A Presence Known

-2946-

Cairn cringed when he heard a rather loud thump beneath his thin legs. All he saw was a great darkness beneath his eyelids, but could hear everything. The thump rattled the stone walls of the Ered Mithrin settlement and he opened his eyes gazing down at Freya, whose head was lowered to the floor. The scent of flesh and metallic blood reached his nose making his curiosity peak. He flexed his ebony wings once, flapping down to the ridge of Freya's eyebrow to see that she had snagged a large musk ox during his slumber upon her horn. That or she moved him; which he didn't want to think about since he still feared this dragon. He dove down to the floor, landing on a slightly gnawed on rib bone that was stark white from Freya's pink tongue that flicked over the remains of blood and flesh.

"How are you this morn, little raven?" Freya asked chewing on a bit of the ox's thigh. Cairn picked at a piece of red-pink flesh and he swallowed the meat which left a slightly sour taste in his mouth. The musk ox's meat tasted grainy like it had been eating something putrid. He did not object to free food in the slightest, but continued to pick apart the remains that Freya had flicked his way while she chewed on the thigh.

"Quite well," Cairn replied as he flipped a bit of meat into the air. Freya gave him a faint smile as she dragged the devoured corpse away. Cairn saw in a dimly corner, a pile of furs that Freya hoarded. Her long talons slit the collar of the ox, and she tore the coat of the ox away from the spine and bones like someone removes clothes. The sound of ripping made him little stomach turn and he turned away, shutting his eyes. His voice became hesitant. "And you?"

Freya let out a hum, "Ready to fly, I believe."

"But, you just ate," Cairn muttered hopping up to her scaly nose ridge. Freya's great eyes watched him with a playful expression shining within. He did not know whether or not to be scared. "I know I cannot fly after eating."

"Oh where is your sense of adventure? You shall ride on my back, or on my head, and I will simply walk out of my home onto the plains of Erebor. Believe me, I walk quite slow." He stared up at her in disbelief, why would they walk when he had to report back to Thorin by first light? He hopped toward her a bit and she laughed. "Come on now, get up on me."

"But-,"

"No buts, let's go."

Cairn flew up onto the Dragoness' horn as she passed him to leave. The little raven found it quite difficult to sit on her horn with her clambering up the sides of the settlement, and it was not until they reached the forest beneath the mountain that Freya's gait evened out. When he looked up, all Cairn saw was lowered clouds and dark green pine trees that were buzzing with the songs of thrushes, chickadees, and blackbirds. Such a song was like an orchestra all being played by the Earth Mother's gentle hand. Not even the slight crunch of leaves dampened the birds' melody. He shut his eyes, feeling the bob of Freya's mighty head.

Little Dragon so little and brave,

My little lion heart you are forever mine

Until the passes of time take you to the grave.

Little Dragon, why do you burn the pine?

Great Dragon Lord of many Holds

You seek great riches in halls of stone,

Your eyes only seek that, which is gold

Dead Dragon Lord, I sit upon your throne.

Fair Dragoness with beauty at hand,

Your eyes and scales are bright

But your mind drifts in the sand

Old Dragoness, all you sought was a white knight.

Cairn's heart let out a small, painful twinge at the song of the Great Queen. She sang of her people, her people who were driven to madness, people driven into submission at the hand of Melkor. Her cultivated, alto voice was quite somber throughout the entirety of the song as she sang of children, great lords, and beautiful ladies all whom turned either to ash or became thralls of war. He leapt off of her horns, landing in the space of her broad shoulder blades that moved like mighty gears. He glanced up at the head of Freya, which was hung low as she hummed out the melody of the song. None of his people could sing like this; they knew no song of dark times, of death, or of watching loved ones sink into madness.

"Did they all fall like that?" Cairn asked in random thought.

Freya let out a sad hum that sounded like a whimper. She halted before the edge of the great forest that overlooked the expanse of plain that stood at Erebor's foot that was seemed oh so very far. He flew off of her back towards her eyes to see her amber eyes shut tightly in sorrow. He had not meant to grieve her in any way; he was simply curious.

"The song tells you just want happened, children became thralls of war, Lords became avaricious, and dragoness' became bitter, vain, and mad with grief. My mother was one of the many who became mad when my father was slain." Freya stated firmly with her amber eyes snapping open to where his little heart threw itself against his rib cage in fright. "Come little raven, let us fly."

"Ladies first," Cairn chuckled as he flew away from the dragoness and landing on a pine tree branch. Freya unfurled her mighty, leathery wings that appeared a deep burgundy in the sunlight that was peaking upon the horizon and faintly painting the horizon in pale pinks, blues and yellows. She crouched low like a mountain lion with her tail swishing to align herself properly before launching into the air. Cairn joined her in the sky, finding to not fall out of the sky with her wings whipping the winds to her disposal. "A most excellent launch, Freya."

