Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, in particular Dojoson41 – thank you :D and Hermione Granger – thank you so, so much! I'm so honoured that you love it so much!
I apologise profusely for the length of time between updates, but I just started the second year at uni, have had health and personal problems piling up on my door and to make it a whole lot more difficult, I wanted this to be a mammoth chapter –
This, ladies, gentlemen and anyone inbetween, is my 100th chapter. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That is completely utterly unbelievable, and I thank you all so much for your incredible support. I have given you 9,200 words of story alone for this chapter so I hope it all lives up to your marvellous expectations!
I apologise for my mistakes, I am tired, weary and without electricity so I am borrowing internet of my phone to upload this tonight! Ah, student life…
So, please read, enjoy, and review…
Chapter One Hundred # Centuries #
Bilbo Baggins stood on the balcony of the Company Room watched the sun rise over the horizon. He watched the distant shadow of Mirkwood glow into beauty beneath the dawn's gentle touch, and he watched the darkness of the night lift from Erebor's slopes. The stone of the mountain shone a thousand colours in the light, and Bilbo's breath was stolen by the ordinary beauty of the land.
Perhaps it was a hobbit trait, but Bilbo had always had an affinity for life's little wonders. There was so much to see, so much to appreciate in the world that busier folk walked right on by. He was certain that the dwarves were fully aware of the beauty of their home, but did the men that now walked into the mountain see the light dancing beneath their feet? And did the dwarves really appreciate the simpler aspects of their home the way that hobbits did, like the hardy little flowers that grew within the mountain itself?
Maybe they did. He hoped that they did – he hoped that his friends and family could see what he saw, because when he looked for life's little wonders the world no longer seemed so scary a place.
His gaze turned to the south, where men and elves and dwarves were streaming into the mountain's gates. Durin's Day was finally upon them, and though many in the city were yet to rise the guards were already admitting the hundreds of guests expected for the day. Dwalin had been absolutely feverish over the last two days, worrying incessantly about the dangers that so many strangers posed to the city.
It was unwise, he argued, to allow the vast numbers of guests into their kingdom when they were not yet at full strength. Thorin had replied that it would be less wise to leave an important kingdom out of the invitations, for if they did they risked making enemies, which they could certainly do without.
Bilbo had to admit that he was impressed with the preparations that had been made. Dwarves, it seemed, were strong rivals for hobbits' partying prowess. It had taken him a record-breaking hour to get Frodo to sleep last night, for the boy was so excited he could not stop wiggling in bed. It was only when Bilbo told him that little boys who do not get enough sleep will be too tired to partake in the celebrations that Frodo snapped his eyes shut and lay as still as a statue, finally falling asleep a few minutes later.
Though he was excited too, there was a knot in Bilbo's stomach. Dwalin was right – there was so much that could go wrong today, so many possibilities for horror or bloodshed. It helped to stand here, alone in the quiet with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Bilbo's mind turned to his parents. Would they have ever in their wildest dreams imagined that their son would grow up as a father to a dwarf and a guardian to an orphaned cousin? Would they have condoned his choices or condemned them?
His mother would have supported him from the beginning, he knew that. She had always nursed the little flame of spirit that the Tookish blood had lit in her son's heart, and she would have simply adored Kíli. Belladonna would have followed them both in a heartbeat, even to the other end of the world. He knew that.
When it came to his father, Bilbo was not so sure. Bungo was a Baggins, through and through, and though he would not have scorned Kíli the way some of his kin did, Bilbo was not sure whether his father would think kindly on his adopting the young dwarf. Bilbo also highly doubted that his father would up sticks and move to the Lonely Mountain at all.
But Bilbo knew that his father had loved him. And he knew that for that reason alone, Bungo Baggins would have done everything he could to open his heart and love Kíli too.
A soft knock drew Bilbo from his contemplation and he smiled at the head poking around the balcony door.
"Think of the devil," he said.
Kíli grinned, walking out in his pyjamas. "Morning. I thought you'd be out here."
"Am I really that predictable?"
"To me," Kíli flopped down onto the floor, only to yelp and leap to his feet. "Oh, that's cold!"
"Yes, well it is winter now."
Kíli stared at the ground as if it had chilled his backside on purpose. "These pyjamas aren't as warm as I thought…"
"I thought the cold never bothered you…" Bilbo could not help but smirk a little.
"It doesn't! It just startled me, that's all," Kíli protested.
"Oh, of course."
Kíli rolled his eyes. "You're a bully, Bilbo Baggins."
"A bully? Oh, I don't think so."
Kíli's scowl melted into a smile and he wrapped his arm around Bilbo's shoulders, resting his head on Bilbo's. "Are you nervous about today?"
"Nervous? Well, I suppose I am a little, yes," Bilbo nodded. "How are you?"
"Excited and terrified," Kíli replied simply. "There's so much that could happen, so much…"
"We will be fine," Bilbo squeezed Kíli's wrist.
"I hope so," his son sighed, staring out at the sunrise. "You know, this is an incredible view…"
"Isn't it?"
"Do you remember when I was little," a faint smile spread across Kíli's face. "We'd sit and watch the sun set or rise and see who could name the most adjectives to describe it?"
Bilbo smiled. "I remember. I remember the first time you beat me, too. I had no idea that puce was a colour."
"Neither did I until Daisy gave me a lecture about not washing the white clothes with the coloured ones. I turned her good bedsheets purple, you know."
"I did not know that," Bilbo shook his head. "What on earth did you do that for?"
His son grinned sheepishly. "We urgh… we might've been caught vegetable raiding a vegetable patch and um… she might've given us a list of chores as punishment…"
"Raiding? Whose patch?"
"Oh, wow," Kíli frowned slightly. "I don't remember, it was a while ago now… I think it was probably the Sackville-Bagginses, or someone else who we thought had slighted us. I do remember that the owner didn't catch us – it was Daisy that did. She made us leave money for the vegetables and a note of apology before we did the chores."
