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She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Pinpricks of starlight dotted the sky as Fili turned toward the east to honor his forefathers and the creator. Dawn had come and passed in Erebor, and the traditions of Durin's Day had begun hours ago. Many of the dwarves remaining in Ered Luin were not descendants of Durin, and therefore did not celebrate the dwarven new year. There would be no ceremonies or feasts in the western dwarven cities for Fili to join. Instead, he longed for his family as he offered his silent thanks to Mahal in the frosty woods outside of Belegost.

The journey to Ered Luin had been surprisingly smooth with only a small altercation with orcs in the Misty Mountians. Traveling with a cartload of gold did not make his efforts easier, but the small company of soldiers that traveled with him allowed them to cross the continent with speed.

Although he had grown up in these mountain halls, Ered Luin felt less like home to him than the Mirkwood did on their journey to reclaim Erebor. In just three years, Ered Luin's economy had fallen into the depths of poverty and despair. There were some who maintained their wealth – Lady Katlin was a shrewd dwarrowdam who managed her estate with a tight fist – and there were others who found opportunities in the failings of others. Fili was aware before he left Erebor that Lord Brasi had been one of these opportunists, but he could not imagine the sheer depravity of his financial gains without seeing it with his own eyes. Farmers shared stories of Brasi threatening them when they refused his offers of high interest loans to save their farms. He sent dwarves to burn their fields and to block the roads connecting their farms to the trade routes. There were even rumors that he had sent orc mercenaries through the villages to slaughter families, allowing him to take ownership of the farms that remained.

Fili was sickened by these tales, but he did not doubt their sincerity for a moment. Nor did he blame the farmers when they doubted Thorin's promise of freedom. It sounded too good to be true, and Fili found that persuading these dwarves to accept the gold was next to impossible. He supposed that this was a good way to practice his diplomacy, but the thought of taking the crown within the next 100 years turned his stomach.

Not all of the trip to Ered Luin was bad. He was fortunate enough to miss Lady Katlin as she traveled to Erebor while he was working his way through the southern villages. However, he did get to spend a great deal of time with his cousins, Lady Inga and her daughter, Lady Vara. Vara was still very young, but Fili noted that in the three years since she had reached adulthood, she had grown to be a very lovely lass. Her mother was dutiful in her education and Vara was a most accomplished dwarrowdam. Fili was often entertained after dinner with the gentle strum of her harp and her inquisitive conversation. In the days after her departure for Erebor, he found himself quite put out by the lack of her company.

In the stillness of the woods, Fili felt warmth spreading through him as he thought of his love in the east. Did she think of him? Did she feel his absence as acutely as he felt hers? He had planned to travel with Vara to be in Erebor by the new year, but a raven from Thorin gave additional orders.

Fili scowled as he remembered those orders. Erebor would have to wait a few months longer. The northern pass would be dangerous with the sheer number of orcs prowling Gundabad and moving south, but Thorin promised him an army. In just a few weeks, Fili would command 2000 troops from Ered Luin, marching them to the Thakalgund, the Exiled Kingdom, in Ered Mithrin. Raven scouts reported nearly ten times that number of orcs coming in and out of Gundabad, but Fili knew that they would be no match for the fierce dwarves.

The sun was still a faint glow on the horizon when Fili finished his prayers. Kissing the ground on which he kneeled, he murmured his final request to Yvanna. May he once more reach the halls of his forefathers, and may he finally be joined in matrimony with the dwarrowdam that would one day be the queen of Erebor, and more importantly, his wife.

Durin's Day was announced at dawn with seven chimes of the great bell that could wake the dead. Dwarves of every station and class were awake and ready to greet the morning with prayers to their maker.

Thorin sat at his desk as the bell reverberated throughout the mountain, glaring at the folded parchment sitting before him. He had not slept since his rejection, instead allowing his anger and resentment to push him as he wrote deep into the night.

His choice of words had been regrettable. Even he could admit that he had made a fool of himself. Why had he told her of his apprehensions? It would injure any dwarrowdam's pride to know that her suitor had reservations about their joining. Signi's pride was as fragile as glass, yet as unyielding as bedrock.

