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The rise of a King

Thorin's palms steadied the strings of the harp and the magical flow of music into his chambers stopped. His eyes fell on his nephews that were sitting in front of the fire. They didn't seem bothered by all these men that had just arrived and were looking heavily at Thorin, neither that their uncle had stopped playing their favourite song. Young Kili was struggling to write down his name in the Angerthas-Erebor variation of Cirth and Fili was helping him. "Must I tell my sister to take the boys?" Thorin's voice was almost grim with certainty of dark news. His eyes lingered on Balin and Dwalin that were one step ahead with their heads bowed.

"Thorin, we need to talk now..." Dwalin took a step forth, but Balin's hand fell on his brother's arm and stopped him.

He turned at Thorin, "It would be wise to call Dis first".

He looked at Bjarki, his first commander in the absence of Dwalin and said, "bring her here". The man bowed and left quickly. "Did you just arrive?" He said and pushed back the harp.

"Yes laddie", Balin said and looked at his feet defeated.

Thorin shook his head and turned towards the boys. He had a lot of questions, but none was wise to be addressed in front of his nephews, "Fili my son, come here and bring me Kili's book. Let me see what you both did with the name", he said calmly, knowing that the storm was right there waiting for him in the form of five demanding looking dwarf-lords.

His older nephew looked up and smiled. Then he took Kili's book that said, "Hey! I haven't finished!" And brought it over to Thorin for inspection.

"This line is too perpendicular to that one…it looks like a cross not the rune of the letter -L-. Needs to be slightly angular, like this", Thorin frowned at the scribbled runes and showed Fili the mistake just as Kili burrowed between them to have a better look, "…This one is pretty much alright, but you need to work on your calligraphy. See? At the end of this line up there, you have to make a small star, like this…", he worked over Kili's try.

"Oh, right…." Kili's mouth dropped open and Fili slapped him on the back of the head.

"Told you to do it that way and you didn't want to, idiot!"

"Hey! Don't hit me!" Kili cried and pushed Fili back.

Thorin's lips pursed and he closed his eyes patiently, "Not now lads, we have people present", he steadied Fili and grabbed Kili by the arm holding him away from his brother. They looked at the door, but it was only Fili that frowned deeply. His age allowed him to feel the difference of this night to all the others that Thorin helped them study runes and calculations. Kili was looking at the newcomers with a bewildered stare and his finger poking his nose.

"What are all these people doing here uncle?" Fili looked up to him clearly worried.

The stormy entrance of his sister didn't allow him an answer though.

"What's the matter Thorin? Are the boys alright?" She asked out of breath, "I was with Oda at the Southeastern Halls. We had a small medical emergency with a newborn".

Her brother pursed his lips "I need you to take the kids".

She felt waves of apprehension running through her spine as she looked over at the five solemn faces, but her eyes remained on the two at the forefront. Instantly she asked the question that Thorin had avoided, "Balin, Dwalin when did you arrive, where is dad?"

Dwalin averted his eyes and Balin looked at her mournfully, but they both remained silent.

She frowned, "Why are you looking at me like that? Where is Thrain?" Her voice dropped.

"Uncle what's the matter?" Fili grabbed his forearm and his eyes were full of dread. Small Kili instantly leaned his body on Thorin and tried to climb on his lap, not yet able to understand, but able enough to feel the shift of energy in the room.

"I don't think it's proper to discuss this in front of the children", Balin tilted his head at their direction.

"Where the hell is my father?" Her voice broke and her fiery eyes pierced through him.

Balin turned at him, "Thorin can you please handle this?"

He stood up and walked over as imposing as ever, even though he had little Kili in his arms and was holding Fili by the hand, "Dis, take your children to bed and allow me the time to have my official report".

Dis's eyes welled and she looked up at him terrified, "Tell me he didn't die…." her voice was diminished.

Fili tore his hand free and grabbed his waist in terror. "Is mom talking about grandad? What happened to him?" His eyes filled with tears. Kili wailed, not knowing why his brother was crying and why his mother was yelling and buried his head under Thorin's chin.

"This was not the reason I called you here. Do you think it's wise to scare them this way? Get a grip on yourself", he looked at her coldly and then caressed Fili's back. "Go with your mom son and I will come over soon".