Bilbo shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in you, Kíli…"
Hurt flickered in his son's eyes. "Bilbo, that was years ago-"
"Getting caught vegetable raiding? I thought I'd raised you better than that," he clicked his tongue and shook his head. "In my day I was never caught. I once smuggled fifty apples out of Old Took's own orchard wearing nothing but a shirt, jacket and pair of trousers."
Kíli laughed. "Well, I'll be sure to do better next time."
Bilbo stared sharply at him. "You most certainly will not. If you raid vegetables around here you'll get more than a few chores my lad."
"Only if I get caught…"
"Which, with your track record, is almost inevitable."
"Is that a challenge?"
"No! It most certainly is not a challenge! Kíli Baggins, I mean it, don't you dare-"
Kíli laughed again. "I won't, Bilbo, I won't. I promise."
The door flew open without a knock and Dís rushed out. "Oh, good, there you are."
"Who, me?" Bilbo and Kíli said in surprised unison.
"Yes, both of you. It's after dawn and we're behind schedule!"
"Behind schedule?" Kíli looked taken aback. "But the ceremony does not begin until half past nine-"
"Exactly, we only have two hours to get ready!" Dís said, taking both Bilbo and Kíli by the arm and marching them inside.
"Why would it take two hours to get dressed?" Bilbo worried. "What's going on?"
"We don't have time to explain," she marched them into the dining room, where the rest of their sleepy family were having breakfast. "Eat. You have fifteen minutes."
Bilbo did as he was told, reaching for the toast. Before he sat down he turned. "Dís, aren't you going to sit with us?"
"There is much to do-"
"And there are many people to do it, I'm sure," Bilbo said. "You need to eat something."
Dís raised an eyebrow, amused. "Are you mothering me, Bilbo?"
"Not at all, I'm merely the voice of reason," he insisted.
She faltered, and then sat beside him, reaching for the sausages. "I am famished."
"There, you see? Listening to the hobbit is always wise where food is concerned."
The princess smiled, but did not reply.
"Now, just why will it take us so long to get ready?" Bilbo asked, biting into his toast.
"Well," Dís paused to swallow her breakfast. "There's the matter of getting dressed, and then the matter of hair and then finally make-up."
"Make-up?" Bilbo blinked. "What make-up?"
"It's tradition," Dís explained. "To paint certain markings on your skin for events such as Durin's Day."
"What sort of markings?"
Dís laughed. "Don't look so afraid Bilbo, it is only a little paint! It is temporary, I promise. Trust me."
"Well, I trust you," Bilbo said, grabbing some tomatoes. "But it's against my better judgement."
"Don't worry," she grinned. "There are experts to do it for you."
"Experts?"
Dís looked at the clock and swore, standing back up and calling out. "May I have your attention please? Thank you. Now, at precisely half past seven we must leave here to get ready. Bilbo, Saradoc, Paladin, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin will all follow Dwalin, Ori and Bragi. Ellie, Esme, Pearl, Nelly, and Vinca, you all need to follow Dana and Marta. Fíli, Kíli, you'll be following me and Thorin. Is anyone confused as to where they're going? No? Good. I will see you all at nine o'clock, sharp!"
All too soon they were whisked up and away, and Bilbo did as he was told, taking Frodo by the hand and joining the other male hobbits down the hall.
"Where're we going?" Merry asked curiously from his father's back.
"To my quarters," Ori replied with a cheery smile. "We have everything that we'll need there."
"And what will we need?" said Merry.
"You'll see when we get there!" Ori grinned.
"Like a surprise?" Merry's eyes lit up. "I love surprises!"
They arrived at Ori's a few seconds later, and Bilbo's mouth dropped slightly. Ori's living room was filled with chests, and no less than seven full outfits hung on a rack.
"Right, now, getting dressed is the first thing," Ori said, handing out a hanger to each hobbit.
Bilbo stared at the clothing in his hands. It was as soft as silk, and infinitely more beautiful. Traditional dwarven patterns were embroidered at each edge of the fabric, and the colours were rich and strong. It did not pass his notice that his mithril suit was included in his outfit.
"If you're shy you can change in the bathroom," Dwalin smirked, and Bilbo realised that the others were already changing.
"I was just distracted by the craftsmanship," he admitted, pulling off his pyjama trousers and replacing them with the brown ones he had been given. Unlike the hobbit style, they were neither short nor baggy. Instead, they were rather close-fitting, and reached down to the bottom of his legs where they tapered off into an arrow on either side that covered his ankles. The area around his shins was embroidered in what looked to be a similar pattern to those found on many dwarven boots, which Bilbo thought was rather interesting.
On top of these he pulled on a loose cotton undershirt, then his mithril rings and then the tunic, which was the deep colour of a blue rose. It did not fully close, and instead fell as a frame for the mithril in a style that was very unhobbitish, but undeniably beautiful. On top of this came the cape, a darker, navy blue colour lined with gold embroidery and secured by an intricate broach of burnished gold.
"Bilbo's dressed!" Dwalin declared. "Bragi, hair!"
"On it," the young dwarf took Bilbo by the arm and led him to a stool. "If you don't mind…"
"Of course," Bilbo sat down. "But I must ask, what exactly are you doing to my hair?"
"Trying to marry dwarven and hobbit custom," Bragi replied, taking a small section of hair in front of Bilbo's ear and deftly braiding it. "So nothing too fancy, I promise."
"Alright, I trust you," Bilbo said.
"That is good to know," the albino smiled. His own hair, Bilbo noted, was braided in an impressively intricate style, and it looked as though his beard had been trimmed.
"Bragi, may I ask you a personal question?" Bilbo asked hesitantly.
"Ask away," the young dwarf finished Bilbo's first braid and secured it with a silver bead, before taking a similarly small section behind his ear and braiding that.
"Why do you keep your beard short?"
Bragi laughed. "Because when I grow it I look about three hundred years old! The white hair, that's not too bad, but the beard? No, it's far easier for me to keep it short. I'm lucky – folk scarcely judge me for it because they're too busy trying to figure out what colour my damned eyes are."
"I see," Bilbo replied, glad that he had not offended his friend. "Well, that does make sense."
