We followed the forest road east until we arrived at the Long Lake, and then north to the mountain. There was only a small settlement of Men near the lake, with few families and fewer comforts, and so we did not linger. It was only a week's journey to the mountain, where we came upon a door that had been carved in centuries past, to a long-forgotten notion of grandeur. It was now decrepit, though scaffolding lined it and up to an overlook that spanned several meters. I shivered in the wintry air, and the whistling wind that entered the vale seemed ominous. Though we waited for several minutes, none came to greet us.

"Announce us," I whispered to a nearby guard. He did so, his voice echoing dully and not at all helping to improve the essence of the place.

Suddenly there was a scurrying from within the walls, and presently a group of dwarves pushed open the door, and bowed us into the darkness of the mountain.

I led my horse, blinking rapidly to try to adjust to the dimness. There were few lights, and far away. We were shown into some makeshift stables, and then I was pulled away to a private room. The lightless corridors were mildly unpleasant, but I caught glimpses of beautifully carved and golden-plated crown molding.

The dwarf that accompanied me spoke the common tongue but a little, and with my base knowledge of Khuzdul, I learned that dinner would be served to us as guests at sundown. I was shown a basin of water in my room, after he dropped my bags onto the floor. He waved to a rope that I could pull to summon help, and when he was finished with his next series of bows, I was left alone.

I washed myself quickly, sufficing with a single cloth for grime that was caked on my face and neck from seven day's travel. Dwarves, I thought to myself. They believe that if a person is not a jewel, they are not worth cleaning. I truthfully did not despite dwarves, for the few I had met during the Ring War had been pleasant enough, and valiant in battle. But I held myself to high standards of cleanliness, despite what Thranduil might think, and so I decided to inquire later of a bath. I made a point to retain my show of appearance despite the odds against me, and changed into a clean, and very modest gown.

It was only an hour until another dwarf came to me to help me find my way through the winding city passages to the hall where the king took his meals. We met my guards along the way, looking slightly cleaner but a bit bemused at their surroundings and the mannerisms of the dwarves. The entrance to the hall was thrown open, and the bright light of fire and smell of fresh meats beckoned us.

"Welcome, my friends!" The old king, Thraín, was standing at the end of a long table, and he opened his arms to us. He was dressed in heavy gold and green velvets that would have been bright and rich in their youth, but like the king himself, were worn with age. This kingdom did indeed need our help. They were putting on cheery façades, but it was clear to me that they were not properly settled, despite living in the mountain for a decade at least.

I crossed the room to the king and curtsied deep enough so that our heads might be level. "Many thanks for the welcome, my lord," I said. "Your invitation and hospitality have been ever so gracious."

"I was expecting your husband, madam," Thraín said in a low voice, as the rest of the guests hashed out where all might sit. The chairs for the elves were much shorter, and had to be switched until all were sitting properly. The king held out my chair for me, and I sat to his right. Across from me sat the first dwarven lady I had seen, veiled so thickly that I could see little else than her general shape. But she wore an emerald on her brow, and so her station was made clear.

"My lovely wife, Fía," Thraín said, and the figure inclined her head towards me. I did the same, smiling slightly at the irony of his statement.

"To answer your inquiry," I said, ignoring the bustle of servants dishing food onto our plates. "My husband rarely leaves the forest. His heart is there, I fear, whereas I have more of a taste for adventuring. I confess to have never seen this part of Arda before."

Thraín laughed heartily. "Perhaps you should have come during the summer! The winters are not the best time for travel."

"I do agree," I said, and I began to eat with all the manners that I could conjure. I was more uncomfortable than I would admit, in the dark heart of a mountain, surrounded by a race that I knew little of, and most of what I knew, was of the animosity between them and my own people. But that would not do. "Do your people have a tale of the city of Nargothrond?" I asked, determined to make a difference.

Thraín looked surprised at my question. "We have a song. It is not often sung, for as you know, it ends in sadness."

"It does for my people," I said. "But I would think that you would be proud of the great accomplishment of the dwarves."

"We are rarely lacking in pride," he chuckled. "We remember the event of the great friendship that existed between your people and mine, I do not believe it has occurred since."