"Will you tell me what happened to grandad?" Fili looked up at him.

Dis cupped her face and shook her head. Her heart was thumbing hard by the immense effort to rise up to the occasion. Then she withdrew her hands and even though her eyes were overflowing with fearful tears of an impending doom, her courageous heart took over and she kneeled down and smiled to her older son, "Of course he will my darling, but we have to let Thorin do his job now alright? Come, I will make you some dinner and then we can read that story we didn't finish last night".

Fili was very reluctant to let go of Thorin's heavy belt, "I want to stay with him, I don't want to go", he said and looked fleetingly at the men that were by the door. They all avoided the young prince's eyes.

Thorin caressed his hair and felt Kili tightening his grip around his neck, "I know you do, but sometimes you need to learn how to let go. Go with your mom please. I need to work now".

When Dis tore Kili from his arms, the boy started crying hard again, "Come on baby, I will make you warm milk with honey".

'Mommy I don't want to go", Kili was crying himself blue.

"We have to my love. Thorin will come over later, okay?" she smiled and caressed his head as the boy clang onto her like no tomorrow. Fili wiped away his tears and tried to be the older brother in a manner that made Thorin very proud.

"Hey, how about I race you back to the hot springs you little orc?" He said and offered his uncle a worried smile that betrayed so blatantly his childish need for reassurance.

Thorin smiled down and gave him a small nod of agreement.

"Am I doing well?" Fili's lips toyed with a ghostly smile.

"You are making me very proud", Thorin whispered.

Kili pulled timidly away from his mom's neck and sniffled, "I am not an orc…"

"Yes, you are…" Fili teased and pretended to be ready to run away.

Kili kicked his mom who put him down with an oomph of pain and cried at his older brother, "I'll get you for that!"

Fili ran away from the rooms and Kili followed him. Dis's final gaze lingered on her brother grim and dark for a few moments before she turned and followed her boys.

When he was finally alone he turned his heavy eyes at Balin, "Thrain?"

Balin swallowed a dry throat and shook his head, "We've lost him Thorin".

His brows wavered with confusion, "What?"

"We were pursued by the servants of the necromancer in the Wilderlands. We tried to evade them, but one morning we woke up and Thrain was not there. We searched in vain for weeks, but we couldn't find him anywhere. You know I wouldn't have returned without him, if I was not certain of his grim fate. We couldn't even find his body to bring it to burial", Balin's solemn voice rattled Thorin's already bruised heart. His relationship with Thrain had been turbulent and he attributed a great many of his woes to his father's unbending nature, especially concerning their family and their legacy amongst the Longbeards. Nevertheless listening to Balin saying that his father was gone felt almost unreal. The finality of those words were unable to pass through his steely exterior, which was ironic since it was Thrain who created that exterior on him in the first place.

Thorin crossed his arms and walked up to the hearth silently.

Dwalin bowed his head, "We couldn't find his body, but neither could we find him alive. He has perished, Thorin".

He caressed his shoulder in a moment of weakness that looked so out of place on him, but didn't speak.

Balin kneeled down heavily and Dwalin tried to steady him. His eyes were streaming with tears, "Send us back into the wilderness and we shall not return until we find him. May we perish with him, but please believe me. We did the best we could before daring to appear defeated before you".

He opened his lips to reply and felt his eyes overflowing with tears. Still nothing came out of his mouth.

"I don't want to be the first one to say this Thorin, but under the current circumstances you need to take over command of the Blue Mountains", Bjarki kneeled next to Balin and his fist touched his heart, "The King is dead, long live the King".

The rest of the men kneeled down and touched their hearts. Then they called out in unison "The King is dead, long live the King!"

He closed his eyes and his teeth gritted, "he is not dead…I am going to find him", he whispered that promise to himself.

He may have lived most of his adult life clashing horns with his father, he may have sacrificed his personal happiness in order to fulfil his father's wishes for the sustainment of their family line, but he never wanted him dead. His family had been ripped to pieces all these years. It felt as if there was a black curse hanging over their heads, waiting to do them all in. As if they were in the middle of a cyclone dedicated to eradicate them. He shuddered and held on his shoulders, lest he fell apart in front of his men.

