Wow, so it has been a while since I last posted. Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews and motivation to get this next chapter out. I am determined to finish this story sometime this century! Please forgive any lapses or weird writing in this chapter. I am a bit rusty as I haven't had time to write for fun in months. Let me know what you think :) We have some pretty major stuff going down in the next chapter!
Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry… and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I am nearing the end of my time here in Ered Luin. Every farmer has accepted my offer and pledged their continued support of Erebor. They are praising Mahal for the freedom that King Thorin has given them at last. Vara left more than a week ago for Erebor with her mother and their guard. I told them that they should wait a few weeks to travel with me, but they wish to reach Erebor by the New Year. I should follow soon after. It will be good to be home once more. – Fili
Thorin Oakenshield was not a dwarf possessed by the foolish notion that Mahal would cast favor upon those who had suffered the most. But for once in his long life, he felt that the creator had finally listened to his prayers. The king was coming into his own, so to speak, and this time his fortune was not gold.
With news of re-written contracts arriving each day, Fili would soon be able to return home, and Brasi could be removed from his council – from the mountain, even - for good. Furthermore, with that greedy dwarf lord managing the construction project, production had increased dramatically. The project was expected to be complete by Durin's day.
But all of this progress was not without its costs. Thorin was aware that fewer men worked on the project than when it first began. Discontent rose amongst the citizens of Dale, as it does during periods of famine. On more than one occasion it was reported that slurs and threats were cast towards any dwarf entering Dale wearing the blues or reds of Thorin's and Dain's soldiers. Fights in taverns were increasing in frequency to the point that dwarves were forbidden from entering Dale's establishments unless absolutely necessary.
It was never Thorin's intentions to again profit from Dale's misfortune, but until he held tangible evidence of Brasi's deceit, there was nothing he could do to unseat the dwarf lord. His councilors were either blind or willfully ignorant to Brasi's schemes, and for every report he received of another man removed from the payroll, the fat lords on his council chuckled and applauded Brasi for a job well done.
With luck, though, the newest message in Hfran's writing, sitting on his desk while Fili's true message was tucked safely away in his breast pocket, would be Brasi's downfall. Thorin despised traitors and spies, and it was only by the grace of politics that Brasi had not found himself drawn and quartered, a warning for all who dreamed of questioning their king. But Thorin was not a tyrant, and cursed any and all who dared to call him by such a name.
Despite the growing animosity between men and dwarves, Thorin did not find himself unwelcomed as he walked with Bard through the vendor-lined street. It had been nearly four weeks since Signi began her service in Dale, and the difference she had made was evident on the face of every healthy child playing between market stalls and every mother selling her wares. The harvest had begun, and though it remained paltry compared to the days of old, it was the most food their fields had produced in the years following Smaug's destruction. Sacks of rye, barely, and oats were for sale at a fair price. Fall vegetables, squash, and the last of summer berries covered tables, ready for purchase. Salt packed pork from the Iron Hills and smoked fish from Long Lake were available to keep the people fed through the long winter. It was not enough to trade, but would the citizens of Dale were sure to see spring.
"Lady Signi has certainly transformed our city," Bard said, his lips twisting into a sly smile. Thorin felt his guts clench at the sound of her name on another man's lips, but did not reply. His affections for the lass were no longer his own, it seemed. "She has worked tirelessly with her ladies to heal our sick. I have never seen such dedication. Even my Sigrid has followed suit and works long into the night stitching veils and grinding herbs."
"Signi can be quite determined when she wants to," Thorin replied, his own smirk forming as he recalled their numerous disputes over the months of their acquaintance. Signi could be as bull-headed as a Dain when she wished, but her compassion was unrivaled in its tenacity.
"Aye, that she is. I fail to understand the stubbornness of dwarves in most instances, as I am sure you are aware –"
"I am," Thorin chuckled. Bard had dealt with not one, but thirteen stubborn dwarves a few years before, and no amount of grousing and growling on their part could sway the man from trying to stop them in taking back Erebor.
"But in Signi's case I can sympathize," Bard continued, his face growing somber as he spoke. "The sickness still lingers in some neighborhoods. I understand what she is feeling, her need to do whatever it takes to aide in their recovery, no matter the personal costs. I understand because I feel it too."