"Why thank you," Freya replied with a bow of her head. "Lead on, Cairn."

And so the little raven flew frantically to keep up with Freya's mighty wingspan. He had to stop and sit on her back to rest, but nonetheless led her to the back of Erebor. When he entered his roost, and then weaving his way throughout the mountain kingdom. The stone halls did not glimmer with morning light quite yet, nor did they gleam with firelight. The upper levels were still at rest, most likely meaning that Thorin was not awake yet. He flew back to Freya, landing on her horn to talk into her ear.

"The King and Queen are still asleep, thus allowing you some time to rest." Cairn reported. "I need to return to my family, but will fetch you when Thorin is ready."

"I understand," Freya said with a click of her claws upon the base of the mountain. "Go; be with your family, Cairn."

Now, Cairn did return to his family but then ventured off to the balcony of his king where he waited… He waited like a good little raven who was the messenger of the king and nothing more.

Thorin heard a scratching around in the sitting room attached their bedroom, and to the best of his ability he attempted to ignore it. The deep darkness was calming for nothing bothered him here, no problems concerning a fool's idea of running to Dwarrowdelf, or the problem of Amren's catatonic state. His eyes cracked open when the scratching continued. He felt Coruwen shift beneath his arm that was wrapped around her loosely. A bit of light allowed him to see her pale, bare shoulders with her golden hair tumbling down onto the bed. She let out a small sigh, and he leaned over her sleeping form to see her face peaceful and in a dreamless sleep. He gingerly tucked a few strands of gold behind her ear allowing him to kiss her cheek softly. He left her side to dress before investigating the strange scratching sound.

"Thorin?" Coruwen's hoarse voice whispered. He froze in the tightening of his belt to glance over his shoulder at her. Deep sky blue eyes that were deeply etched with grogginess stared at him. She was oddly tired in his eyes, and he fixed his appearance as he once was. He heard the shuffling of sheets sparked memories in his mind of her voice whispering to him in the darkness, and the feel of her soft skin beneath his hand. He shook off the thoughts, wandering his way toward her. She was still her previous position, but her legs were drawn closer to her. He sat beside her with one hand resting on her covered hip.

"What is the matter?" He asked softly. Coruwen let out a sigh that was muffled by her hands. "Coruwen?"

"Where are you going?" She replied in a firm voice. Her voice was quiet, but nonetheless firm in slight demand.

Thorin smiled and moved his hand up to her face, where he traced her pointed ear to jaw. Her face shifted at the touch so her face was looking at him fully. She was pale and seemed to glow in the dim light that tried to sneak into the room. Her eyes were half slits but blue peaked out nonetheless. "I have some things to attend to; you should rest."

"No, I will come-," Her voice drifted off as her head sunk back into pillow in sleep. He blinked in shock at her sudden sleepiness. Never before had she done this to him, at most she would surface enough and talk to him for a bit. He searched within himself, for their bond was still strong and he searched her spirit. He felt no strong, brilliant aura from her like he typically did. It was like a candle flickering low, but strong. His hand traced her hairline to where she nuzzled his hand when it passed against her cheek.

"Sleep, my queen, you need not follow me," Thorin whispered kissing her forehead. Her head lolled back to the side with the front section of her hair covering bits of her face. He slipped quietly out of the room and found Cairn sitting upon the hearth with his beak tucked beneath his wing. Thorin found this a bit unbelievable at first to behold, but he narrowed his eyes at Cairn. He cleared his throat, startling the raven awake. "You're back early…"

"I told you first light, did I not?" Cairn laughed as he flew over to the king's shoulder. There was a glimmer of playfulness in the raven lord's eyes as Thorin looked up at him. He had been correct in his timing, to which he mentally praised Cairn for. The raven was an excellent messenger. Cairn's voice dropped low, "Is the queen asleep still?"

"Aye and she does not plan on moving, I believe," Thorin replied in a hushed voice, stroking Cairn's chest with two fingers. The lord nudged the king's hand away with a muffled squawk. "I did not believe that elves could tire as quickly as my wife has. It is rather strange."

"Strange?" Cairn bobbed up and down before lifting into the air. "You should not worry about your beloved, my king. She will be fine. Come, follow me to Queen Freya."

The king and raven ventured through the kingdom to a high balcony where Freya's head could meet the eyes of Thorin. He was surprised to Find Freya lying in the long shadow of his mountain with her head held high watching the clouds. When her amber gaze fell upon him and flicked over, he greeted her welcoming nudge with a raised hand. Her scales were smooth with a slight sheen in the morning light.