They remained like that kneeling behind him, offering him command of Durin's folk, silently waiting for him to address them as their new ruler…. and it was thus that Thorin the second -having then earned his name Oakenshield- became King in Exile. In that small and quiet, grief driven, loyalty filled ceremony in his rooms amongst his most trusted friends and commanders. Bereft of elaborate honours and impressive tributes. He became King as quietly as he had led his life all these years in exile. Life taught him how to live poorly and bow his head to lesser men in order to sustain what was now left of his family, therefore he didn't expect nor want any extravagance as the rule was passed onto him from the hands of Thrain.

He remained silent for seven days and nights -much like his father had when they lost Thror- thinking of his perished father and of the fate of his family, but on the eighth he stood up and took command more efficiently than Thror or Thrain combined, proving that the training he had undergone and all his heavy sacrifice hadn't come to naught. His old fears that he wouldn't be able to rise to the occasion proved unfounded since under his solid leadership his people prospered more than they had in years. Their trade increased a thousandfold and their numbers multiplied quickly, not only from births -since families did not hesitate to have children during these golden times- but also from wandering Longbeards that heard of Thorin's thriving realm and came to find him.

He ruled successfully for almost one hundred years and people were safe and happy in Thorin's Halls. He raised his nephews like a father and made good men of true value and pristine ethics out of them. They became such able and strong soldiers that Fili took over command of Thorin's army early on, like he had done for the army of Thrain at the same age. He sustained his sister and became a kind and caring ruler that never judged a book by it's cover no matter the natural pride that run into his veins. He was as considerate to his last miner as he was to his best dwarf-lord and people loved him dearly for that….but he was not at rest. Something was always at the sidelines, eating him up inside. He never stopped looking for his father and he underwent several operations all over Middle Earth, most of the times on his own against the advice of his trusted men, in order to find some information about his fate. No matter how many times Balin or Dwalin tried to stop him, he couldn't be convinced. During one of those treks he came across Gandalf and was given the key and map that set new wheels in motion in his mind.…Then he decided that he needed to do more than simply establish a safe haven for his people, or find his father …. He decided against all odds to reclaim Erebor for his people, for his dead forefathers and above all this time…for him. Something that almost destroyed him.

-.-

"You keep looking at the harp without a single cringe on your face and I cannot help but think that you died", Balin said thoughtfully.

He unglued his eyes from the harp and inhaled deeply, "Am I not breathing perchance?" His deep voice felt unused.

"This deaf troll-spawn has been tearing your wound open and pulling out stitches for the last half an hour and you haven't moved an eyelid….are you sure you are alive?" Balin asked and Dwalin snorted and shook his head.

"No", he rubbed his forehead.

"The openings are very small and I have a very light touch. That's why he isn't feeling anything", Oin said and shoved his hearing cone on Dwalin's hands, "Put it in my ear, I want to hear what you lice-ridden crybabies are talking about. I know you are speaking about me!"

Dwalin held the cone in his ear and yawned.

Thorin smiled and closed his eyes.

"What's on your mind son? It can't be that harp…you look almost in a trance", Balin said with care.

Thorin's lips turned down, "remember that day when you told me that Thrain was lost?"

Balin frowned and offered a guarded look at Dwalin who reciprocated, "One hundred years ago?"

"Yes"

"You mean the day you became our King. How can I ever forget it?" Balin smiled sadly.

Thorin humphed, "I didn't find him in the end, did I? How could I have known that he was being held captive in Dur Guldur, just a few steps away from Erebor... How could I have known that he suffered for so long?"

Balin sighed and sat down at the bed next to him, "Why is your mind so troubled with the past lad? Isn't that all come and gone? None of us knew what happened to your father and neither did you. How many times did you venture into the wilderness alone, in risk of killing yourself and leaving the Durin's Folk without a leader and all that with no results? You couldn't find your father and you roamed Middle Earth for years. Why linger in the past? What's the use now?"

Oin pushed Dwalin's hand away from his ear along with the cone, "I don't want to hear this…" his voice was heavy.

Thorin offered him a quiet look and turned towards the harp again, "Don't ask me that which I cannot answer. I know not why I linger in the past Balin".

Dwalin's eyes were downcast.

