in a similar state and Lifa noted appreciatively how it molded around his strong shoulders and rounded biceps.
Casting a wary glance at the guards standing beside the door watching the couple with interest, Fili stepped forward and ran his hands down Lifa's arms in an effort to warm them.
"I am sorry our time was cut short again," he said in a low voice. Lifa felt her pulse fluttering at his tone. He did not need to say the words – she could hear the frustration in voice and it matched the frustration coiling in her belly.
"Maybe another time," she whispered, her eyes willing him to understand.
Fili gave her a wolfish grin and raised her hand to his lips. "Yes, another time. Go get warm by your fire. I shall see you soon, Lifa."
Lifa watched him go, ignoring the smirks shared between the guardsmen at the door. He walked with such confidence, proud and straight, just as a future king should. She watched him far too long, but whatever strength she possessed to turn away was leached away with each step he took. Mahal, she thought when she finally fled the hall, even his strut made her melt like gold in the roaring forges below.
It was just after dawn when word arrived that Dain had reached Esgaroth. The mountain buzzed with last minute preparations to greet the Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin barked orders to servants and guards as he thundered through the halls. It would be Dain's first visit to Erebor since the battle and Thorin wanted everything to be perfect. Reconstruction of the upper halls had been completed months ago, but it seemed that every cracked stone or unlit sconce captured the king's attention.
Dain travelled with a large company, some 500 soldiers at Thorin's request. Like the caravan before, barges from Dale would be hired to transport the dwarves across the lake. Greedy anger rose in Thorin's chest when he thought of Erebor gold passing into the boatmen's hands, ten pieces per trip across the lake. As quickly as it appeared, Thorin braced himself against the cool stone wall and pressed his fist to his mouth until the nausea passed. He was thankful that he was alone in this moment of weakness.
Steeling himself lest the sickness should return, Thorin resumed his stride and turned his thoughts to the guests that would be at his gates that afternoon.
In passing, Dain mentioned that he would be bringing his record keeper with him to this meeting. Mikel Wordsmith was an expert in contracts and diplomacy, but it was his daughters that brought him to Erebor. Thorin preferred to think that his uneasiness was brought on by the task that he was working on with Dain, but it was thoughts of Mikel that made his jaw clench.
He was not known to be a formidable or intimidating dwarf, quite the opposite really with his lean stature and ever calm voice. Knowing this, Thorin could not explain the leaping sensation in the pit of his stomach or the niggling worries that Mikel would not approve of him or his kingdom. The feeling seemed to mirror that of the first time he entered Erebor to face Smaug, or when he was brought before the Master of Esgaroth. Some would call it nervousness, but Thorin Oakenshield had never been nervous a moment in his life.
In some ways, Thorin was eager to see how Mikel interacted with his daughters. Would he greet them with smile and a nod? Would he wrap them in his arms as only a father would? Fili and Kili were too old for such hugs, but Thorin often found himself missing the days when they would clamor on his lap and beg for tales of slaying orcs. Dis said he was corrupting their young minds with such stories, but she never dared to draw them away.
But how would the girls receive Dain? He did not know how close Lifa was to his cousin, but her relationship did not concern him. It was Signi that made him scowl into the darkness of the corridor. Dain spoke of Signi often before she came to the mountain and his letters usually included an inquiring line asking about how she fared in Thorin's company. In response to one of these recent letters, Thorin had written that he found Dain's constant inquiries out of line for a married dwarf. He regretted that of course, blaming the extra ale he had at dinner for the impassioned retort, but Dain's reply did little to sooth his irritation. She was like a daughter to him, Dain claimed, and his asking was more for young Thorin Stonehelm than himself. Thorin tossed that letter into the flames shortly after reading it.
The king could see his sister standing on the balcony before him looking down at the workers polishing the black marble floors of the entrance hall. It was an unnecessary measure as the stone would be muddied once more by the first dwarves that walked through the gates, but he wanted it to be perfect.
Dis had been quiet for over a week, dutifully avoiding all company and conversation. Thorin knew what bought on this sullenness and found it positively absurd that he was still harboring hard feelings toward Signi. She called him a stubborn old dwarf all the time, but he never clung to petty disagreements days after they came to light. At least that is what he believed – she would argue that he was far worse than her in his grudges.
"Don't you think you have spent enough time pouting," he said gruffly, leaning on the railing beside his sister.
Dis did not turn to him, her jaw set defiantly. "I am not pouting."
"Yes you are," he grumbled. "It is just like the time Frerin quit throwing his shots and finally beat you in an archery contest."
Dis' eyes flashed and she met the king with a fearsome scowl much like his own. "He did not throw his shots," she growled.
"Yes he did," snorted Thorin. "And you knew it. You begged him to give it his best effort and pouted like a child when he beat you."
"I was a child," she muttered, looking away once more. Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin could see the smirk threatening to overtake her lips. He knew his sister well. Memories of their brother and younger days could always draw her from the worst of moods.
"I know why you and Signi fought," he sighed. "She told me after some prodding," he added when Dis turned her piercing glare on him.
"Then you know why I am not happy with you at the moment as well," she snapped.