"Greetings Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror," Freya greeted. Thorin bowed his head to her and she removed her nose from beneath his hand.

"And the same to you, Freya, daughter of Ancalagon, descendent of Glaurung," Thorin replied. The dragoness gave him a pleased look for she could not smile easily. Her amber eyes twinkled with happiness to see him and be back in the place of her summoning. The sole reason Freya was alive was because of Coruwen, and her finding of Freya's last scale that had been kept in Thror's horde. "I hope it was not too much trouble for you to come down from the mountains."

"Nay, it was not. I was starting to miss this beautiful mountain and all of her glory. And I was beginning to miss you and my Dear One." Freya said with a bit of pride swelling in her voice. "Cairn said you needed my counsel, Great King… Whatever would you need the counsel of an old dragoness for?"

"Sauron…" Freya's lips slightly curled up into a snarl at the sound of the name, for Freya's father had been poisoned by Morgoth at one point. No doubt great hatred lingered in the dragoness' blood for the Dark lord's servant. Thorin also saw the amber eyes of the queen darken to the color of aged amber with veins of fire red glowing bright. A small bit of black smoke escaped Freya's lips as she snarled, but she managed to regain her calm demeanor. "I see that name still stings…"

"Damn that foul Maia to the farthest reaches of the Shadowlands!" Freya growled deep within her chest, which rivaled the rumbling ferocity of a thunderstorm at full strength. Thorin had seen Freya mad at others, but never before had she cursed someone to the lands of the Wraiths. Freya shifted uncomfortably in her own skin, but managed to situate herself with her paws crossed right over left. "I am sorry for my outburst."

"It is understandable," Thorin heard her let out a heavy sigh. "I need to know where Sauron will go, since my wife is in the belief that he has fled somewhere else."

"Mordor," Freya replied simply. "He will flee to Mordor since it was a stronghold of Morgoth, but he is weak currently. He most likely will draw back his strongest wraiths, who will in turn aid his journey. The power of the son of Oropher will be strong enough to cast him away, but not enough to overthrow a strong Wraith like the Witch-King. The Wraiths are his strong weapons, thus you must fear them. They will hunt anything they believe is the Ring and will hunt until the life fades from this good earth."

"We have met one Wraith all ready, and he hurt Coruwen. Thranduil told me he was an Easterling king at one point, by the name of Khamûl."

"That is the left hand of Sauron, whilst the Witch-King of Angmar is his right. Khamûl is a crafty Wraith for he knows these lands well enough, and most likely cannot be overthrown by Thranduil."

"Freya, what will happen should Sauron be at full strength once more?"

Freya grumbled, "As you know all ready, the Elves are leaving these lands to venture back to their homeland of Valinor for the life of Arnor is fading. This gives Sauron a foothold in this world by allowing him to push past the elves and strike at something more... Vulnerable."

"What race is vulnerable?"

"Men," Freya nudged him softly to which he ran a hand up the bridge of her nose. Her amber eyes were stern, but her voice gentle while she spoke. "Men are creatures that desire power, but not all Men are weak. When he will strike, he will strike at the leaders with poison and their troops with wrath. It will take Hope to fix the race of Men and unite them under one banner."

"Hope?"

"Yes, hope. Even though it is small and no bigger than a grain of sand, it has the ability to overcome all obstacles."

"What must my people do to withstand Sauron's wrath?"

"You have been doing it all this time, Thorin." Freya chuckled, but it made the king confused. What had he been doing? He narrowed his eyes at Freya, for she was speaking in riddles just like a certain wizard. It was rather irritating to listen to. His hand rested upon the pommel of Orcrist. The Daughter of Ancalagon shook from head to tail as the sun's light bathed her in a pale light with her rosewood scales catching the flecks of light making them shimmer with a pale iridescence. "Oh, what has you in a bind, hmm?"

"Stop beating around the bush, Freya."

"Your people have been fighting against Sauron for years, but you, Son of Thrain, have been eluding the Dark lord by commanding your people to stand together and never scatter. To never look at something with a one dimensional outlook, and most importantly that even the smallest of changes can bring prosperous things to a once lost kingdom."

He shook his head at her words, but she nudged him that made him slightly stumble backwards. Her force was great, and she barely even using a small fraction against him. He growled at the dragoness' gesture which made her swish her tail like a dog. "What small change are you speaking of?"

"Your wife has brought great change, has she not?"