"Aye," Bragi whisked around to do the other side of Bilbo's head. "You know, I think this is going to work rather well. Ori!"
"Mm?"
"Accent braids in front of and behind the ears works."
"Perfect!"
"Will you be doing this to everyone?" Bilbo wondered.
"To Saradoc and Paladin," Bragi nodded. "Might play around with the little ones more. Dana and Marta get to play with the girls hair, so they'll have a lot more freedom, since your lasses do braid their hair anyway."
"That does make sense," Bilbo agreed. "And Kíli and Fíli?"
"Ah, they'll be set upon by Dís and Bilbo. I have no idea what they will look like, I've never seen a royal ceremony before. There you are, done! Dwalin!"
"This I am concerned about," the hobbit said as the grinning warrior beckoned him over.
"Don't be such a girl," Dwalin sat the hobbit down on another stool.
"Girl isn't an insult," Paladin, Saradoc and Merry all called out.
"Esme's trained them well," Bilbo explained.
"Right, well don't be such a coward, then. It's just a little nakhdu id-'ubd."
"I have no idea what that means."
"Ubd means body," Saradoc offered, from where he was struggling to secure the leather belt around his waist. "This really is far too big…"
"Literally nakhdu id-'ubd means paint of the body," Dwalin explained, dipping a strange, brush like tool into the bowl of strange, blue paint. "Now, hold still."
The hobbit did as he was told – mainly because the burly warrior was applying paint worryingly close to Bilbo's eyes. Bragi laughed from across the room.
"Truly Bilbo, you don't need to look so scared!"
"Easy for you to say," Bilbo tried not to move his lips too much as the brush moved down beneath his eye. "Are we done?"
"Not even close," Dwalin picked up another brush, coating it in a darker paint that he started to apply as well. "So sit tight and shut up."
Across the room, Frodo giggled.
"Don't you laugh Frodo Baggins," Bilbo warned, bringing further giggles from his nephew, Merry, Pippin and Sam.
"You look strange," Frodo grinned, tilting his head to the side to get a better view of Dwalin's work. "But it's a good strange."
"Oh?" Bilbo raised an eyebrow, for which Dwalin smacked him gently on the back of the head.
"Mmhm," Merry agreed with his cousin. "You look really good!"
Bragi swept across the room and plucked Pippin into the air. "Time for your hair, little one!"
Pippin put his hands on his head. "You're not gonna take it away are you?"
Bragi looked scandalized. "Never!"
"Oh," Pippin smiled. "Good!"
"Time check!" Dwalin grunted.
"Eight o'clock," Ori called.
"Well, sh-"
"Perhaps Ori should start on the little ones' paint?" Bragi interrupted Dwalin's curse.
"Why do we have to have paint on us?" Merry wondered even as Ori lifted him onto a nearby stall.
"It's a tradition," Ori replied.
"Why?"
"Well, do all traditions need meaning?"
Merry frowned as he considered this. "No… but it's more interesting if they do."
"That's true," Ori grinned. "I don't know the story behind it, I'm afraid, but I do know that it's fun!"
That was all it took to have Merry squirming excitedly in his seat.
"There, you're done," Dwalin said gruffly. "Don't touch your face – who's next?"
As Saradoc took the seat Bilbo had previously occupied, the oldest hobbit walked over to the nearest mirror. His eyes widened as he took in his reflection - and to his relief and surprise he did not look nearly as terrible as he had imagined.
A single, dark blue line ran from his forehead over his eyelid to his cheek bone like a scar over his eye, shadowed on either side by a line of lighter blue dots. On the opposite cheek was what looked like a sideways 'V' in the same light blue shade which vaguely followed the natural contours of his face, with its point near his nose. Another line of dots, these dark blue, ran through the middle, disappearing around his jaw. His braids hung shorter than those of a dwarven style, but they looked almost majestic, and they framed his newly made up face.
When he looked closely he could see the more hobbit-like aspects of this strange new style – everything was simpler than he imagined the dwarves' would be, and the embroidery of the clothes revolved around nature and the outdoors. He had been given no boots, and the majority of his curls hung loose. The face paint, while alien, was simple. Tasteful, even by a Baggins' standards.
The spark of excitement in Bilbo's gut kindled into a flame and he could not help but grin.
"Thank you, Dwalin," he said.
The warrior smiled. "Don't mention it."
"All done Merry!" Ori smiled, and the little boy jumped down and raced to the mirror.
The dwarves had seemed to be a little more experimental when it came to the boys' hair – five braids led back from Merry's forehead to roughly where his ears were. A line of shining, silver hair clasps stretched over his head from one side to the other, and at the back his curls were loose and free.
"Oh, wow," Merry whispered, blinking his wide eyes and reaching towards the mirror. His finger settled on the reflection of a light blue dot above his eyebrow and traced it to the next one, and the next, and the next for they all formed a line that curved over his left brow, down over his nose and then curled upwards beneath his right eye. "It's like an 's'! Thank you, Mister Ori, thank you thank you thank you!"
"You're welcome," Ori blushed as he beamed, turning to the other children. "Who wants to go next?"
"Me!" Frodo piped up. "Please!"
Ori simply patted the stool and let the lad run over himself.
By half past eight, all seven hobbits were dressed appropriately, face paint and all. Bilbo could not help but marvel at the dwarves' work – somehow they had managed to create something individual for each hobbit. No two hairstyles were identical, and the lines and dots on their faces were all simple and elegant, and yet all different.
"Perfect," Dwalin crowed, looking them up and down. "You're good to go – so sit tight."
"Why?" Pippin wondered, tugging on the end of the braid that ran from one pointed ear to the other like a diadem.
"Because now we need to get ready," Bragi grinned, shrugging off his tunic and replacing it with a clean one of deep red, lined with silver that complimented his albinism and made him look both regal and deadly. "And we don't want you messing up your new face, now do we?"
Pippin shook his head adamantly and instantly became distracted by the beads that swung around in it.
"He's like a dog chasing his tail," lamented Paladin, watching his son whirl around and around.
"Yes – adorable," Bilbo amended.