"Is there anything we can do to help you?"

He shook his head, "I don't think there is".

Oin drew Dwalin's hands with the cone once more in his ear, "Bring it back. I want to listen".

"Will you decide already?! You are driving me crazy! We have a serious conversation right here and you keep interrupting".

"I know you are! The content of this conversation was the reason I didn't want to listen to you, and the same content made me want to listen again!" Oin said and drew out the last stitch. Thorin didn't even move.

"You are full of contradictions old man….sweet Mahal I've grown tired of you", Dwalin looked towards the window annoyed, but kept his cone in place.

"I want to hear Thorin's response when I tell him a few words about all this", Oin said and stood up. He took the ointment and pulled Thorin up.

"Am I in for another sermon about letting go of the past cousin?" Thorin's smile was desponded.

"I wasn't there when you were pronounced King. I was with my brother Gloin at the third level gathering hall. A soldier came out of breath to announce with immense pride that Thorin the second had just been announced King of the Blue Mountains and that his father had gone missing and was considered dead. I cried then. I cried hard and long because Thrain was like a father to me. We mourned the loss of your honourable father that night without your presence, as you were locked away in grieving silence for a week, remember?" Oin asked and tightened the bandage almost unbearably around him.

Thorin winced and nodded.

"The next day we were all back at the main gathering cavern, silent, apprehensive and deeply disappointed about the loss of our rulers. One after the other they were gone. Cut down like weed. That day no one spoke loud, nor did the next or the day after. There was a heavy silence around us…much like the calm before the storm. I don't know what calamity we were expecting to fall onto our heads after the loss of Thrain. We knew what kind of a commander you were since your younger days in Erebor. We should have known that not only we were not in any danger, but that we were about to get into one of the most prosperous times of Durin's Folk since the founding of Erebor itself. Why you might ask?" Oin gave his bandage one last tight pull and tied it down.

Thorin's lips upturned in a side smile and he flicked one shoulder.

"Because our ruler was going to be a Longbeard that had been moulded for that position since birth. A man that showed his courage and valour, not only repeatedly in battle as a brilliant commander back in Erebor, but most of all when we went into exile. A man that didn't hesitate to shed his princeling skin when we were all poor and become poor alongside all of us. He was the one who wore the most threadbare clothes in order for his nephews to have a new pair of boots and his sister a new vest. He was the one who got off his horse and offered it repeatedly to the elders of our people when we were roaming the Dunlands for a new home. The one who first stepped onto the mud to check it's depth so the children of the lowest miners could follow him safely to the other side. He was the one that carried pregnant women on his back, even though his back was broken from miles of trekking, till we found a tavern were he could lay them to rest and he was the one that paid for their rooms through the sweat of his brow by forging swords for lesser men. He was the man that took off his velvet vest and fur neck coat in order to give them to that elder mason that was shivering from the frozen winds that night out near Isengard, remember?" Oin said all that with a steady voice.

"I do", Thorin's eyes were full of tears.

"You never took those clothes back did you?" Oin raised his brow.

"No".

Oin smiled, "Because he needed them more. You are a man that sacrificed everything for his people Thorin. A man that didn't mind forgetting all that extravagant wealth back in Erebor when his people didn't have enough food to eat. You didn't ride alongside our cold, wet and exhausted progression upon a proud steed, looking down at us. You walked alongside us, getting wetter, colder and much more exhausted than anyone else. You didn't fear hardships and your sense of honour towards your people was so impeccable that you preferred to suffer in order for them not to. How could we -then- have been so stupidly afraid -if only for a moment- when Thrain went missing? His place was going to be taken by that man I just described and wasn't it just a miracle for all of us that you did exactly what you were born to do? Lead!"

Thorin averted his eyes and winced.

Balin wiped out his eyes and nodded at Dwalin that cupped his shoulder with care.

"You led us not only in a prosperous life back at the Blue Mountains, but you also regained Erebor for your people. We should have expected nothing less from you and I am proud to have you my King. I will say that not once but a million times till I die and I am not the only one. Both your father and your grandfather would have been proud of you. So lay any demons of the past to rest and don't linger there. Be as proud of who you are, as your people are. There isn't a single soul in the Blue Mountains that doesn't adore you to death. There won't be one here in Erebor either. If you were to die up at Ravenhill all the seven clans would mourn your loss for months. Therefore I am madly proud that I was the one that stitched your strong body back together and allowed everyone to take a deep breath of relief now that you are alive and able to continue leading us. Alright cousin?"