He sighed, not wanting her to be correct, but deep within he knew she was right. Coruwen had brought a certain light to his kingdom that only a queen could give. He looked up to the halo of mist that encircled the peak of the mountain and was able to see through its mists to the cloudless, blue sky. His gaze shifted back down as he heard Freya's wings open. The wind was ever at the dragoness's command for her wings were strong and broad.

"Freya," Thorin said as the dragoness rose from her previous position to stand in the light. She glanced over her wing at him with a bit of curiosity in her amber eyes. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Thorin, King under the Mountain. I am going to fly for a bit, tell your people I mean no harm and I shall not eat them."

And with that, Freya galloped forward and launched herself into the sky. If he had ever known that his greatest ally would be one of the very creatures that took his home, he would have thought himself mad. Freya had proved her worth to him just as Coruwen did, through sheer stubbornness and battle. However, Freya still gave him reason to not trust her entirely, for Freya still had the blood of her father in her veins and Ancalagon was known for being ruthless. His daughter, sadly, obtained that attribute when battle was waged before her. It seemed as if all other emotions were tossed aside in her fits of ruthlessness. As he watched the dragoness spiral and fly in the sky, a hand rested upon his shoulder. His attention snapped backwards to see Dís, who wore a dress of dark blue with a cloak of fur draped on her shoulders. Her dark hair was free of its typical artistic braid, and some of it hung in her eyes.

"Dís, you're up early," Thorin said quietly as he turned to face her. She smiled softly at him, and then came to stand at the railing of the balcony to watch Freya. "Am I to guess you heard her?"

"She is a dragon, I have not forgotten the sound of a dragon's wings whipping the air," Dís replied. Her tone was quite stern, and the long standing hatred between dragons and dwarves still lingered in her voice and blood. Dís was still very apprehensive of dragons. "Why is she here?"

"I needed her counsel upon a few matters," Thorin told her, watching his sister out of the corner of his eye. Her shoulders rolled back with her fingers knitting together into a steeple and coming to rest upon the stone. That answer was clearly bothering her. "Dís, she means no harm to us. Freya is quite tame…" Dís' eyes flicked over to him and were slowly darkening with anger. "I am of the same mind as you when it comes to dragons, but Freya is quite honorable."

"Thorin, need I remind you that thing is the mother of Smaug? Evil is in her blood, it is just a matter of time," Dís hissed. Her voice was beginning to fill with a venomous anger that only grew as her eyes darkened. "I do not know how you can trust her."

"Freya would not have blessed Coruwen and I had she been of evil nature. I know that she is Smaug's mother, but we have trusted her thus far. She is an ally of Coruwen's, and my wife does not typically have allies as close to her as Freya."

He saw Dís take a mental step back and he rested a hand on his sister's. Her topaz eyes rose to his sapphire ones. Regret was etched into her eyes as she looked up at him. It reminded her much of when they were young and he would have to scold her. But oddly, he thought of Coruwen's words the previous night about Dís and Kili, who they both deemed as similar. As he looked at his sister, he saw the same identical look of regret that Kili had when he was caught or upset; though Kili did not possess the same eye color.

"Dís…"

"I sound like father," Dís muttered, ashamed. She leaned into him, burying her face in his hair. "I sound exactly like him…"

"No, you most certainly do not, sister of mine." His hand reached up, stroking her dark hair gently. "Our hatred of dragons has been long standing, and it is only recently that we have set that hatred aside. I understand where your hatred comes from, for I have felt it once before."

Dís pulled away from him, looking outward to Freya, who was literally dancing with the wind. Under her breath, she whispered. "Old hatreds aside, I must admit she is beautiful."

Thorin withheld a smile at his sister's awe by turning his gaze back inside. In his spirit, he felt something shift; if felt like something was crawling underneath his skin. He looked to Dís, and then back inside. The day had arisen from its blanket of sleep earlier than he anticipated, he had hoped to return to Coruwen and wake her, but knowing Balin and Fili, they were up and looking for him currently. He glanced over his shoulder at Dís.

"Dís," He said gently. The gentleness of his own voice slightly startled him, and it was clear that it had surprised his sister as well. Her topaz eyes blinked in shock of the sound of name. "Could you keep an eye on Coruwen?"

Dís turned to face him fully, giving him a bow of her head. "Why? Is something wrong?" She replied. He could not exactly tell her why; it was just a feeling that was bothering him. She stepped forward, lacing a hand on her brother's shoulder. "I am not complaining… I will keep an eye on her for you. Though she may not appreciate it."

"Knowing Coruwen, yes." He shifted his weight onto his heels. "I believe that Balin and Fili are looking for me, and I do not want to keep them searching forever."