"But?" Thorin asked, the word catching in his throat as dread gnawed at him. He knew Bard's concerns as they had long been his own.
"But, I am concerned for her safety. There is trouble coming, I can feel it. The men will not tolerate Brasi or Stonehelm much longer. They have no intentions of harming Signi or her ladies, but I worry that the day might come when someone is foolish enough to mistake her actions for the greed of lesser dwarves."
Thorin held back the curse forming on his lips, his anger growing at the man's words. His very fears were reaching actuality and he was nearly powerless against them. Signi would sooner lop off her own braids than stop her efforts when she was so close to completion. And until he had proof of their wrong-doing, Brasi and Stonehelm were not going anywhere.
"I will take care of this," he finally said, his words coming out harsher than intended.
Bard smiled faintly, his gaze drifting over Thorin's determined profile. "I have no doubt that you will.
Four weeks after Signi began her rounds healing the sick citizens of Dale, a noticeable shift in her once grateful patients made her truly begin to fear for her safety. At first she tried to deny it, blaming the change on Thorin's baseless worries creeping through her mind. But on more than one occasion, when faced with a man who had taken too much ale, or a woman whose child had cried through the night without dinner to fill his belly, Signi found herself seeking the comforting weight of her daggers in their holster. Although there had been no actual threats made, she felt safer knowing that she could protect herself if the need arose.
But she could not ignore the change much longer, and only after Sigrid recommended that she not send dwarrowdams to the homes of men who recently lost their jobs on the construction site, did she feel the urge to go back to Erebor and not return.
"Do you know what is going on?" Signi asked one evening as she and Sigrid shared a bottle of wine in the King's House. They dared not share a drink too often, but at the end of each long week it was a necessary way to save their sanity. They had nearly eradicated the sickness, saving more lives than they could ever hope to. But they could do nothing to eliminate the crippling poverty that continued to plague the city. "Why have these men lost their jobs? Why are they becoming more hostile toward my people?"
Sigrid's expression was grim, as her father's often was. "They say that it is Lord Brasi and Captain Stonehelm," she said slowly as she studied her wineglass, carefully avoiding Signi's questioning stare. "Stonehelm has ordered that those who complete the most work may eat first. Of course you know how much more the dwarves can do than our men, and how much more they eat. Our men get nothing but the scraps and barely have the strength for a full day of work."
"That is ridiculous!" Signi cried. "Surely Stonehelm would not make such an order. He has always been concerned about the men and making sure they have what they need."
"Apparently not since Brasi took over the management. Just last week Jon Everson was given 30 lashes by Stonehelm for taking food before his turn."
Signi felt bile rising in her throat. She took several deep breaths for composure. Sigrid was not a liar, but Stonehelm could be, and no matter how much affection Signi felt for her childhood friend, she could not defend him.
"The king must not know that this is happening," she muttered. "I don't think that Thorin expected this."
"Maybe," Sigrid shrugged. "Or maybe this is just what he is hoping for to get Brasi and Stonehelm kicked out. It is no secret that he hates the pair of them."
"Thorin may hate them, but he wouldn't toy with lives just to expose the negative aspects of a dwarf," Signi scowled. "He's the bloody king. He would put a sword through them before he would destroy all those men and their families."
Sigrid shrugged again. "Maybe. It didn't stop him a few years ago when he put all of our lives at risk just to get some gold."
Signi stood suddenly and pushed away from the table. She could not deny that Sigrid's words had merit, but she also could not see truth in them. Thorin Oakenshield was stubborn, boorish, and determined bring Erebor back into the splendor of his grandfather's kingdom. There was a time, in the years before, when Signi first met this cold and distant king, that she would have believed Sigrid's theory without a second thought. But time had changed her view of the king, and she now knew him to be kind and loyal to his people, albeit misguided in his protection of them.
"Wait," Sigrid sighed, her hand reaching for Signi's before she could leave in anger. "I meant no offense. I just mean that it is hard for us to forget that it happened once before, when King Thorin was stricken with the Dragon Sickness. He is stronger now, and a better king because of it, but you must understand how it looks to my people."
Signi sank back into her chair, her jaw tight as she considered Sigrid's words. "And what more can he do to prove to your people that he is no longer possessed by greed?"