But it was his confession of the Arkenstone that he regretted the most. In the cold wind on top of the watchtower, Thorin had felt as though he was stripped bare before her as he told her about his attempts to take the stone once more. She was to be his wife and she deserved to know about his weakness, as well as the strength she gave. But it was cowardice that she accused him of, and like the frozen steel of Azog's blade had done before, Signi's honesty sliced right through him. 'A king does not need as stone to give him power, and he definitely doesn't need a dwarrowdam to hold his hand so he can look a powerless stone,' she had said. 'You were the last dwarf in all of Arda that I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.'

Thorin had retreated to the mountain to lick his wounds. He would allow himself that night for pity, but in the morning he would be back on his throne, his face stonier than the Hall of Kings. With his whisky gone, thanks to Dain, he turned to wine to numb the pain. One glass became two, and two glasses became four, until Thorin felt the pent up emotion of the last three years streaming down his face. He wept for his failures with Signi and in Dale. He wept for his frustration with Brasi, his council, and all those that got in his way. He wept for his people, the dwarves and dwarrowdams who counted on him for their survival. He wept for his sister-sons who would never know what it was like to not have the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders.

But Thorin's sadness did not last, and when he felt that he could weep no more, Signi's words about Stonehelm surfaced. Oh yes, Stonehelm had been very unfortunate when Thorin learned of his deeds in Ered Luin. He had wanted to run the cretin through with his sword the moment he discovered his plot, but Dain had begged that the boy be spared. Thorin knew that Signi could not be blamed for being deceived by the dwarf, but her defense of him ignited a rage in the king that could not be quenched.

He did not know what possessed him to write the letter, but the words flowed from his quill as he explained his actions, his reason for separating Fili and Lifa, and his reason for expelling Thorin Stonehelm from Ered Luin. He owed Signi nothing, not even an explanation, but the accusations that she had thrown at him had wounded him more than any man, orc, or elf had ever succeeded in doing.

Perhaps, he thought wryly as he glared at the folded letter, his pride was as brittle as her own. A fine pair they would make had she accepted his proposal.

Thorin sighed as he drank the wine that remained in his glass. He was expected in the temple in an hour's time to lead the citizens of Erebor in worship. While he doubted that anyone would notice his day old clothes and the tangles in his hair, Dis would be livid if he arrived in his present state. Nadir was perfectly capable of delivering the letter to Signi, but the thought of allowing his message to be delivered by another dwarf was more distasteful than he could bear. He would deliver the letter to her that morning, even if she was the last dwarrowdam on all of Arda that he wished to see.

Although the Khazad calendar had not been in political use since the end of the Second Age, Durin's Day remained the most important holiday to the Longbeard Clan. It was the day when the last moon of fall greeted the rising sun of winter - the Dwarven New Year. As was tradition, the day began in the wee hours of morning, when all dwarves rose to give their thanks to Mahal.

Signi had been up most of the night as she replayed Thorin's proposal in her mind over and over again. Her sister was sleeping when she finally made it back to their shared room. She felt so foolish crying over such an arrogant dwarf as Thorin Oakenshield, but there was a certain self-pity that accompanied not one, but two rejected proposals. She supposed that the stony heart within him that had prevented her sister's marriage to his nephew could help him overcome her refusal. It was gratifying that she could inspire such a strong affection in the king, despite her attempts otherwise, but feeling did nothing to soften the disgust she felt at his actions toward those she loved the most. Lifa would forever live with a broken heart, and Stonehelm would never be welcome in the halls of Erebor.

When Lifa shook her awake that morning, shortly after she had fallen into a fitful sleep, Signi knew that she did not have the strength to face the king. She rolled herself tightly in her blankets and claimed to have a sore throat. Although technically true, no illness caused the ache she felt with every swallow.

However, Bara was not sympathetic to Signi's claims of sickness and she demanded that her daughter rouse herself immediately or risk the wrath of both Mahal and her mother. Seeing the king in a hall that housed thousands did not sound so bad compared to her mother's threat.

Signi dressed quickly for the ceremony, thankful that the gowns traditionally worn for worship had high collars for modesty. She scowled in the looking glass, noting that the purple of her dress match perfectly with the shadows under eyes and fingerprints formed around her neck.