Dís laughed, "Where is your sense of fun, brother? Eluding my eldest and our oldest friend is far more fun than walking up to them." He smiled at his sister's possible game. "I was the one who came up with the idea of eluding you and Frerin, remember?" She started to walk back into Erebor, "Silly brother of mine."

"Tease me if you will, Dís."

"Tis my job, Thorin," Her laughter faded into the depths of Erebor and he shook his head with a small smirk on his lips. Forever his sister would be young in that regard. He had always admired his sister for her ability to remain rather young in the regard of play. Her quips and games were one of the few things that brightened his life. Before he met Coruwen, Dís was his light. It never crossed his mind that was why Dís had been jealous of Coruwen in the very beginning. Simple things that were now in the past had so easily slipped by him and it bothered him a bit. Before turning to find Balin and Fili, he looked to Freya and the great expanse of land behind Erebor. A bit of nostalgia plucked certain heartstrings making him look at the land longer than he desired.

"Uncle?" Kili's voice asked from the door. Thorin snapped out of his daze, looking to his youngest nephew. Kili stood alone in the doorway with curiosity in his gold eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Kili," He replied in a firm voice. It was then that Kili narrowed his eyes at his uncle and Thorin mentally awaited Kili to chew him out, but instead Kili gave him a smirk. He raised an eyebrow to Kili, who rolled his eyes.

"I miss it too," Kili said in a longing voice. Thorin eyed Kili curiously, and his nephew sighed. "I miss Bilbo and the Shire, but I know we cannot leave Erebor."

"Not until times are at peace once more."

Kili looked to his uncle with a look of happiness and hope. "Are you-?"

Thorin patted Kili's shoulder before disappearing back into Erebor in search of Fili and Balin, who were more than likely hunting high and low for him.

Dís opened the door to her brother's chambers quietly, silently hoping Coruwen would not wake from the noise. The room was only lit by the light of the sun that streamed through the balcony casting dancing shadows into the room. The door to the bedroom stood cracked open with pitch darkness looming within. Dís tore her gaze away from the door to a woven tapestry of Smaug in a background of gold and red. The dragon was not the same for his underbelly was imbued with melted gold and jewels, all that Dís could see were his cream scales. This dragon was not Smaug the Golden, but Smaug, son of Freya. His bearing was that of a queen's son, for his head was held high with his great golden orbs shining brightly. He was kingly in appearance.

Something caught Dís' eye as she turned away from the picture of Smaug. A glimmer of silver and white catching the soft sunlight. Upon a chair, folded into a neat square, was a silver shift with pearlescent beads of white and black thread. Gently, Dís examined the shift to find the stitching done by her sister in law; though it was not complete. The shift was made of a light satin, quite possibly no lighter than air. A rustling was heard behind her, and she turned her attention backward to the bedroom's oaken door. In a most quiet manner, Dís snuck near the door to see Coruwen still asleep. Or so she thought, for Coruwen sat up with the fur blanket hugged to her chest.

"Dís, why are you here?" Coruwen asked groggily, her voice hoarse. Dís smiled, walking up to the elf queen, who appeared quite pale in the grey darkness. Gold hair was spilling over her shoulders like she had been when she was asleep, but it was far frizzier than Dís thought it would normally be. The elleth's hair was long enough to where it touched the dark blanket at her slender hands clutched.

"Thorin told me to come keep an eye on you before you woke," Dís stated. "I am here if you need me, sister."

Coruwen sighed, "That is very unlike my husband, most of the time he comes back to wake me. Is he busy this morning?"

Dís nodded and walked out of the room as the elf rose from the bed. She heard a whispered curse of Sindarin when the thud of the fur hitting floor came to her ears. She smiled at the sound and let out a muffled laugh. "Yes, he is. I believe he had a meeting with Bard later this evening."

"That will drive him insane, and am I to assume that Fili and Balin are going with him?" Dís narrowed her eyes at the statement, with two fingers twirling strands of black waves around. She knew that Balin would at least accompany Thorin to the meeting, but Fili was another matter. Though with the tensions between the advisor and king, Fili might be the only option considering Dwalin could not even be around his older brother currently. Dís sat in a high backed chair that sat beside the tapestry of Smaug. She heard the creak of a door, and Coruwen's gentle voice that made her look up to the see her sister in law standing in the doorway wearing a dress of stellar jay blue with black lining around the collar, sleeves and hem of the dress. "Dís, what is the matter?"

"It is Balin," Dís made a steeple with her fingers and her gaze locked upon the stone floor. Coruwen tipped her head to the side in curiosity, and Dís continued. "He and Thorin aren't on exactly…" She let a sigh, "Equal ground right now. You know my brother and his grudges."