"I'm not sure he can," Sigrid sighed. "There is stubbornness in man that rivals that of dwarves, particularly when we need someone to blame for our troubles."
"I believe that fault transcends all races," Signi said, her glare slipping away to a faint smile. Her frustration was always fleeting when talking to Sigrid.
"Aye, I'll drink to that," Sigrid laughed, clinking her glass against Signi's and throwing back the remainder of her wine. Signi chuckled as she followed suit.
"Next weekend we have a holiday, a remembrance of loved ones lost," Sigrid continued, changing the topic. "It isn't really open to outsiders, but I am pretty sure you are as good as family in this house. You should join us, Da won't mind. We will have food, and sing songs, and share ghost stories in the dark. It is so much fun. It's the night before Durin's Day, so you won't miss any of your own say you will come."
"Well, I never could pass up a good ghost story," Signi laughed. She did not miss Sigrid's comment about the holiday being open to outsiders, and wondered how likely it would be that the gatekeeper let her in with the current tensions between dwarves and men. But at the same time, she felt honored to be invited. Patting Sigrid's hand affectionately, she said, "I would love to join you for your celebration."
After being greeted at Erebor's gates by the king's private guard, Signi had every intention of stomping her way up to his study and demanding that he call off his hounds. Thorin dared to send soldiers with her after she had roamed the deepest, darkest streets of Dale for over a month with nothing more than her wits and a set of twin daggers to protect her. The people she helped each day had been more than a little appreciative for her service. Although that appreciation was waning with each day, there had not been any actual threats to her person.
"The nerve of him!" she growled at the unwavering captain before her. No doubt, he had faced his fair share of vitriol in the king's service. The other armored guards all clanked, the sound echoing deep into the entrance hall, as they shifted nervously before her, their eyes flitting over her shoulder. "I can manage perfectly well, thank you very much, without a military presence following me around the slums while I –"
"Continue to shield the truth from your king about the discord amongst the unemployed men also living in these slums, too drunk on cheap ale to keep their anger to themselves in front of a lady?"
Thorin's sharp words sliced through Signi's rant like cold steel blades forged deep below them. It took all her strength to not flinch as she slowly turned to face him. Of course he would have heard about that. News concerning Signi always travelled faster to the king's ears than an unladen thrush between the neighboring kingdoms.
Instead of the scowl she expected from him, Signi was met with an irritatingly triumphant smirk.
"I am sorry, your grace," she murmured, quickly bowing her head to hide the flush spreading across her cheeks. In the recent weeks, she had found herself more frequently in Thorin's presence, when they walked together from Dale to Erebor, or when they met in the library, and each time she found her own defenses were getting weaker and weaker. He was a changed dwarf, a compassionate dwarf, and part of her wondered if that side of him had always been there and she was too blind to see it.
"No apology necessary," he said, his head dipping as he sought her gaze. "I do not doubt your ability to defend yourself in Dale. I do, however, doubt Bard's ability to keep his men in check while my citizens are doing his dirty work. I will not risk your safety, or that of any other lady in your company, because of growing tension between our workers and theirs. "
"Of course," she acquiesced, her breath hitching as he stepped forward, his hand skimming her back as he guided her toward the massive gates. "Sigrid has been a good partner to have when traveling to those more complicated homes."
"Sigrid is a good girl and a fine princess, but she is no fighter."
"She might not agree with that statement,"Signi snorted. Not a day went by that Sigrid did not lament her title of princess.
"Oh? And which part of my statement would warrant objection?"
"I don't think that your statement is wrong by any means, but Sigrid would certainly disagree. She does not feel as though she has earned the right to be a princess, much like her father shies away from being king."
"A king, or a princess in this situation, is not a right to be earned," Thorin said, as they continued to walk down to the path leading to Dale. It appeared that he was planning to make the trip to Dale with her once again. "She was born into it whether or not she was aware."
"Technically, she was not born into it," Signi argued, unfazed by the way Thorin's brow rose at her dispute. "King Bard was selected by the people to be their King. Sigrid grew up never expecting to suddenly become royalty. Overnight she went from being nobody to being one of the most prominent women of the East. She went from caring for her family to caring for a kingdom. From hoping to marry a bargeman with more than two coins to rub together, to being one of the most sought after maidens in all of Arda. It doesn't feel right to her."