"You are never happy with me," he growled. "And I don't care what you think about how I have handled Kili's behavior. What I do care about is that you have wrongly placed your anger on Signi and you should apologize straight away."
"She poked her nose in matters that do not concern her," Dis sputtered indignantly.
Thorin rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you never do that. Just apologize and resume your lessons. I can't have my sister getting killed on the road because her pride impeded her instruction in swordsmanship."
Without waiting for Dis' reply, Thorin pushed away from the balcony and resumed his walk down the hall. The ladies of Erebor made his head throb and yet he couldn't stand the thought of living in the mountain without them.
As predicted, Dain arrived just after lunch. A crowd gathered in the great hall to greet him with Thorin at the helm, his nephews and sister flanking him on either side. Signi and Lifa also stood not far away ready to greet their father.
Dain's laughter was heard long before his clanking footsteps on the stone bridge. Despite the summer heat, the old warrior had donned himself head to toe in armor. His loyal battle hog squealed in the distance as four Erebor stable hands tried to tether it within the stables. He crossed the threshold first, followed closely by two dwarves and half a dozen of his personal guard.
"Thorin!" Dain roared as he sauntered across the hall, "You are looking mighty fat these days. Trying to beat Ol' Smaug for the title of slug under the mountain?"
Thorin laughed and clapped Dain on the back. "Oh I can't claim that as long as you are here. How many links have you added to that belt since I last saw you?"
Signi rolled her eyes at the dwarves greeting. She never understood their need to insult each other the moment they set eyes on one another. Two years had passed since they last met and the first thing they did was accuse the other of getting fat.
"Ravishing as ever, Dis," continued Dain, bowing before the king's sister and kissing her hand. The action was cut short by Thorin's low growl of disapproval.
Turning to Fili and Kili, Dain clapped them each on the shoulder, laughing when they winced and their knees nearly buckled under his heavy palms. "You boys are looking near grown. Taking on a dragon will make a dwarf out of you yet."
The crowd tittered nervously at Dain's teasing. He was such an unpredictable dwarf they never knew who he was going to turn his good-humored ribbing on next.
Finally turning to the girls, he gave them both a polite bow and cheeky grin. "My ladies, how you have blossomed in Erebor. Perhaps one of these dwarves had something to do with that," he chided, winking in the direction of Fili and Kili. Beside her, Lifa blushed at his insinuation, but Signi wrinkled her nose in distaste. She certainly had not "blossomed" in her time under the mountain, and she was not about to give the king something besides her eyes to consider fine.
"I brought someone with me," Dain continued, his eyes twinkling. Stepping away from the girls, he revealed their father standing behind him. Mikel was tall for a dwarf, much taller than Dain, and lean like a young willow. His hair was brown and smooth like Signi's and his beard was fine against his hollow cheeks. Such an odd looking dwarf, but welcome sight for his two daughters.
Both girls ran to him straight away, throwing themselves in his arms like children. "Papa!" they chorused as he was nearly bowled over with their combined weight.
"Have you missed me?" he chortled as squeezed them tightly and kissed the tops of their heads.
Drawing away, he turned their attention to the dwarf standing a few feet away. "Girls, I would like you to meet my friend Vifil. He was in the Iron Hills when we received word to come and has business with the king as well. Viful, these are my eldest daughters, Lifa and Signi."
The dwarf standing before them was short and squat with a prominent forehead, thick bushy brows, and round red nose that stood like a tomato against his furry face. His beard was uneven and a putrid yellowish brown. It was impossible to guess his age, but Signi had the sinking feeling that it was close to her own.
He bowed before the girls, his beard brushing the floor, nearly tripping over his own feet in enthusiasm. "It is an honor to meet the most esteemed daughters of Mikel Wordsmith," he said, his voice unusually high.
Signi felt her stomach turn when he grasped each of their hands and pressed his lips to their knuckles. Fili's irritated grunt broke Vifil's attention to Lifa's hand. Signi gave the prince a sympathetic smile before catching sight of the King's own murderous glare. It seemed that their father's friend was not well-received by the royals of Erebor. Based on Mikel's downward turned lips, he was not a welcome companion of their father's either.
"Yes, well now that the hellos are all that is out of the way let us have a drink," Dain roared, clanking his way past Thorin and up the stairs as though he was heading for the king's study.
Signi watched with amusement as Thorin rolled his eyes and turned to follow his cousin. For a moment, his gaze paused on Signi, softening with a rare smile and nod. The sentiment was brief, disappearing as quickly as he relinquished it, but Signi managed a short nod in return before he was gone.
She tried to listen to Lifa's prattle as they led their father to Gloin's home, but her blood was rushing too loudly in her ears to register what they were saying. Something about the king's icy gaze paired with the strangely warm smile sent her heart pounding and goose pimples prickling the skin on her arms. She blamed Dis' comments from weeks before and Dain's teasing. Both of them were shameless meddlers.
Shaking all thoughts of the king from her mind, Signi turned her attention to Vifil's inquiries beside her. He was a strange little dwarf, but he was distraction from whatever sensations the king brought within her.
* I'll Twine Mid the Ringlets – the original version that inspired Wildwood Flower by the Carter Family. Sorry it is so long, I just didn't want to cut out any of the verses!