Thorin nodded with his eyes closed. He didn't dare open them in fear that they were going to see how emotional he had become, "Why did you have to tie down the bloody bandage so tight around me? I can barely breathe", he said on purpose completely off topic.

Oin grabbed the cone away from Dwalin's hands and flailed his arms in the air, "Without stitches you need pressure to keep the wound from bleeding. It's partly healed, but it still needs time. Internally it will take at least nine months, so be careful how you treat yourself, because we don't want to lose the King I just described", he warned.

He snorted, "Fine".

Balin was still crying and Dwalin shook him from the shoulder, "Now it's your turn to become undone? Come on for Mahal's sake! What's come over all of you?!"

"I'll be fine," Balin wiped away his eyes.

"Glad Dis is asleep through all this", Thorin looked towards the window and saw that the light snowfall had completely stopped. The tops of the mountains were covered in several inches of snow, but down here at the foot of the mountain the sun was always melting the little snow that was covering the land during the night.

"Yeah me too. Love your sister, but I couldn't have handled her today", Dwalin agreed, "Hey you feel better?" He asked his brother.

Balin pointed at Oin that was fixing his medical bag, "This gibbering fool, just made one of the best speeches for Thorin I have heard in ages. Pity you weren't there the day that we gave him the rulership. You should have been in front of all of us and tell him these exact words. We had been reduced into pitiful silence instead".

Oin waved them off, "I hate speeches".

Balin shook his head and wiped away his last tears before looking at Thorin, "Will you rest now my son?"

Thorin turned his tired eyes at him and nodded, "I need to".

Balin was pulled up by Dwalin and followed Oin towards the door, "You want me to remain?" Dwalin asked.

"No, go", Thorin shooed them away.

Oin opened the door, "Goodnight laddie," Balin said.

"Oin!" Thorin called when they were outside.

He peeked inside and adjusted his cone, "Aye…"

"Thank you my friend", Thorin's eyes filled with gratefulness.

Oin's mouth broke into a wide smile, "nothing more than the truth. Rest well, goodnight".

When the door closed he looked at the harp, "goodnight", he muttered and remained immovable for a long time. Breathing steadily under the pressure of his tight bandage. When he finally decided to move again it was not towards his bed, but towards the harp. Oin's words, flourished a hopeful spark in his heart that not everything was as bleak and as dark as his mind was telling him during his visions. He sat down in front of it and took more than half an hour to wind up the strings to the liking of his ears. Then he quietened his heart and began playing some simple training combinations he remembered from his days in the Blue Mountains. After Siv's death he hadn't played much, but in the southern ranges of Ered Luin under another mountain and a different stone he had began playing timidly once again for the enjoyment of his nephews. A couple of tunes away from warming his fingers, he closed his eyes and the room, his balcony and several corridors away from him got filled with the magical flow of his music. Making several ears to perk up. His sister opened up her eyes from her doze and a sweet satisfied smile came to her lips before she curled up comfortably and closed them again. Dwalin smiled wistfully at his cup of ale and looked over at Balin who nodded thoughtfully. His sentinels looked at each other and lean back to the wall ready to enjoy this magical moment. As for the shadowy figure of his maiden...that stayed put a few feet behind the sentinels. Her face becoming enchanted, as she took in his amazing skill for everything that it had to give to her.

A little more than two weeks had passed since that warm and comforting talk at the forging stations and after that day her dedication to him became almost possessive. She never imposed herself to his presence, and he didn't require anything out of her either, but all their communications had a different tone altogether now. More amiable, more friendly somehow. His smiles at her held a calm warmth that made her heart beat faster and she always tried to foresee his needs, even though he didn't have any and every try fell empty.