In the Temple of the Everlasting Forge, all citizens of Dale gathered join in praise of their maker. The soldiers from Dain's camp had also been granted admittance, and they gathered on the balconies above. Signi did not see Stonehelm amongst them, though she suspected that he might be sleeping off his hangover in the dungeons below. Seating was arranged by rank, which placed Lord Mikel and his family seven rows from the front. Lady Dis and Kili were seated in the front row with Lady Katlin and Lady Ana. A gap between them was most likely the spot reserved for the king.

Signi slouched in her seat as she waited for the ceremony to begin, finding more interest in watching her sisters than waiting for the king's arrival. Lifa sat beside her, her back straight and facing forward with the serene expression that seemed to be her constant façade in the recent months. Signi tilted her head as she surveyed Lifa. She supposed to those unfamiliar, such as Thorin, that Lifa might have appeared indifferent to the sudden disappearance of her lover. But Signi knew her better than anyone else and she could see the pain lingering in her gaze, and the slight grimace in her smile.

Elin sat on Signi's other side, turned toward the balcony above them and giggling far more than was appropriate in a house of worship. Three soldiers leaned over the rail, each of them taking turns making silly faces and watching to see who could get the biggest reaction out of her. Elin seemed to be dishing out her flirty smiles equally, which only led to them bickering amongst themselves. Baila was seated to Elin's left and was typically very quick to reprimand her younger sister. However, it seemed that Baila was very determinedly avoiding making eye contact with anyone in their vicinity. Signi did not take the time to puzzle that mystery out, choosing instead to dig her elbow into Elin's side and fix a severe glare on her.

The crowd fell silent as King Thorin entered the temple, taking a seat near the massive anvil at the front of the hall. Lord Balin joined him, taking a seat beside him. The forge that typically maintained a constant flame had been cold since the night before. As a time of renewal and rebirth, the ceremonial lighting of the forge had long been the most important tradition. Even in the time of exile, Thorin had maintained the practice to remind his people of their maker and their father. As the forge was only used to form ceremonial pieces, like the king's own raven crown, many of the dwarves speculated whether another year would pass without the forge being put to use.

Signi sunk lower in her seat as a hush fell over the great hall, allowing her line of vision to be obscured by the heads of those sitting in front of her. Lifa gave her a questioning glance, but Signi just rolled her eyes. With the raised seats, Thorin would spot her in the crowd in a matter of minutes, but she had no wish to see him.

Thorin's voice filled the hall as he spoke, his words rolling through the rows of the amphitheater and reaching the balcony as easily as the front row. He spoke of Mahal, the mighty smith of the Valar, and how he took up his hammer and created the dwarves in his image. He spoke of the awakening, when their creator spoke to his creations and they awoke, Durin the first to open his eyes. The story was familiar to every dwarf present, but none grew tired of it, no matter how many times they had heard it before.

When the time came for the lighting of the forge, rather than defer the task to another as his grandfather had done in the past, Thorin took the flint in hand and made the spark that would swell into a flame. Dwarves worked the mighty billows that fanned the flame into a massive fire. As they worked on lighting the flame, Thorin turned toward his kingdom to lead them in a song of praise to their maker.

Listen, smith of the heavens,

what the poet asks.

May softly come unto me

your mercy.

So I call on thee,

for you have created me.

I am thy child,

you are my Lord

Signi stood with the others as they sang, her height placing her inches above the others seated around her. At the front of the hall, Thorin caught her gaze, though his song never faltered. Signi quickly looked away, but could still feel his eyes burning on her face, searching for emotions that she was unwilling to relinquish.

The forge lighting ceremony ended soon after the song, when the flames filled the hearth and Balin led the dwarves in a final prayer. Signi could not wait to get out of the temple, silently cursing her mother for her chatty disposition.

On the way back to their rooms, Signi insisted that she felt worse than before and that she was not well enough to attend the festival that afternoon, or the ball that night. Bara, now filled with the generous spirit of their maker, decided to take pity on her daughter and excuse her from the events all together.