Coruwen let out a huff of laughter, shaking her head. "Yes that I do. Thorin cannot stay mad at Balin forever, it is simply not done." She touched Dís' shoulder, who stiffened. "Then we are without our lion today."

Dís relaxed placing her fingertips upon the slender hand of the elven queen. "We do have someone else who would like to see you." She looked up to Coruwen's face and saw bright curiosity and confusion. "Meet me on the highest balcony that overlooks the North."

"Why there-?" Coruwen shook her head. "All right, so be it."

Dís gave her a genuine smile before departing the room. Coruwen found a decorative comb formed of ivory and carved to depict an elanor flower that grew in Lothlórien, and was a gift from Thranduil. It made her heart ache to see the beautiful gold flowers of Lothlórien captured into a single comb. She gathered certain sections of her hair and tucked the comb into the waves. It was then that something touched her mind, a presence. It seemed familiar, like one of her family was nearby, but she knew Dís had passed on out of her mind's eye and the boys were not present, nor was Thorin. It bothered her, but she put it aside and followed Dís up to the highest balcony that overlooked the plains between Ered Mithrin and Erebor.

The world was turning dead again, for the long shadow of winter was looming overhead. The skies were lucky clear of any grey, but the wind was cool. Coruwen met the light blue eyes of Dís, who gestured up. She did not particularly like the mischievous glint in the princess' eyes, but did as she motioned and looked up. What sat upon the peak of her mountain startled her.

Upon the tip of Erebor, perched like an elegant swan, was Freya with her long tail curled around the peak as it descended close to the halo of mist. The dragoness' scales glimmered in the bright sunlight with her angular horse head held high with her amber eyes shut in the bliss of feeling the wind graze her scales. Coruwen smiled up at Freya, and then called to her.

"Dear One!" Freya boomed as she opened her wings for flight. The dragoness dove down from the peak, landing upon the ground in a muffled thump. Coruwen extended one hand out for Freya, who brought her nose forward to touch. Her scales were cool from the winds. "Greetings, my little queen."

"Hello, Freya," Coruwen replied softly. "So that Cairn went off to in the late hours of the night." Coruwen looked down at Dís, giving her a smile. "Thank you, sister." The princess bowed her head, and disappeared into Erebor leaving Coruwen with Freya. "Why are you here?"

"Your husband sought my counsel upon the movements of Sauron," Freya stated with a bit of edginess in her voice. Coruwen felt the bite of her words, for she remembered Freya's hatred of the Dark Lord and his ilk. She took in Freya's dark amber eyes that were clouded by wrath. Though slowly, Freya's disdain died down. "I am here to help Thorin understand the world that travels south."

"Sauron moves south, you say?" Freya nodded and returned her head back. Her claws scratched the side of the mountain creating a loud screech that made Coruwen's ears hurt. She covered them as Freya's claws objected to being used as mere distractions for anger. "Freya! Stop!"

Freya looked down at her with one paw raised to scratch the mountain again. Amber eyes peered down at the elf queen in bewilderment, but she lowered her paw when she saw Coruwen's discomfort. Freya had never seen Coruwen uneasy like that before, and it made her curious. Her mind thought of the only reason to why Coruwen was uneasy, but she merely shook it free of herself.

"I am sorry," Said Freya "Sauron still to this day bothers me…"

"Freya, You are not poisoned…" Her words drifted off when a dwarf woman came running up the steps that led to the balcony with worry written across her face. It concerned both queens when the messenger spoke of Iris being in trouble. Coruwen knew that Bard kept a guard with Iris should she decide to leave the city, but the guard would have dealt with the issue then and there. Why come to the Queen under the Mountain? Firmly, Coruwen spoke, "What has happened?"

"The Lady Iris… She has gone into labor early, my queen." The woman said gravely. Coruwen's heart stopped with her eyes shutting for a brief second to think. Iris was only twenty five weeks, thus the child had little to no chance of surviving. The elleth tightened one hand into a fist, giving the woman a nod. "Shall I call for anyone else, milady?"

"Merida, and tell her to go to Dale with haste," Coruwen ordered as she darted past the woman, who seemed shocked to see her queen running. Coruwen darted down a series of steps, and came to stop before the gate where Grimbolt and Dwalin stood. A slight bit of confusion crossed Dwalin's features at seeing her before him, and she saw his hand tighten around the hilt of his hammer. "Open the gate, Dwalin."