"Speaking of dogs, where're the wolves?" Saradoc wondered.
"With Ehren, Soren and Alfr," Bragi explained as he poked a paintbrush scarily close to his eye. "They're helping the guards while everyone arrives. The wolves help with scaring away any potential foes, and I believe they were also keen to see Beorn once again."
Pippin stopped turning in an instant and gasped sharply. "Papa!"
"What, what's wrong?" poor Paladin looked more than a little alarmed.
"Are Estel and Lego-elf coming today?" the toddler asked sombrely.
"Yes," Paladin breathed out. "Yes, they are, Pippin. Why?"
A huge grin split across the little boy's face and he let out a gleeful laugh. "Yay! Because, because I misseded them, Papa, I misseded them very much and so did Gimli!"
Bilbo smiled himself, and then he heard something that lifted his heart even more.
"Does anyone want a cup of tea?"
"Alright, ladies, tea-break's over, I'm afraid!"
As soon as the words reached her ears, Nelly hopped down from the table and brushed out the crinkles on her new dress.
Her new dress.
Pimpernel Took had never, ever had a dress as amazing as this one before. She much preferred the freedom that she could have with a pair of trousers, but this...
Nelly would live in this dress for the rest of her life if she could. It was navy blue and white – her favourite colours – and despite the full skirt and flowing sleeves it was incredibly easy to move around in. Beneath the skirt she had been given silver trousers that fitted snugly around her legs so that she could even do a handstand in public without getting told off! What was more, despite how silky it felt to the touch, Nelly could also feel just how strong the material was – she could look pretty and smart and still run around to her heart's content.
This was not just a frilly party dress – this was the bestest, most wonderful dress in the whole wide world.
"Alright, Nelly, time to do your hair," Marta said, taking her by the hand.
Nelly followed her friends' mother without a fuss. She may not have much patience for girly things but this strange type of dressing up was fun. Having her face painted had been really interesting, and now deep purple swirls and flames decorated the outer corners of her eyes, and a single row of spots ran from the centre of her forehead down her nose to her chin.
It made her look like a warrior and a princess at the same time – a warrior princess, like Dís! – and Nelly loved it.
"So," Marta ran her fingers through Nelly's curls. "I think something tough for you, nuthanuth?"
"Yeah!" Nelly enthused.
"You'll have to stop wiggling then, Miss Nelly."
"Oops. Sorry."
"That's alright," Marta sectioned of the side of Nelly's hair and began to braid.
"Are Orla and Ola already done?"
"I should think so, by now. Their Papa and Uncles are getting them ready."
Nelly hummed to show that she was paying attention, because she knew that she was not supposed to nod while she was having her hair done. Her mind began to wander and she used the time to practise moving her fingers in the Iglishmêk symbols that Nori was teaching her.
After a few moments, Marta spoke quietly. "What is that you're doing, Nelly?"
"Nori's teaching me Ig-lish-mêk," Nelly pronounced each syllable of the word very carefully. "I want to be able to understand Mister Bifur. I think he'd have some really interesting stories to tell and he seems really nice."
"Really?" Marta sounded surprised, but in a good way. "That's a very sweet thought Nelly. He'll appreciate it very, very much – and you're right. Bifur is a lovely, lovely person, and he certainly has many an interesting story to tell."
Nelly did the little hum-nod thing again, and then when Marta finished, Nelly ran over and peeked into the mirror.
She gasped, and then she beamed. There were two identical braids running down the side of her head over her ears and down towards the nape of her neck. The top part of her hair was teased up, a little like Nori's, and then brought into a braid that ran down to join the other two. Marta had braided all three braids together, and then done another two small, intricate braids that hung on either side of her neck, secured with gleaming silver beads.
"What do you think?"
"I love it!" Nelly turned around, feeling the loose curls at the back swooshing through the air behind her. "Thank you, Marta!"
"You're very welcome," the woman replied with a warm smile.
"Careful, Nelly," her mother said from across the room. "You don't want to mess up that hair now, do you?"
Before Nelly could even pout, Dana laughed.
"She'd have to do a fair bit more than your usual rough and tumble to mess up that hair, my dear Ellie! That'll stay in all day and all night – she could even sleep in it if she wants to. Besides, we've given all the lasses styles that will look just as beautiful tousled and messy as they do when they are first crafted. The dress is just as durable, so I wouldn't worry too much. Dwarves know all about boisterous children."
Ellie smiled, and her face relaxed just a little. "I suppose…"
Nelly turned back and admired herself in the mirror. Now she did look amazing – even more like a warrior princess!
Pervinca joined her at the mirror. "I like your braid, Nelly."
"Thank you – me too!" she said, and then she looked at her little sister. "Vinca, you look beautiful!"
Vinca's eyes lit up as she giggled, and Nelly stared at the spots that traced an invisible line above her sister's eyebrows, leading to a point in the middle of her forehead with the most delicate, detailed patterns. Somehow it did not overcrowd her little face – maybe because more of her hair was pulled back into a huge bun that was interwoven with what seemed to be a thousand braids and decorated with beads and clasps. There were only two loose ringlets, and they hung around her face against her chubby cheeks, dancing when she smiled.
The littlest hobbit lass' dress was the soft pink of a sweet pea flower, and it looked just as dainty and delicate. The bodice was embroidered with silver patterns, and the sleeves were very puffy at the top, though they were tighter on her lower arms. Nelly guessed that the younger girl's dress was just as tough as hers was, but it was a lot more fragile looking.
"You look like a fairy princess," she said honestly. "A flower fairy princess."
"Thank you," Vinca beamed, swirling her huge skirt around and watching the silk ripple over the layers of petticoats. It was then that Nelly recognised the bracelet that Kíli had given her little sister around Vinca's small wrist.
"It's really clever how they make dresses like these," Pearl said, joining her sisters. "Because they look like they'd break and get muddy really, really easily but they don't and they're really easy to run around and play in."
"You look like an ice princess!" Nelly told her oldest sister.
