I guess all I can say is hello (and apologies for all those that hoped for an update just a bit quicker than this). I'm currently trying to get from one point in the story to the next, but I'm stuck in the middle and it's pretty darned hard to write the way I want it. But oh well, it's a wall I must climb!
Do enjoy the chapter. It's a little in the short side but I really wanted to post an update.
When Ravens Fly
Chapter XIV: Return to Dale
It proved to be a difficult trial for the two princes to not outright laugh at the strained conversation, reaching them from beyond the closed door. The young Dwarf ardently attempted to persuade his father, voice but a high incoherent ramble of what he had witnessed upon entering the home; likely from the sheer shock of finding the heirs of Durin sitting leisurely in their living room, staring back at him as he had returned from work.
While one Dwarf sounded close to panicking, the other seemed much closer to losing his patience. "Calm down, son, and speak plainly - or I will be forced to dunk your head in a barrel with this ruckus you are making. Now either explain calmly or cease to speak at all." Fíli shot a glance towards his brother, neither knowing when or how to properly introduce themselves in the peculiar situation.
"Do you think we should ..." Fíli gestured to the door while the corners of his mouth tilted into a grin. "Well, you know. Assist."
Kíli took a long swig from his now lukewarm tea, eyebrows scrunched together in a mixture of mirth and slight bafflement. But his only response to the question was a shrug of the shoulders and an incomprehensible mumble. A brief silence followed, where no Dwarf – be that on the inside and on the outside – spoke.
The logs in the fireplace crackled and popped in the quiet.
Above the orange flames a pot of water boiled, making the brass lid move in a wobbly dance of clanking. In the distance they could hear the ever constant hammering of the forges, and finally the pitter-patter of small feet as Lóna skipped over to the door. The Dwarfling struggled at first to reach the doorknob and then proceeded, using a great deal of her weight, to pull it open.
"Adad! Nadad!" She smiled and then, displaying the blatant unawareness only a child could possess, pointed inside with enthusiasm. "We have visitors. Come, quickly." The oldest Dwarf, bushy browed and with a full dark beard, picked up his daughter before fully stepping into his home; the large, burly frame spoke of a warrior's character. Broad shoulders filled with strength and eyes that, ever so inconspicuously, swept the room for enemies before settling on the princes.
Yet at his belt hung not a sword nor an axe, but instead a different set of tools. Fine chisels of different sizes, a hammer, and a pair of rough working gloves dotted with blackish grey sooth from work. Before them stood the blacksmith, Frár. Fíli came to his feet; the scraping of a chair across the floor told him that his brother had done the same.
Settling the young child on his hip, dark eyes regarding the guests with a quiet calm, the blacksmith gave a deep bow. As he stood once more he spoke with a voice very much akin to their own uncle's. "Welcome, princes of Durin, to our home. I am Frár, at your service."
Both brothers mirrored his actions.
"We thank you for your hospitality, Mister Frár," Fíli said as he clasped his hands behind his back. "My apologies for paying your family a visit without prior notice, but we had to make good of a promise made to a mutual acquaintance. Your wife is a most gracious hostess, and she was kind enough to offer a light meal."
The Dwarf gestured politely for them to return to their seats, while his youngest child tugged insistently at his braids to gain his attention. "Adad, they came with a letter from Ranel," she explained eagerly and, wriggling in her father's grip, attempted to reach the sealed parchment on the table. "I want to know what it says. Can we read it?"
"Did they now?" Frár's firm gaze never strayed from the princes, not even as he pulled out a chair at the table. The blacksmith took everything in stride, showing no real indication of astonishment at their presence; it was a strange and unusual display of calm, but in no sense was the reaction unwelcome to Fíli. He much prefered when people did not brew up a fuss. "Surely your highnesses did not need to go through such troubles, coming all the way here for such a mundane task that a squire could have handled without mishaps."
Fíli lowered his head slightly in acknowledgement, knowing well they had plenty of servants to carry out such assignments; but he could not help but feel a sense of apprehension if someone else was to deliver the minstrel's letter.
He suppressed a frown.
"A promise is nonetheless a promise, do you not agree? It is upon my honour to see it carried through to completion," Fíli explained, "My brother and I both gave our word to deliver the letter to your family, and so now we have fulfilled our duty."
With a thoughtful nod of agreement, Frár turned to his son; the younger Dwarf had yet to enter the room further and was instead lingering by the door, uncertainty clear on his face despite obvious awe at the princes' presence. He appeared younger than both Fíli and Kíli, likely only just turned battle ready and not yet fully of age; there were youthful lines around his eyes and a lankiness to his limbs, but also signs of strength in his shoulders. "Be a good lad and fetch your mother, would you, for I believe she would certainly wish to read the letter as well."
"Yes, of course, father."