"Where do you need to go?" Dwalin asked suspiciously. Coruwen let out a groan, finding it a tad annoying that Dwalin did not do as she asked. Typical Dwalin, she thought. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he smirked. "Go on…"

"Thank you," She breathed as she passed him. As she walked out onto the road, she let out a shrill whistle. In response, a whinny came. Like a blonde colored star, Faenaur trotted up to his mistress with white mane tossing about in the wind. For an Elven steed, he was aging quite quickly with his once pink muzzle gaining patches of grey and his almond eyes had less of their stubborn fire. She smiled in relief that he had come, and she reached forward, grabbing a hold of a clump of white, course hair. "Faenaur, ride to Dale." She pulled herself up as his shoed feet rapped the ground as he waited for her. Once situated upon his back, she clicked her tongue for him to gallop off.

The mahogany gates of Dale stood closed with two guards dressed in gold and red stood sentinel, their faces stern. The halberds of these great warriors were engraved with Cirth runes and told the elven queen they from her city. These men were the Guard of the Lord of Dale, for their dress was colored the same but they wore long cloaks of blood red fabric and held together by clasps depicting gold stars. One of the men walked up to Coruwen, bowing to her in greeting.

"I was called by the Lady of Dale," Coruwen said firmly. The guard was mute, but gave her a bow of his head in reply before turning and raising one hand. The gates of Dale cracked open and were surprisingly thick with an inlaid sheet of steel in between the rich brown-red mahogany wood. Faenaur trotted inside and up to the house of Bard, where more men stood in the same dress as the ones that guarded the outside.

Dale was a city fashioned of wheat gold stone and maroon shingles with ivy, jasmine, and many types of climbing flowers grew; though now they were reduced to a dormant state because of autumn. What Coruwen found strange was that no people laughed, danced, or ran in the streets. All was silent. She found that the only song that was being played was by the oak or silk trees. The beat to the tree songs was from Faenaur's hooves that rapped the stone.

Coruwen left Faenaur to the Guardsmen and entered the house of Bard to find it silent as well. She thought there would be at least a scream or shout… The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end when she heard the clatter of a tray hitting wooden floor. It was then that she heard a most blood curdling scream, and it belonged to Iris. She ran towards the backroom to find Iris with two women hanging over a basin of water.

Iris' hazel eyes fell on Coruwen and the queen saw glistening tears running down her pale face. The lady's black hair clung to her forehead, for she shook from head to toe as she winced in pain again. Coruwen felt dread cling to the air when she walked up to Iris' head, taking her hand.

"Why did you call me?" Coruwen asked moving aside some of the lady's black hair when her head bowed forward. Iris leaned against the queen's arm. Through her dress's sleeve, Coruwen could feel that the wife of Bard was cold. Iris winced again, her hand tightening around Coruwen's in a strong grip that nearly crippled her hand. The fight had left Iris' eyes and she fell back against the sheets of the bed, panting. "Iris…"

"Lydia, are they-?" Iris panted with her eyes shutting. Coruwen saw the woman, Lydia, look up to her and she shook her head. Coruwen moved aside some of Iris' dark hair as her breathing evened out and deepened. The elf queen stood, walking over to Lydia inspecting what had occurred. In the mess of blood that was being soaked up by the white sheets, laid a malformed child. Its small hands were curled into fists with ashen skin from being newly birthed, and its back was hunched. Coruwen felt her stomach turn as she looked up at Lydia, who was clearly unnerved as well.

"They were twins," An elder woman stated with a bit of sympathy in her voice. "This is not the lady's fault, Lydia. Sometimes things like this happen."

"Then what do we tell Bard?" Coruwen said in a stern voice. Both women looked to her, shocked. She could not believe that the women of this race treated death and life so casually. It sent anger into her blood to see women casting the children of Bard and Iris aside. "Will we tell him that his children were monsters and died; almost practically killing Iris?"

"My Lady, no. We will tell them that they were stillborn," The elder hissed, "Tis what we tell all the parents of monsters such as this. If we tell them that their children were monsters, then they will not create more heirs."

Coruwen stared at the woman in disbelief. "You are treating them like they are rabbits! They are no pet you can keep in a cage! This was clearly a mistake made by Mother Nature…"

"The Lady Iris was using odd herbs to help herself become fertile," Lydia whispered. Coruwen glanced at her in shock, for the woman seemed ashamed. "I told her not to use them, but she said it was for the better of her people."

Coruwen shook her head. "That is not how a marriage should function. Iris was a fool to think that Bard would love her if she only created heirs for him. The Lord of Dale loves his lady greatly, and will understand." Lydia swallowed her fears, but shuddered as she looked upon the monstrous child. Coruwen took the young woman in her arms, letting her calm herself down. She narrowed her eyes at the elderly woman, who scoffed at Lydia's fears. She would not say it aloud, but she desired to ring the woman's neck for her insolence and inconsiderate behavior. In Lydia's ear she whispered, "I am going to find Lord Bard, take care of Lady Iris…"

"What of the children?" Lydia murmured.