"An ice princess?" Pearl frowned heavily, her furrowed brow barely affecting the pearls that hung on her forehead from a chain that disappeared into the intricate braid running from the top of her head all the way down her back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your dress is like the colour they call icy blue, and so's your face paint," Nelly rolled her eyes. Honestly. For a really smart older sister, Pearl could be so silly sometimes. "And you look really sophie-stick-ated, with the pearl necklace and head thingy and the skirt is nice and white and flowy and looks like snow. So you look like a princess that can control the snow and weather, an ice princess, Vinca's a fairy princess and I'm a warrior princess. Duh."
"Oh," Pearl's frown vanished. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Nelly nodded finally, and then something very important came to mind. "Oh, Miss Dana? Can I have a sword now please?"
"You want a sword?" Dana raised her eyebrows.
Nelly nodded. "Mmhm. It would look really, really good."
"Aye, it would, and then Dís would throw me in the dungeons for the night for endangering one of her hobbit babes. Truly, it's not worth the risk."
"I'm not a baby!"
"Nevertheless, you're too young for a sword. Now be a good lass and go and grab me that hair comb, will you?"
"Comb, comb, where is my cursed hair comb?"
"Dís, relax," Thorin said soothingly. "We have time. The comb is here somewhere."
Kíli winced at the glare his mother sent his uncle – to Thorin's credit, the king only cringed a little.
"Yes, but it's not in my hand where I need it to be so that I can finish Fíli's-"
"Amad," Fíli spoke in the exact same tone he had used when Denahi the wolf was growling at Ehren for stepping on his tail. "The comb's tucked behind your ear."
Dís stopped dead in her tracks, blinked once, and then felt behind her ear. "Iklifumun…"
"Take a deep breath," Thorin advised, and for his uncle's sake Kíli was glad that looks could not kill. "It's all going to be fine."
"I haven't even started Kíli-"
"I can do Kíli's hair, and his nakhdu id'ubd," Thorin said, fastening what appeared to be his final braid. "Just finish with Fíli."
Dís pursed her lips together. "Alright. Yes, yes, that sounds like a good plan."
"Ama," Fíli's voice was gentler than a lullaby. "Perhaps we should move to your chambers. You, uh… you left the beads there."
"Get up, let's go!" Dís sighed, swatting her son on the back of the head.
As the pair walked out of the room, Kíli met his brother's eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile. Fíli winked and grinned, and then disappeared.
"I hope you don't mind my doing your hair?"
Kíli laughed. "Of course not! That's a silly question!"
Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you address your king, boy?"
"Only when he asks foolish questions," grinning, Kíli passed his uncle the hairbrush. "So, should I be as worried as Amad is?"
"Not at all," Thorin said, pulling the brush through Kíli's hair. "You mother is simply absorbing the worries of every soul in the kingdom."
"I see…" Kíli paused. "Are you worried?"
"No, I am not. There are many concerns on my mind, it is true, but I am confident that we will be able to cope with anything that does go wrong."
Kíli smiled slightly. Thorin's voice was strong and true, and the lack of panic from his uncle was reassuring.
"I want you to know that I am very proud of you, Kíli," Thorin sectioned of a piece of Kíli's hair and began to braid.
"What?" Kíli blinked. "You are? Why?"
Thorin sounded a little confused. "Well why wouldn't I be? You have been through more difficulties than I would ever wish you to endure since we knocked on your door and you have coped wonderfully… You have grown into a strong, kind and clever prince and that is something to be proud of."
Kíli half smiled. "But I haven't… I haven't always coped wonderfully…"
"You speak of when you thought Fíli and Paladin…"
Kíli nodded, pursing his lips.
After a moment, Thorin sighed heavily. "No one could blame you for that, Kíli. The sons of Durin have a habit of falling apart at the death – or perceived death – of their brothers. You did it, Fíli did it… I did it. In fact, so did my grandfather."
Kíli frowned. "Truly?"
"Aye. Thrór had two brothers, Grór and Frór. Grór was Dain's grandfather, but Frór was killed by a cold drake in his thirty seventh year, alongside his father. It shattered my grandfather, but he pulled through well enough."
"Do the Valar hate our bloodline?" Kíli could not help but whisper beneath his breath.
"That thought has passed my mind many times, but I think not."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I have been blessed with a family far greater and more wonderful than I deserve, and a family that grows and expands in directions I could have never imagined. I am proud of my family, and if we were loathed by the Valar I doubt that would be the case."
Kíli pondered this for a moment. "But doesn't… doesn't that make it worse? If the one stolen from you is so dear to your heart?"
"Yes, and no. The pain is worse, it is true, but I believe it is better to spend a shortened time with incredible folk than to linger on in loneliness and bitterness with no one you trust by your side. Had you not returned from the Shire the sense of loss would have be great, but I would only treasure more the time we spent together."
"That's a good way of looking at things," Kíli sighed. "I wish I could see things that way…"
"It is easier said than done," admitted the king. "But there are people here who can help you. Folk who know how to coax the venom from your thoughts and strengthen your mind once again. When things have calmed down a little I will have Iola speak to you."
"Iola?" the name rang a bell. "The healer? The one who treated Fíli after the battle."
"The very same," Thorin fastened a thick braid at the back of Kíli's head. "She is renowned for her skills in healing the mind."
"Thank you…"
"You are welcome."
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course…" Thorin sounded hesitant.
"And you have to be honest!"
"Very well…"
"Do you swear?"
"I swear it."
Kíli grinned slightly. "Were you angry that I brought so many hobbits with me?"
Thorin snorted. "No, Kíli, I was not angry. Surprised, yes. Very surprised. But I was not angry. It was just unexpected. I would be incredibly hypocritical if I were angry, given what we did to you and Bilbo last year. At least our pantries are holding."
Kíli laughed. "They are for now!"
"There. Your hair is done."
"Already?" Kíli remarked, surprised.
"Yes, already," Thorin reached over to a nearby table and took out a pot of paint and a brush.
"That's the nakhdu id'ubd, isn't it?"