"My nephews made a similar transition, yet they seem to have managed quite well."
"But they have always known, haven't they? I would bet there wasn't a week that went by when they were growing up that you didn't remind them that they were the great-grandsons of Thror, the usurped king with a massive hoard. They spent their whole lives dreaming of returning to their homeland and reclaiming their kingdom. "
"Those are some grossly inaccurate assumptions," Thorin said, his voice firm, but otherwise calm. A conversation that would once have sent him to anger now seemed like a cordial debate. "Fili and Kili never had hope of reclaiming Erebor because Dis never allowed me to speak of it until they were grown. Even then, I did not anticipate that I would not have sons of my own to be my heirs"
"Perhaps," Signi muttered, her heart skipping a beat when she realized that Thorin referenced the possibility of fathering children. "But I still can guarantee that Sigrid does not feel any better prepared to be princess than she did before this all happened. Any young lady would feel that way if her station in life was so radically changed. "
"But you would not feel so inadequate to take on such a role if your station was so radically changed." His voice was so different with this statement, so suddenly withdrawn after their moments of openness, and yet he so earnestly sought to apply such a statement to her, that Signi could not form a response. His stony expression matched his voice and Signi found herself staring at the king, dumbfounded by this sudden shift.
A voice behind – Kili – called from the fork in the path that led to the construction site. Thorin sighed, looking over his shoulder at his nephew.
"It appears that I am needed elsewhere."
"Of course," Signi nodded, relieved to have avoided the question. "Good day, Sire."
"Good day," he replied, his hand capturing hers for just a moment and releasing as he stepped away.
Signi's hand tingled the remainder of the walk to Dale, the armored guards clanking behind her with every step.
Thorin's footsteps echoed as he moved deeper into the chamber. Gloin had worked quickly and efficiently in the early days to count and store every gold coin and gemstone, careful to shield the massive hoard from view, should his king survive his wounds. But Thorin did not need to see the treasure to know it was there. He could feel the weight of it deep in his gut. He could remember the clinking sound of coins tumbling with every footfall. He could imagine the mountains of riches in the golden light pooling at his feet. He could hear the serpent's voice rasping as he continued toward the Arkenstone, his words circling the king's mind and threatening to choke out the few remaining moments of sanity he possessed.
But Thorin was stronger – stronger than he had ever been – and no amount of wealth from Erebor's deep belly could take that away from him. Visions swam through his mind as he walked, fortifying each step closer. A crown of white gemstones sat on the mantle beside his own crown of gold. A slim figure curled against him as he slept, her dark hair spread across the pillow. Warm fire-light flickering over her smooth cheek, the long line of her neck, and her rounded shoulders. So close and yet so far away.
Thorin knew the greed had never left him. It had been his constant companion all of these years. A craving for his home he could not shake, the gold lust, a desire for a kingdom to rival his grandfathers. It was a vice that all dwarves possessed, amplified in Thorin by the madness that coursed through the sons of Durin.
But never before had Thorin felt so consumed by his greed as he did in that moment. The dragon's words meant nothing to him, the gold was simply another cold, metal ripped from the earth. All of it paled in comparison to the dwarrowdam, the queen, who had replaced his every thought.
Thorin had long given up on the idea of taking a wife or, mahal forbid, siring an heir. Not a dwarrowdam in all of Arda could turn his head away from his kingdom and the promise of gold within. Two centuries of celibacy had turned his blood cold – or so he thought. He had heard tales of the fiery lust a woman could bring man, or the blinding light elves felt when they bound their souls to another. But never had he expected at nearly two hundred years of age to have his body and mind burn at the mere thought of a lady.
The door leading to the Arkenstone opened easily with just a touch. Thorin could feel his heart pounding as he allowed the door to fall open all the way to reveal a large, dark room. With only the narrow beam of light from the door to guide him, Thorin stepped walked across the room to a stone cask. His hands shook as he carefully pushed away the heavy stone lid. White light spilled out of the cask, filling the room with its glow.
At last, he had found it, the Arkenstone was his once again.