"Leave them; we need to make a point, though it seems a bit inhumane." Coruwen departed the room and approached a guardsman, who saluted her by raising two fingers up to his temple. "Tell me, where is the Lord Bard?"

"The Lord?" The guardsman hummed, digging his spear hilt into the ground. "He should be returning about now, Lady Queen."

"Thank you," Coruwen replied motioning for him to be at ease. Coruwen waited beside Faenaur for Bard, by playing with his white mane of hair. She braided long sections of his mane together into one long rope of course horse hair. It was then that she felt the familiar presence once more as she had earlier and she whirled around with her blue eyes searching high and low for the source. Nothing once more; she thought she was going mad.

"Queen Coruwen!" Bard's voice yelled. Coruwen's gaze landed on Bard, Fili, and Thorin, who were standing beside two guardsmen. Bard, who was typically a jovial man as of late, became quite grim when he caught her facial expression. His brown eyes narrowed in suspicion when she did not speak right away and he strode forward with his fur lined cloak billowing behind him emphasizing his agitation. "Why are you here?"

"Seek out Iris, my lord," Coruwen told him in a firm voice. "That will answer your questions."

"Why?" Bar replied sternly. He looked to his home and then at the elleth. "Explain."

Coruwen whirled to face him with irritation flaring in her voice. "Do as you're told, Lord."

Bard entered his home, calling out for Iris. Coruwen lingered behind for a moment, and then followed him to the room where Iris laid asleep. To her ears reached a series of curses in the old language of Dale that described what he saw. Monsters, foul heathen children. Iris did not waken at the sound of her lord's voice, but Bard stepped out of the room with his face flushed of all color and his brown eyes full of terror.

"W-What w-were those…things?" Bard stuttered slightly pointing to the room. Coruwen placed a hand on his shoulder, explaining what had occurred to his children that were supposed to be normal. And slowly, Bard became more and more horrified at his wife's actions. When Coruwen finished speaking, he covered his face with both hands, shaking his head. "Iris, you fool."

"I will not become a part of your disputes, but I suggest you speak with Iris," Coruwen whispered, standing. Bard nodded in agreement, and she left the manor with Faenaur. For Thorin and Fili had departed to Erebor once they knew it was Iris. When she reached the foot of Erebor, she felt the presence again and she hissed under her breath that this was becoming annoying. "Come out! Show yourself!" She shouted above the songs of birds. She grew tired of this little game that someone was pulling with her. Faenaur snorted, and Coruwen agreed with him mentally.

"Coruwen?" Freya's voice asked softly. The dragoness' voice was quiet and her amber eyes curious. "What are you shouting about?"

"There is someone following me!" Coruwen snarled sliding off of Faenaur's back. She tightened her hands into fists with her breath becoming a pant, and the pant became a muffled cough. She had recently taken her medicine meaning that she could not be bothered by that annoying cough. "You see all, Freya. Do you see anyone?"

Freya smiled slyly, "Nay, I do not. However," Freya nudged Coruwen's stomach a bit. "You are not being followed, Dear One."

"Freya, do not start assuming things! That is physically impossible!" Coruwen shouted, but internally she felt as if Freya was right. Maybe that was had been bothering her for all this time upon this day. It was never recorded that dwarves and elves had mated and carried a child before. Her slender hand rested upon her stomach, and she shut her eyes. Quietly, she whispered, "Freya, how do you know?"

"You have been acting not yourself as of late, little one. I know my little one well, and she does not worry like a mother hen, nor does she sleep for hours upon end." Freya said calmly. She nudged her again, but it barely made the elleth jump for it was motherly in a way. "You carry a life within you that has been hiding for two months now."

"I would have noticed that…"

"Upon normal grounds, yes," Freya took a deep breath, letting out smoke rings into the sky. "You have been pushing yourself to unknown boundaries, thus the child became weak and its presence faded. You have finally had the time to rest, thus your child is strong again." The dragoness swished her tail. "My dearest little one will be a mother in ten months' time. Best tell the king before he starts to ponder things…"

"I cannot tell Thorin now."

Freya hummed, "Best do it quickly, and time is of the essence."

Coruwen felt her body become weak as she pressed her hand tighter against her stomach. A smile broke out onto her face as she bowed her head with her gold hair falling in her eyes. Under her breath, she muttered, "I am a mother…"

A/N: I wanna send a big thank you to Teres and Angel of the Night Watchers for reviewing last chapter! The song Freya sang is of my own composition, and I hope you guys like it! End of chapter thoughts?

Until Next Time!

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