The Dwarf gave a hurried, deep bow at Fíli and Kíli before scurrying off to the kitchen, where sounds of pots and pans could be heard from his mother's bustling preparations. "I apologise for my son's uncouth behaviour," Frár spoke, smoothening his beard with a sigh; he twirled a bead between his rough fingers while settling the young Dwarfling in his lap. "Unfortunately Lóni forgets his manners when he is overly excited, I fear."
Understandingly, Fíli of course accepted the apology and found the younger Dwarf's actions to be of little insult. If not for his own title he would have cared even less. He had previously found forced deference stifling back in Ered Luin, and it was not about to change just because they had found a new place to call home.
"No matter," he waved off the blacksmith's concerns.
Bowing and scraping to people born from different parents should not command indisputable authority.
It was earned.
The Dwarrowdam reappeared in the door with her son following close behind, carrying another tray laden with food that they quickly placed upon the table. New plates were handed out, glasses were filled with a golden sweet-smelling liquid, and finally the family each found a place around the table. Lóna shuffled from her father's arms, seeking out her mother – and the caramelized berries close by – while the Dwarrowdam invited them to dig in.
They gratefully accepted.
The meal was rather homely and more than anything it brought on memories of his own mother's cooking; bread rolls baked with nuts and dried berries, served with slices of ham, salted butter, and hard-boiled eggs. There was even a bowl of strawberries; a rather pricey commodity from the Erebor markets, and Nola had likely bought it for something important. With a pair of princes in her home, though, there would be no better – nor proper – time to serve them.
Fíli hid a smile when he saw the small Dwarfling's face lit up, eyes turning saucer-round as she gaped at the berries. It would be almost cruel to even taste them. Once more, as covertly possible, Kíli nudged the bowl across the table while reaching for the butter, all the while shooting a knowing glance to his brother.
Upon bringing the cup up in a toast, thanking their hosts for a most welcome meal, the golden beverage turned out to be fermented honey and water, spiced with cinnamon and cloves – traditional mead served in the Blue Mountains to welcome guests.
The sweet smell soon filled the room, mixing in with the crackling wood and roasted bread.
There was only little talk amongst the gathered Dwarves, as neither part had much to say to the others. It proved a clear reminder to Fíli that he now lived in an entirely different world; before their quest to retake Erebor he had been but the nephew of a king without a kingdom, no different from all the others who had sought refuge in the West. A troublemaker wrecking havoc throughout the corridors of the Blue Mountains alongside his brother.
What had they talked about then?
Much to his luck, Frár and Nola then decided to finally read the contents of the letter, and Fíli was spared the uncomfortable pressure of thinking up a topic of conversation. While the Dwarven pair did not read the words out loud, Fíli could not help but wonder what was written inside; he could not imagine much else but well-mannered pleasantries. Perhaps wordings of a wish to once more meet with her travelling companions.
As they finished reading they then passed the letter on to their son.
Dark eyes scanned across the page swiftly, before he glanced to Frár with a brow furrowed deeply.
"She asks if we can come visit her before she takes to the road once more," the young Dwarf spoke, setting the letter aside on the table. Fíli found her departure to be rather swift and sudden. "So soon, though?" The question mirrored his own thoughts well.
Too soon.
When Fíli heard those words, he felt as if someone had punched him full force in the stomach and he inhaled sharply. For a brief moment he all but forgot where he was, staring down on to his hands clenched in his lap.
He barely realized that Lóni had asked another question, this time directed towards the princes. "My Lords, if I may inquire, is there any word on when the Mountain opens to outsiders yet?"
Luckily his brother had paid a little more attention.
"It is hard to say much about such matters ... but not for a time anyways," Kíli explained, resting his fingers around the cup. A booted foot hardly nudged Fíli below the table, and he quickly drew away from his own thoughts; his head snapped up, attempting to take part in the conversation once more. He felt flustered, but it did not appear as if their hosts had noticed his unbefitting conduct. He breathed slowly, evenly. "There is still much to be done before we can handle outsiders in the Mountain."
Lóni stroked his beard and hummed below his breath, then shifted his gaze.
"Adad, can we then visit her in Dale?"
Frár pondered the question for a moment. "And what of your work, then?"
"I shall work the forges twice as hard to not fall behind on my duties."
"Me too!" The Dwarfling exclaimed eagerly with a mouth full of strawberries, while she nearly toppled down her chair. "I want to see Ranel too!"
Her mother was quick to silence her, shaking her head. "Absolutely not! You are not going anywhere, young lady, and I will have no squabble about the matter." The girl opened her mouth to argue but was silenced with a long, stern gaze. "My word is final. No." Instead Lóna looked to her father for assistance; a pout crawled into her features, small hands fumbling with her dress.