"It is. Now, hold still…"
Kíli did his best not to fidget as Thorin drew a curved line beneath his eye that led up to his nose and then over the other eye, just above his eyebrow. A row of five dots adorned the top of that line, and another five were placed below his first eye. Then Thorin moved the brush up and drew a straight line above that same eye, followed by two shorter ones on either side that curved out. This he repeated upside down, beneath the opposite eye.
"There, you're done."
"That's it?" Kíli blinked. "From what Ama said I expected a much lengthier process…"
"No, that is all you need for today. Anything too elaborate would clash with the crown."
"Crown?" Kíli choked. "Nobody told me I'd have to wear a crown!"
"It's more of a diadem, really," Thorin looked amused. "And you only have to wear it today. People-"
"Thorin! You've finished and you're just standing there like a limp fish! Go and get yourself ready, by Mahal… I live among the most stone headed men in the entire world-"
"Dís, you do realise that you've only done half of your own hair?" Thorin brushed off his tunic.
"Shit," the princess whispered, and then a small smile appeared on her face. "I'm in a right state, aren't I?"
Thorin and Kíli glanced at each other and then nodded.
Dís shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just rather flustered."
"We can tell. I'm going to go and get ready now."
"Good, good…" Dís took a deep breath, and then she looked at Kíli. "Oh, makadmûn you look wonderful!"
"You think so?" Kíli smiled shyly, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was braided back away from his face much like Fíli's was on a daily basis, only more elaborate and allowing for his fringe to remain over his forehead. The sheer volume of his clothes made him feel a little like a dress up doll, but he did admit that he looked more like a prince than he ever had before in his life.
"I do…" Dís smiled. "You look so grown up…"
"You look so grown up!"
"Elladan, get off me!" Estel slapped the elf's hands away from his cheeks. "I'm not a child, get off!"
Elladan smirked. "Not so grown up now, are you? Tut tut, throwing a tantrum like a toddler…"
"I swear by all that is good in this world-"
"You two aren't bickering are you?"
"No!" the pair smiled angelically at Glorfindel.
"We never fight," sincerity dripped from Estel's tone as he flung his arm around Elladan's shoulders.
"Never," Elladan repeated, pinching Estel's cheeks again.
Glorfindel just rolled his eyes. "Elrohir…"
"I don't know them," the other twin stated firmly, without turning from his conversation with Tauriel. "They're behaving like children and I want no part in it."
"Since when?"
Estel grinned and glanced at Tauriel. Glorfindel rolled his eyes again.
"Ah, to be young…"
"Ahem, we're nearly three thousand years old! We are not young!" Elladan protested playfully.
"Come back to me when you hit your mark, child," Glorfindel teased back.
"Shouldn't it be starting soon?" Estel interrupted curiously, gazing towards the huge indoor balcony that the enormous crowd was facing.
They were standing with the nobles of Lake-town, New Dale, Mirkwood, Gondor and Rohan on a large balcony on the right side of the hall, facing the place where the royals were supposedly going to arrive from. Opposite them, on another balcony, stood the dwarven nobles and those from kingdoms further away. On the ground below were the masses – mostly dwarves but also men of Dale and Lake-town, a handful of guards from both Rohan and Gondor and a few Mirkwood elves.
In truth, Estel was not sure he had ever seen so many people in one space in his life.
"Yes, within the next five minutes, I would imagine," Glorfindel nodded.
All of a sudden there was a slight commotion on the other side of their balcony and Estel watched a young boy of about ten years old weave through the crowd and leap onto the railings, peering over as best he could.
"This way, Faramir!" he called excitedly. "You can see from here!"
Almost immediately a boy of about four toddled over, grasping the balcony with chubby hands. "I can't see anything!"
"Here," the older boy smiled and hoisted the little one onto his back. "Can you see now?"
"Mmhm!" said the younger excitedly. "Much better! Thank you, Boromir!"
"You're welcome," the first boy grinned, and then looked over his shoulder. He started when he saw Estel staring at them. "Oh! I'm sorry, sir, did we steal your spot?"
"Nah," Estel grinned. "I can see just fine here."
"Oh, good," the boy nodded. "What's your name?"
"I am Estel," he said with a bow. "What are your names?"
"I'm Boromir," the older boy bowed without shifting the littler one. "Son of Denethor. This is my brother, Faramir."
"Hello!" Faramir waved with a grin.
"Well met, Boromir and Faramir," Estel said with mock solemnity. He knew of Denethor – the lord was the steward of Gondor and Estel had been introduced to him earlier. The man seemed pleasant enough, and had mentioned with a smile that his sons were coming behind with their mother, having been distracted by a dwarven juggler along the way. Still, Estel perceived an odd aura around the man, an aura that made him uneasy. "You are from Gondor, are you not?"
"Mmhm," Faramir pointed proudly towards Denethor. "That's father, he's the Steward! Where're you from?"
"Rivendell," Estel smiled serenely at the very name. "I live in Rivendell."
"Rivendell?" Faramir gaped. "Don't… don't elves live there?"
"You are no elf," Boromir added, his brow furrowing with confusion.
"No, I am a man just like you," Estel nodded. "But my Mother and I dwell in the House of Elrond."
"That sounds wonderful!" Faramir breathed. "Boromir, Boromir, let's go to Rivendell next!"
"Sounds good to me!" the older brother enthused. Then his thoughtful grey eyes turned to Estel. "If you live with the elves, are you really old then?"
"Unless you count nineteen years as old, no."
"That's ten years older than me!" Boromir beamed, and Estel noticed that one of his front teeth was missing.
"Nearly, nearly, Boromir," said Faramir, after pausing to count on his fingers. "You're still eight!"
"Pfft," his brother scoffed. "Only for three weeks. I might's well be nine."
"Well you're not," Faramir nodded, as if that was that, before smiling serenely at Estel. "I'm four whole years old."
"Only just," Boromir protested. "His birthday's in late autumn."
"I see," Estel nodded seriously. "You're both big boys, then."
They nodded very sombrely.