That didn't discourage her though. She was still observing him from afar. Always waiting for him to need her for something, without becoming a burden. She admired how he was quickly healing and becoming stronger with each passing day and always drew back when the lofty King of Erebor returned in the stead of the respectfully alluring man she had seen at the forging station and at the river. Some days she missed the intimacy she had shared with him for those few precious moments, but she knew such things were not meant to last and become her everyday reality. So she pined on their memory, warming her heart with them and stood a silent sentinel. Waiting to be needed once more. Such was this night that she had finished all her work for the princess and she was about to retire. As usual she decided to go see if he needed her for anything, only to arrive just when his comrades were coming out of his rooms. She hid in the shadows and waited for them to leave and that is when the corridor filled with his mesmerising music. Saying that she was surprised by his ability to create music, when she had seen the same hands forging that magnificent sword with fire and steel was an understatement. Thinking what other things were those creative hands able to do, was something she wouldn't share with anyone. So instead of knocking on his door like she did every night to ask if he needed anything, only to be politely rejected and send to bed, she leaned back against the wall and enjoyed. Enjoyed what could have been the most calm night she had ever experienced since arriving in Erebor.

-.-

When he stopped playing music, he knew that his bed would have to wait. He was unable to sleep tonight. He wore his tunic, a velvet vest and on top of it added another layer of a leather one, knowing that the weather would be harsh outside later on. Taking his coat at hand he walked out in the corridor only to be greeted by the solemn salute of his sentinels, "at rest", he told them.

They did so.

He shook his head, "For Mahal's sake men, we are not in any immediate danger. Go to your women and sleep well tonight. There is no need to remain here".

They looked at each other confused.

"Go…just go", he smiled and bypassed them.

It didn't take him long to realise that as he walked down to the King's Halls someone was following him. Less time did it take him to understand who it was, but he didn't slow down until he entered the long tall hallways that led to the stables. Her soft footfalls were cantering behind his steady calm pace, trying to catch up. He was so used to her by now looming close to him in order to fulfil the needs of the King, that her silent presence there didn't impress him. He thought it was rather expected actually. She was always there every night in his rooms asking if he needed anything. Always with a bowed head, from a respectful distance, avoiding his eyes, almost kneeling to the floor. Forever reminding him that she was there for the King.

He huffed silently and shook his head. After that day at the forging station though he was not interested at all in the maiden anymore. He was only interested in the girl, who unfortunately didn't like to be cornered and didn't approach him in any way that betrayed that she saw in him anything more than the bloody King under the Mountain. So each time she offered her services he politely denied, in the hopes that she would understand that he wanted the Eilin of the river shore back. Not his sister's maiden. So when he heard her following him tonight he casually reassured himself that she only wanted to offer her services once more. He was going to send her politely to bed -again- mildly regretful of his inability to approach her like he did at the river. He didn't want to see her terrified like that day in front of his anvil. He placed his hands on his wide belt and stopped in front of the tall gates with his back turned to her, but well aware of her soft and quick breathing. His mind lingered with the burning question that bothered him beyond belief for two weeks.

Why was this singular girl occupying his thoughts so much lately? It wasn't as if he didn't have enough on his mind already...yet there she was present all the time. Not just physically, like tonight. The thought of her was residing behind his closed eyelids during several nights allowing him to drift away from those terrible nightmares of his past, into other safer worlds that belonged to the present and for that at least he was grateful to her.

He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, "Come out Eilin. Don't lurk in the shadows".

A/N:

- I want to thank everyone for their words of encouragement. I may not speak often, but I appreciate even a simple word from you few out there that gave this story a chance. I send all my love back at you *.*

- For the concerns about Balin. I understand how you would have wanted him more understanding. I know he loves Thorin dearly, but I always saw this advisor as the pragmatist of the company. The realist, the one that put things in perspective so to say. So in the case of Eilin...even though he should have been more emotionally available for Thorin, he saw through the fuzzy cloud that those two are inside, and to the grim reality of the situation. Which is not easy at all. It will probably create hell for Thorin, for Eilin, and for me to deliver it also. So forgive poor Balin, he is indeed trying to do the best for his friend, without realising what's truly important.

- My stories are mature and contain lemons. When you have 400 following you cannot ask, but with 18 it's easier. If you feel that lemons are inappropriate in this story feel free to say so and I will mould it differently. One way or the other the plot will not be touched. If they stay, they will be the spice on the main course, if not -the main course will still be there...intact.

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