Fíli knew that look all too well. How often had they not used those very same eyes on their mother if they wanted something? And how often had they not promptly been met with an immediate no? The Dwarfling's fate was no different. "Listen to your mother, little one, she knows best." Frár said. "You are too young to travel such a way."
At first she took a deep breath, temper flaring in warning of an incoming tantrum, but then she jumped from her chair and pointedly stomped from the room.
She came back right away, took the bowl of strawberries, and marched off.
Neither parent looked much impressed with their daughter's behaviour. "I must apologise once more," Frár spoke with a sigh.
"We have all been children once," Fíli laughed, "and I have seen my brother the same way many a times."
Kíli raised an eyebrow at the jab; he shot Fíli a look of challenge before, with the corners of his mouth tilting into a grin, nodded towards Lóni. "I agree that the little one is too young to leave the Mountain, but what of your son? We have business in Dale this coming week, and he is most welcome to join us then. He should be in no danger in our company."
This time it was the older prince who was left gaping.
Kíli looked awfully pleased.
The last time Fíli had seen someone sit so rigidly upright in a saddle, ramrod straight, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had just left the Shire with a very dismayed Hobbit in their mids. That day Bilbo had certainly proven that Halflings were not of the riding folks, and that breathing had been almost impossible while straddling a pony.
The memory brought a smile to his lips.
Although he was still rather irked by his brother extending an invitation without consulting him first, he nonetheless found the situation to be of some amusement. The young Dwarf, Lóni, son of Frár, was likely not mortally fearful of his current steed – a brown and white spotted, good-natured mare. No, chances were it was his current company that put him off.
But as promised, the princes had five days later once more met with the blacksmith's oldest child at the gates of Erebor. This time he had greeted them with utmost politeness – likely having received a firm reprimand the week prior.
He was dressed in light travelling garb, and at his hip hung an axe.
While Kíli spoke of duties bringing them to Dale either way, hence a companion more or less would matter little, they did not have any true purpose for the journey. Again the brown haired Dwarf had persuaded their uncle with excuses of how fresh air would do them good; though Fíli was not quite certain they were believed. In fact, he had a feeling they had been dismissed just to spare Thorin the headache of listening much longer.
Light clouds came up in the distant South and were blown away upon the breeze.
It was still the early hours of morning, and all was bright and clear around them as they followed the road to the city of Men. The sun was rising, painting with streaks of pink and orange. Birds were chirping away, some soaring as black shadows across the skies high above, and others making their way through the long grass hidden from sight. The River Running could be heard, its waters chuckling as it bend and carved through the landscape.
Embers smoldered still in the large braziers flanking the gates into the Mountain, sending trails of light-grey ash fluttering into the sky. The night-watch lowered their spears in greeting. Wind rushed around Fíli, pulling at his hair, and his heart lifted.
Several travellers passed them as they went; some leaving the Mountain to set up stalls in Dale's marketplaces, and others looked for the first time upon the Lonely Mountain with reverence and tearful joy after a long journey. Fíli and Kíli rode side by side, breathing the fresh and clear air of morning, and behind them rode Lóni amongst a small company of armed guards.
And once again Dwalin was with them, sullen and bad tempered, helping very little to ease the young Dwarf's worries. "The grass is green and the sky is blue, Master Dwalin, surely you cannot be in a bad mood on such a fine morning!" Kíli called over his shoulder down the line of riders.
"When I have to watch you two again, doing Mahal knows what? Then yes, it is easy to disregard a fine morning." The response came briskly, tersely and made Fíli wonder if perhaps rather than to fear the assault of bandits, he should worry more about Dwalin finally losing his patience.
Fíli shook his head at his brother's antics.
"Well," Kíli added, "no one asked you to join us!"
It had rained some during the night and the ponies sloshed through puddles, sending droplets of murky water flying. The company followed behind a cart drawn by a pair of oxen, loaded high with bags of metal-work for Dale's fortifications.
Green spread as far as the eye could see and further still, until the land vanished in the horizon and was swallowed by the sky. Summer had truly settled over the region for the first time since the dragon lay a shadow upon the Mountain. "What is your plan, brother, once we arrive in Dale?" Fíli whispered.
A riot of flowers dotted the sloped hills.
"Why, of course, we go to visit our minstrel!"
Fíli wanted to add that she was not their minstrel, but thought the better of it. "And we shall do that with a handful of guards following? That would definitely not raise questions." He regarded his brother steadily but then, exhaling, admitted, "I do not wish to be known as a Prince of Durin – I much prefer to be just me."
Kíli pulled the bridle and slowed his pony; the riders behind halted and allowed them room for privacy. When Fíli looked over he caught Kíli watching him thoughtfully. The brown haired Dwarf seemed unsure of what to say at first, but then he gave a smile as if knowing something no one else did.
He spurred his pony forward again, leaving Fíli to marvel at what had just transpired and none the wiser about their guards.