"You refer to Finrod Felakgundu?"

"I do."

Thraín sighed. "We know him as a great elf, perhaps the greatest of them all. But to reward his friendship with the Nauglamir was a folly on our part. I am sure you are aware of the events that ensued."

"I wish not to renew old grievances," I said, looking at him in earnest. "But to remind you of that friendship. Lord Finrod was kin to me."

This set the dwarf back. His mouth fell open gaping, and he stared at me before he could speak again. "How old are you, child?"

I smiled. "Not as ancient as you may believe. I was born after the fall of Beleriand."

"How close was your kinship to Felakgundu?" he insisted.

"Close enough," I said curtly, for I did not want to improve relations at the costs of opening my own wounds. "And though many elves have quarrels with your people, myself and mine have none. I look forward to trading with you, my friend."

This satisfied Thraín, and with his infectious merriness, the rest of the meal passed jovially. I was able to lighten my laughter as well, for I felt relief at my success.

I was a guest of the dwarves for two weeks. I was only able to sneak away from the meetings for a single afternoon, which I spent riding through the vale at high speed, desperate for the feelings of wind and the taste of fresh air. Apart from the stifling oppression of the mountain, the negotiations went quite well, and I knew that the diplomacy tutor from my youth would have been proud at my application of his teachings.

I was no fool, I did not believe for half a moment that dried venison to feed a small civilization for a single night would be the cost of twenty gold coins. I truly had no qualms with dwarves, but they were so very stingy.

Make it feel that there are no losers. I remembered the words from my instructor so well, and as we all shook hands and drank wine when the contract was finally signed, I felt that I had succeeded. That feeling augmented when Thraín led me away from the brunt of the celebration to present me with a small wooden box.

"We are grateful for your wisdom and kindness, Queen Caradel," he said, bowing low. "I wish I could repay you for the lives your generosity will spare, but this is all that I can offer." He opened the box, revealing a delicate bracelet made of – mithril! The design was of interlocking squares, and very cleverly made. "May I?" the king asked.

"Certainly," I said, and held out my wrist to him. He had a delicate touch for such a stout man, and wove the jewelry around my wrist three times before it fit properly. "You have a big heart, my lord. I thank you for the gift," I said as I curtseyed.

Thraín's color rose at my words, and he escorted back to the others and filled my wineglass. I drank deeply, mentally congratulating myself. Thranduil would be satisfied.

Satisfied was an accurate description, though with his polite thanks I wished for more. Pride, perhaps, or appreciation for the dark nights I had spent confined in the mountain, of which I told him in great detail over a private meal in our rooms.

"I am gladdened that you went, instead of I," Thranduil said, wiping his face with a napkin as the meal concluded. "I deal well enough with other races from within my domain, but I do not care to parley in person."

"That is clear enough," I said, serving myself an extra portion of one of my favorite desserts - a tart filled with blackberry custard. "Though you do not seem to have so much a distaste for your own gain, which I think would be welcome even in the presence of others."

"My needs and pleasures are easily filled by our own economy. There is little enough I desire from outside the forest."

"Even the satisfaction that derives from helping others to obtain their needs and pleasures," I muttered, half to myself.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at my statement, but did not press the issue.

"I do believe," I said slowly, as I finished my tart in the tense silence. "You will one day find yourself disadvantaged for your isolation. There is little good that comes from hiding."

"I am not hiding."

"You certainly are not not hiding."

He opened his mouth to reply, finally looking annoyed enough to argue the point, when a knock sounded at the door. "Enter!" the king barked, not taking his shrewd gaze from me.

A page stepped through the door and bowed. "A missive for the queen," he said, presenting it to me. I stood and accepting it, glancing quickly at the writing.

"From Belegorn!" I exclaimed, tearing open the seal with the intention of reading it straightaway.

Thranduil sighed and stood. "I will leave you to it, my love. I –"

"Will you not stay to hear his news?" I asked in surprise, to which he gave a wan smile.

"I remain too incensed to find pleasure in hearing his words. You may report to me his doings, if you wish," he swept from the room into his study as he spoke. The antagonism between them pained me, but I pushed the matter from my mind to concentrate on the letter.