"Do you-"
Their conversation was interrupted by a long, loud note played by some sort of horn, and the three boys were silenced by anticipation. The whole crowd held their breath, and there were no whispers or mutters – it was almost chilling. The hairs on the back of Estel's neck stood on end and he found himself stepping silently closer to the edge of the balcony.
No one made any noise, not even a babe. All that could be heard was the soft rustling of folks' clothes as the shifted where they sat or stood. They were waiting, all waiting, and it took Estel's breath away.
Then the door of the third balcony opened, and King Thorin Oakenshield himself strode out. With a start of excitement, Estel realised that they were closer than he had thought – so close that he could even see the brilliant colour of the king's eyes. Behind Thorin walked Fíli and Kíli, and their mother and Bilbo behind them. The five of them stood before the seats at the very front of the balcony. The seats slightly behind them were now occupied by Lord Dain and his wife and young son, and then the company of Thorin Oakenshield emerged to sit at the back right hand side, along with Marta, Dana and the children. Finally, the other Hobbits arrived and sat at the back left hand side, and that was when the whispers began.
"Oh, Boromir, look Boromir they're so small!" Faramir whispered.
"Shh!" Boromir hushed, but his eyes too were fixed on the hobbits.
Thorin took a step forward, and the whispers stopped as swiftly as they had begun.
"My kin, my friends, and my honoured guests!" the king called. "Welcome to Erebor!"
A loud cheer swelled over the crowd, a cheer Estel was compelled to join, though little Faramir put his hands over his ears.
"As Lord of this mighty mountain it is my great honour to have you all in our halls, to celebrate this fine occasion. Durin's Day has always been a day to be celebrated among our kith and kin, but this year it is so much more than the memory of our great ancestor," Thorin continued. "Today marks a year since we reclaimed our home from the filthy dragon Smaug!"
Another cheer rose up, and the dwarves yelled louder than most, but Estel was not surprised that the men of New Dale shouted just as enthusiastically. They were almost as enthusiastic as Boromir, who was punching the air and about two decibels away from screaming.
At this point, Lord Dain stepped forward. "Shortly, we will commence the official coronation of Thorin, King Under the Mountain, but first there is business to attend to of a more personal nature. As most of you will know, our Prince Kíli, third in line to the throne, was lost to us for more than two decades. A hero worthy of his bloodline, Kíli joined the quest without a fear, but returned afterwards to the home of his father, Master Bilbo Baggins. By hobbit law, they are father and son, and I invite you all here to stand witness to the ceremony that will officiate their bond by our law-"
"What does all that mean?" Faramir whispered.
Estel bent down and murmured back. "Kíli's father is Bilbo, because Bilbo adopted him when he was little. They're going to do a ceremony now to make it legal and official."
"Oh," Faramir nodded. "Thank you!"
"You're welcome!"
By this point Bilbo and Kíli had both stepped forward, and Dain placed a large contract in front of Bilbo.
"Do you, Bilbo Baggins, swear to protect and cherish he who has been put into your care through fate and circumstance?" he said solemnly.
"By my life or death," Bilbo replied with equal graveness. "I do."
"And do you swear to honour and maintain his allegiance to his blood family while accepting him as your son?"
"I do."
"What does that mean?" Faramir asked.
"It means that Kíli is still part of Thorin's family, just as much as he would be if he had never gone missing, but he's in Bilbo's family too," Estel explained under his breath.
"Oh," Faramir nodded. "I understand."
"Kíli, do your swear fealty to both your blood and adopted families?"
"By my life or death," Kíli promised. "I do."
With a wide grin, the Lord tapped the long document. "Sign here, please."
Estel saw Kíli whisper something in Bilbo's ear, and to his amusment he was at just the right angle to read the prince's lips.
"Don't you dare read all of the terms and conditions!"
When the Bagginses had signed, Dain held the contract up for all to see. "Henceforth, Bilbo Baggins will be known as the prince-father, and addressed among the fitting title of Lord. Know that this is awarded not only for the remarkable job he has done in protecting and raising our prince, but for his bravery, heroism and unceasing strength on the quest for Erebor, which almost claimed his life. Likewise, the titles of Lord and Lady shall be awarded from this day to Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck and to Paladin and Eglantine Took, as relations to the royal family and for the sacrifices they have so willingly given to keep our kin safe. Are there any questions or objections to any of these rulings?"
"Why'd they ask that?" Faramir looked confused. "I thought the king could do whatever he wanted and make anybody a lord if he wanted to…"
"Yeah, he can but this way it makes people less annoyed," Boromir explained. "So they're happy because they've been asked."
"Oh…"
"May I ask what sacrifices Lord Dain?" one of the dwarf lords spoke. "I doubt not your word, but I would hear of what you speak with more detail?"
"Their lands were attacked when they hosted our princess and princes, and for love and loyalty they took up weapons, having never partaken in the smallest fray, and fought back rather than sacrifice our kin to their enemies. They watched friends and family be cut down around them while they fought to defend our people, and then they traversed across the world with young children purely for their loyalty to our prince."
"I didn't know that happened," Boromir looked utterly horrified. "Somebody attacked the hobbits? Why would they do that?"
"They were bad people," was all Estel could say.
The lord who had spoken before bowed deeply. "I did not know. I apologise for any offense I may have caused."
"Your apology is appreciated, Lord Jarvis. Now, onto the main affair – would the heirs of the throne of Durin and this here mountain present themselves?"
Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and Dís walked forward to stand on stools before the balcony, their heads held high and their hands clasped behind their backs, save Dís, whose hands were resting on her stomach.
"Sons and daughters of Mahal," roared Dain. "These are your leaders – your king and princess and princes. Will you take them into your hearts and serve them with the loyalty they offer you?"
A thundering chorus of 'aye's and 'yes's rose through the air as every dwarf in the mountain bellowed with all the breath in their lungs.
"Are their any among you that contest their right to rule?"
The silence was more deafening than the cheers, and Estel found himself holding his breath.
Dain surveyed the crowd. "And does any child of Mahal harbour doubts regarding our noble kin? Questions they wish to ask before we proceed?"
