A/N Hi there! So, I've edited the last chapter a bit, thanks to some very valuable feedback from my first reviewer! For me, a piece of writing is never truly finished, as stories are always changing and evolving. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 2

Taking her whetstone in hand, Dis brought it across the blade, relishing in the sound of metal against stone. This was a daily ritual for her: grinding the axe against the scarred stone to restore its lethal edge. It was only made sweeter by the fact that she had found them all safely—well, all except, perhaps, one.

"I wonder why he wants them so badly," she said aloud to Nin, sitting across from her, still hard at work on her tapestry.

"What, dear?" she said distractedly.

"The elf king—"

"Thranduil," Nin corrected for the thousandth time.

"Thranduil, then. I wonder," Dis continued, "Why he wants the necklace so badly."

Nin sighed. Trying to avoid the inevitable argument that was to follow, she said, "I couldn't tell you."

With the discussion seemingly at an end, they both returned to their work. Silence settled back over the common room.

"Maybe it's jealousy."

Now that was unexpected. Unable to hide her own curiosity in her daughter's thoughts, Nin said, "Jealousy?"

Dis looked up at her mother, pleased at an opportunity to explain her theories.

"Perhaps he's just jealous of Grandfather," she began, "He does have the Arkenstone, after all. Maybe he wants the jewels in order to rival it. Or, it could be personal. It might be that those jewels remind him of…oh, what were those called? The elves always tell stories of them…but anyhow, I can see how anyone would want them. They're absolutely beautiful. But with how sorely the elf—er, Thranduil, sorry—wants, seems to need them…there has to be more to this than just their beauty, don't you think?"

"I try not to," Nin replied, "Thinking too much about politics is enough to make one's head ache."

"But don't you find it the least bit interesting? I mean, if I were Grandfather—"

"Here we go," Nin muttered to herself.

Dis' eyes snapped up to her mother.

"What do you mean by that, Mother?"

"Exactly that." Nin said, "Whenever you begin a sentence with 'if I were Grandfather,' you launch into a speech about how you should be involved in politics."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

With a patient sigh, Nin looked at her daughter and said, as she had so many times, "Your grandfather and your father are only trying to protect you."

"From what? Getting into an argument with some doddery old elf?"

"What your grandfather does, as well as your father and brothers, is much more dangerous than petty arguing, so much more. One misguided word can start a war, especially with Thranduil. That is why you and I may serve occasionally as private advisors, instead of having direct involvement."

"But I can hold my own!" Dis cried indignantly.

"Mahal knows you can, Dis," Nin said, not without affection. She knew as well as anyone else in the family or the kingdom that Dis' strong will often led her into heated discussions, without any concession on her part. "But I can tell you now," she continued, "There is no chance that your grandfather will give you a place in his court other than the princess, no matter how much you try to persuade him."

"But— "

"Don't argue with me about this," Nin said in a warning tone. But Dis would not be silent.

"But I want to do more than just get married off!" she exclaimed, "I want to be more than the little princess. I want to be remembered for something— "

"And you will be," Nin interjected impatiently, "by those who care about you. Your brothers, your father and grandfather, me…are we not enough for you?"

Dis opened her mouth, and closed it again. She had not considered that part of it.

Silence settled again, and Dis lowered her eyes, her heart sinking into her stomach.

Nin watched her daughter and realized that what she had said was not entirely true.

"Dis. I do believe that you will be remembered. By more than just us."

She stood and moved toward her daughter. Lifting Dis' face toward hers she said quietly, "You must be patient, my dear. Your time will come, but you must be patient until it does. Do you understand?"

Dis gave a small smile and said, "Yes, mother. And thank you."

"For what?"

"Believing in me."

Dis took her mother's hand and gave it a squeeze. Nin beamed at her, glad that she understood.

The door behind them opened, and Thrain, Thorin, and Frerin entered. Dis immediately turned her gaze back down to her lap, and Nin moved back to her seat as she greeted her husband.

"How were the negotiations, Thrain?"

"They weren't." Thrain said proudly, "Thranduil asked for the jewels, Thror shut the chest in his face."

Dis could feel Thrain's stern gaze burning into the back of her head, and knew what was coming.

"So. You've found the rest of them?

Here we go, Dis thought to herself, as she said aloud, "Yes, adad."

A tense beat of silence. Then:

"He sat on it."

Before she could stop herself, Dis released a chortle of laughter. The mental image of the elf suddenly jumping into the air was almost too funny not to laugh at, until she met her father's gaze and immediately swallowed back the rest of her giggles.

"You are lucky he wasn't injured!" Thrain shouted. "Keep better care of your weapons, or I shall have no other choice but to keep them for you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, adad."

"Good."

Thrain moved towards his chambers and shut the door behind him.

As soon as it closed, Thorin and Frerin began to laugh. Dis joined them as soon as she saw her mother hiding a snicker behind her hand.

"Did he really sit on it?"

"Right on it!" Thorin said jovially.

"His face was without price!" Frerin signed. He followed it with an impression, moving to sit on the couch, but jumping back up, face contorted exaggeratedly, yielding more good humor from his siblings.

"M'igyid kuthu fund suluna ini ma mahilkhib heletumunsu hû khulumbujbu,*" Nin admonished, with a wry smile on her face.

"We know, amad, we know," Frerin gesticulated, "It wasn't him getting hurt that was funny—it was his face!"

"And the noise he made—by Durin's beard!" Thorin explained further, "You'd have thought they'd sent some silly elf maid in his place!"

"And by your axe, Dis," Frerin interjected, "Nicely done!"

"It was lost—there wasn't any trying about it. But you're welcome, anyhow!" Dis replied.

A/N I know just how annoying exposition can be, but it is necessary, and I hope I've made it at least a little interesting! Again, thank you to my first reviewer for your insight! See you next chapter!

*Rejoice not when an elf falls, but don't rush to pick him up either.