More than an hour had passed since Mikel and his family left their apartments to join the afternoon festival, leaving Signi behind to rest. She was thankful for their willingness to allow her this peace, but she could not stand staring at the stone walls of her room much longer. Since it was likely that she would be spotted if she went outside, Signi sought refuge in the library. Music floated through the halls of Erebor as every dwarf in the kingdom celebrated. She could hear the sounds of a distant crowd, their voices carrying from the Great Hall where most of the celebrations had shifted after the morning service. She was very much alone as she wandered the halls.

Signi was surprised when she turned the corner and spotted a dwarf standing in front of the massive library doors. If the golden crown on his head did not give away his identity, the black and silver hair spilling over thick furs eliminated any doubt. Signi did not want to see Thorin, and spun on her heel to get away as quickly as possible.

Thorin called after her, her name voiced as a command.

Freezing on the spot, Signi slowly turned to face him. His expression was unreadable as he stepped closer. He hesitated before her, raising his hand to push back the high collar of her dress. His eyes darkened with anger as he inspected the purple lines on her throat. Signi scowled as she took a step back, and Thorin's hand fell away.

"I have been waiting in the hall for some time," he said stiffly. From his pocket he produced a letter. Pushing it into her hands he said. "Will you do me the honor of reading this letter?"

Signi stared at the parchment, her lips pursed as she tried to form a response. But before the words came to her, the king had turned away and disappeared down the hall toward the sounds of celebration.

She waited until she was settled in her favorite chair in the library before opening the letter. It was two sheets of parchment filled with Thorin's neat writing.

"Do not be alarmed by receiving this letter, if you do in fact take the time to read it at all. It is not my intention to renew the sentiments expressed last night that you so vehemently opposed. I do not wish to instill in you guilt, or myself humility, as neither feeling would be genuine or desired by the both of us. Had my character not become so poorly represented, I would not have sought to correct the misinformation that you formed your present judgements upon. While I apologize for the solicitous nature of this letter, I will not apologize for taking up your time and attentions in this manner as it is justice that I demand.

"I will not dispute the accusation of cowardice that was made. You are not the only individual to have made such a claim, so I do seek to sway your opinion on such matters. However, two additional accusations were laid against me as we spoke last night, but these charges are very different in nature and magnitude. The first, your claim that I separated your sister from my nephew. The second, that despite all tenets of morality, honor, and family that I have faithfully upheld in all aspects of my life and reign, even when plagued by the cursed Dragon Sickness, that I have disowned my cousin, Thorin Stonehelm, without just cause and forced him to become nothing more than the lowly captain that he is today. To suggest that fate of Stonehelm, my own blood, is in any way comparable to that of a couple who had only known one another a few weeks, is a gross oversimplification of the two unrelated situations.

"As many others in our acquaintance have observed, I too recognized the amiable qualities that your sister, Lifa, possess. None can say that her beauty and manners would be undesirable to any young dwarrow in the kingdom. I could see from their first meeting that Fili preferred her company to any other dwarrowdam that he had met before, though there were few ladies that he had encountered before our returned to Erebor. It is because of this general inexperience on his part that I did not perceive an attachment of any permanence. In watching them at the many dinners we shared, it appeared that his attraction was greater than hers. Although Lifa did show preference for spending time with Fili over many others in the company, I saw nothing in her behavior that indicated more than friendship. Even at the ball, Lifa danced equally with the other dwarves and showed no outward appearance of pleasure toward Fili that she did not express to others. If this was a misinterpretation of her demeanor, as you stated last night, then I concede that this was an error on my part.

"My decision to send Fili away was not solely an attempt to separate him from your sister, but was instead a serendipitous opportunity that arose. Fili was sent away for a plan that will have a large and lasting impact on the kingdom. It was coincidence that the need for him to travel to Ered Luin came at a time when he was seeking to pursue the possibility of marriage. As the Crown Prince of Erebor, Fili has a responsibility to his people to marry a dwarrowdam that can carry the role of Queen as well as wife. While I do not believe that your sister is incapable of fulfilling this nearly impossible role, I felt that Fili was not thinking clearly enough to determine if she does in fact have the qualities necessary. Some time apart would be an effective way for each of them to learn more about the depth of their affection. Please understand, that there was no intention of injuring you or your sister in this situation. I lament my disparaging words against your family. They were expressed in anger, a fault of mine that you have become far too familiar with. I do not personally place my assessment of yours or Lifa's marriageable qualities on your family and their status, but it is expected that many in the kingdom will do just that.