After a moment, a woman spoke in the crowd. "Begging your pardon, your highness, but Prince Kíli you left the mountain first chance you could. Whose to say you won't leave again when things go bad, y'see I have to ask and…"
"It's alright," Kíli smiled warmly at the woman. "And understandable. I will return to the Shire twice a decade, every five years in accordance with what my family there desire, but I will always return. I will not turn my back on my people in a crisis. Either people."
The woman ducked and bowed. "Thanking you sir!"
"Any other questions?" Dain demanded.
There was a long moment of silence, and then a call.
"Fíli still owes me five coppers for the pint I bought him last week!"
"Ouch!"
"Shut up Ehren!" Bragi's voice carried over from the other balcony.
Laughter trickled through the crowd and Fíli spoke with a wry smile.
"I do not believe I have any debts outstanding but if that is true they will be paid at the nearest convenience."
"Good!" a muffled yell came from the opposite balcony of the dwarven lords.
"Any more serious questions?" Dain said. "No? Good. Now, I speak to you, our visitors and witnesses. To the Children of Illuvatar I ask you this – have you any doubts you wish to be addressed?"
There was a moment of quiet, and then Lord Denethor spoke. "It is said that Thorin Oakenshield fell to the gold sickness. How can we be certain it will not happen again?"
Boromir smacked his head against the railing, and Estel heard him mutter beneath his breath. "So embarrassing…"
"Having recovered from the sickness I know now the signs better than any other living soul," Thorin said slowly. "If indeed I were to be tempted again I know how to stop myself. And if the impossible were to occur and I fell once more I have no doubt that such an affliction will never curse my sister-sons. They would see things set to rights."
"Very well…" Denethor drawled. "My thanks, your majesty."
Thorin inclined his head.
"Now," Dain said when no more questions arose. " Children of Illuvatar, will you offer your blessing to our monarchy?"
A great cheer arose amongst the men and the elves and Estel cheered as loudly as he could. He noticed the hobbits cheering on the third balcony – Frodo, Nelly and Merry seemed to be having a competition as to who could yell for lonest. They were all turning quiet red.
When the cheering stopped, Thorin, Fíli, Kíli and Dís all bowed.
"Thorin," a hush fell at Dain's single word. "Do you swear as king of this mountain to lead our people fairly, and justly in accordance with our traditions and customs?"
"With all the strength of my heart, I swear it," Thorin declared.
"Do you promise to keep each and every citizen of your kingdom safe, as far as it is within your power?"
"With all the strength of my heart, I swear it."
"Will you lead your people with mercy through war and suffering as well as peace and prosperity?"
"With all the strength of my heart, I will."
"And will you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór do what is best for our race and people, even at the cost of your life?"
"With all the strength of my heart, by my life and by my blood, I will."
A silence, more reverent than the last fell as Dain held a document before the king. As soon as Thorin had signed, Dain turned to the two princes
"Fíli, Kíli, will you, as heirs to the king before you, swear to govern and serve your people in accordance with our laws and customs?"
"By my life, I swear," both brothers replied strongly.
"Will you swear to defend our people by word and by blade, should danger arise?"
"By my life, I swear," they said.
Kíli's eyes darkened a fraction. Estel wondered if anyone else could notice.
"Will you swear fealty to your king , your kingdom and your people?"
"By my life, I swear."
"Do you swear that the power vested in you will be used only for the good of our people, and will never be abused by your hand?"
"By my life, I swear."
"And do you, sons of Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór, swear to give all in your power to keep your people safe if it is ever called for?"
"By my life, I swear," they both said.
"Sign here, if you mean to honour your oaths," Dain gestured to the same document Thorin had signed, and Estel watched as both brothers did so. "Finally, Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór, do you swear to govern, protect and care for your people to the best of your ability?"
"I swear to do so," Dís nodded.
"And, as a woman, do you wish to take your place in line for the throne or relinquish it to your son?"
Faramir frowned up at Estel, who was ready with an explanation.
"Dwarves will let women be queens without kings if they want to, but they usually don't."
"Why not?" Boromir frowned.
Estel shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not a woman."
"With respect and honour, I relinquish my place in line for the throne to my son."
Dain gestured to the document, and Dís signed. Then, Dain grabbed the paper and punched the air.
"Hail, Thorin, King Under the Mountain!"
"Hail, Thorin!" the crowd roared back.
"Hail Fíli, Prince Under the Mountain."
"Hail, Fíli!"
"Hail Kíli, Prince Under the Mountain!"
"Hail, Kíli!"
"Hail, Dís, Princess Under the Mountain!"
"Hail, Dís!"
"I now pronounce the kingdom of Erebor a kingdom in its own right once again!" Dain bellowed.
The applause that followed was absolutely deafening – if Faramir had his hands any firmer over his eyes he would have surely crushed his own skull. Estel himself felt his throat burning with the sound of his enthusiastic cheers.
"Now!" Thorin declared, when it finally quietened a little. "Let the celebrations begin!"
Phew, I hoped you enjoyed that!
A few little notes regarding this chapter – Boromir and Faramir are alive at this time because in canon Boromir is 12 years older than Pippin and I because everything else is so messed up when it comes to ageing I thought I'd throw them in – younger than Aragorn and Gimli and older (at least mentally, if not literally) than the hobbits. I hope you all don't mind :D
Also, I have a little request. This is the hundredth chapter I have written of this story, and it alone has over nine thousand words. It is my happy, happy mission writing this monster of a fic, and every day I see the number of views rise and take my heart with it, so I have a challenge for you.
I want to see how many reviews the 100th chapter can get, so please, if you're reading this chapter and have been amazing enough as to read so much of this story please leave a review, as long or short or good or bad as you want. It's kind of an incredible milestone, haha!
This story is the 6th most reviewed Hobbit fanfic on this site, and that is unbelievable. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and it is an honour writing for you. I'm extremely busy but will write as often as I can, I promise you that. I will never give up on Strangers, just as you have never given up on me.
So please, leave a review and see just how far we can get. Thirty six in a chapter is my record – let's see how high it can go.
Thank you so much for reading, have a great day/night!