"The other claim against me I can only refute by sharing with you the entirety of the events leading to his expulsion from Ered Luin. As you are aware, Stonehelm is the son of my cousin, Dain, and his lineage places him in the line of succession. Due to this rank, a certain level of decorum is expected on his part. Though I never expected him to uphold the standards placed upon myself and my nephews, I have always expected to follow in his father's example with honor and loyalty. As the only son of Dain, he has long been indulged, which I am sure you have seen when living in the Iron Hills. This indulgence led to many undesirable traits when he finally came of age: laziness, gambling, greed, and philandering. Dain has long claimed that Stonehelm is a dwarf possessed by the heated blood of youth, and I might have believed it, had I not seen his more sinister actions first hand.

"When I first approached Dain about making the journey to reclaim Erebor, Stonehelm was quick to volunteer his axe. I was impressed that he would be willing to make such an offer despite his father's opposition to the quest. I do not know what made me question his true motives, whether it was his insistence that my nephews not join me on the journey, or if it was his questioning of the passage of the throne to my sister-sons rather than the patriarchal line. Something made me uneasy about adding him to my company. I declined his offer, stating that he was better served by honoring his father's wishes to remain in the Iron Hills.

"Instead, Stonehelm journeyed to Ered Luin, claiming that he wished to protect the dwarves that I left behind to reclaim our kingdom. It was there, as my absence stretched beyond a year, that Stonehelm gambled his way through his own stash of gold and accumulated debts upon debts in my name. When the creditors came knocking on my sister's door, she was quick to dismiss Stonehelm from our home. He sought refuge with others in the family, but none would take him. It was my niece, Inga, whom you have not met, who finally took pity on him. She allowed him into her home and provided sufficient gold to repay his debts, which he promptly gambled away.

"I returned to Ered Luin once after reclaiming Erebor, after my recovery from the battle, and I could not have returned a moment later. When news of Smaug's death reached Ered Luin, as well as the news of mine and my nephew's injuries, Stonehelm immediately wrote to Balin detailing his claim to the throne and demanding that the treasure and crown be relinquished to him despite the fact that my breath had not yet left me. When he was refused, he turned to other schemes.

"Inga has a daughter, Vara, who is set to inherit as much gold as Fili and Kili upon her marriage. After receiving my refusal to hand over the crown, Stonehelm made his appeal to Vara, inspiring in her the most ardent and inextinguishable affection. By the time I arrived in Ered Luin, she had convinced herself that she was in love with Stonehelm and had accepted his proposal. Vara was seduced into an elopement, and it was in Bree that I discovered them. Vara did not wish to disappoint me and was quick to confess to me their plans to marry. Stonehelm escaped before I could confront him, which is fortunate because I am not sure that he would have lived past that day. Vara was not yet 30 years of age, far too young to be the victim of his attempts at revenge.

"I tell you this tale in confidence as such a tale could bring undeserved ruin and shame to my niece. You can now see why I chose not to share it with you when you first confronted me about Stonehelm's alleged mistreatment. It is no fault of your own that Stonehelm has deceived you. He has deceived many, and even I do not believe that I have discovered all of the misdeeds he has done over the years.

"If you are wondering why I did not share all of this last night, when the accusations were first laid against me, it was with great deliberation that I decided to share them with you at all. I had considered allowing the explanation to remain untold in an effort to further protect Vara. But it was perhaps my injured pride that revealed to me the importance of providing you with all of the information and allowing you to make your own judgements from there. If this letter is valueless to you, then throw it in the fire. I care not what opinion you have of me from this day forward. May Mahal bless you and your kin.

Thorin.

Some portions of the letter are similar to Mr. Darcy's letter in Pride and Prejudice, but none of it is a direct quote.

The song is the English translation of the first verse of Heyr himna smiður