"Is all of this really necessary?" Isadora hissed from her position to Caspian's right.

"We want to be as accommodating as possible," he muttered back.

In the few months it had taken to organise the meeting between the court and the dwarves, Caspian had grown a short beard. It took Isadora a great deal of strength to not burst out laughing anytime he addressed her because she thought he looked utterly ridiculous. However, according to Trumpkin, it was better than approaching these dwarves bare-faced.

To be bare-faced was, in dwarfish eyes, a trait of humanity.

Isadora, unfortunately, could not grow a beard. Instead, her hair had been pulled back and forth and braided in a manner that looked very beautiful and Dwarfish but was so tight it was giving her a slight headache. That coupled with one of her more Narnian dresses was the best she could do.

"They are your subjects; not foreign dignitaries," she reminded her cousin now. "We should be accommodating but don't bend over backwards to impress this Low King. I haven't seen you so eager to please since the revolution."

Caspian glanced at her and they shared a knowing look. Then, the trumpets sounded and they heard the distant thump of marching feet.

The party of dwarves finally passed through the gatehouse and marched forwards towards the waiting court. They were dressed in armour unlike anything the human Telmarines had ever seen; full plate armour in a range of browns, greys, blacks, that made them all look like little boulders. Helmets obscured their faces and all that could be seen was their eyes glittering behind the visors. Two carried strange standards; the golden lion of Narnia but wreathed in red flame upon a black background.

As they halted in neat formation in front of Caspian, Isadora found herself doubting her earlier words. If they had not borne the golden lion upon their banners, very little would have identified them as Narnians. It felt very much like when they had had envoys from the Tisroc of Calormen when she was a little girl. They were also so unlike the few dwarfs she had fought alongside with over the past months. It was clear that those were the exception and it was the true Dwarfish might who stood before them now.

The dwarf heading the group stepped forward and removed his helmet; revealing a tangle of black hair and a clever little face. His slate-grey eyes examined the Telmarines and Narnians carefully, his gaze lingering on Trumpkin next to Isadora in particular. Although he was yet to speak, his bearing spoke volumes. It was clear that he was Njálabrik, the Low King.

"Greetings, and a most warm welcome to the Dwarves of the Deep Chasm," Caspian said formally. He smiled down at his subjects.

Silence echoed around the courtyard, before the Low King turned to one of the dwarves standing slightly behind him.

"Ik Aslan, za Rhuz aa'ka fuek u chuzka," he muttered and then turned to Caspian with a wide, white smile.

"Your Majesty!" he said in a rumbling voice that spoke of mountain halls. "Thank you for welcoming the Sons of Earth."

Behind him, the armoured ranks of dwarves suddenly moved as one. With a crash of armour, they placed one foot forward and bowed in perfect unison.

Caspian stepped forward and held out his hand. Njálabrik gripped his elbow and the Narnian King and Low King shook. The tension in the courtyard broke, the dwarves moved apart and laughter and chatter started as the Sons of Earth began to mingle with the Narnians again.

"What did Njálabrik say?" Isadora said to Trumpkin out of the corner of her mouth. Although the court had moved forward to begin interacting with the dwarves, the two of them had stayed put on the steps; Trumpkin for some unknown reason and Isadora for an uncharacteristic attack of shyness.

Trumpkin grinned.

"Don't say anything to Caspian, but he said, "By Aslan, the King has hair like a woman,"" he sniggered. "I told him he should have grown a longer beard."

The mirth on his face quickly vanished and he scuttled off into the crowd. Isadora watched him go with slight bemusement and then turned to see Caspian approach with a dwarf in tow.

He was dressed in the same armour as the other dwarves but had removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face with a close-cropped black beard.

"This is my cousin, Lady Isadora Orellana-Scythley," Caspian said to him and then turned back to her with a smile. "Dor, may I introduce Lady Tórví Iceguard, sister to Njálabrik."

Isadora's smile waivered slightly and she turned back to Tórví.

"Hello," she said. Tórví nodded her head.

"I want you to take care of Tórví while the dwarves are here," Caspian continued. "Show her around the castle, make her feel welcome, keep her company."

With that, the King moved on again – leaving the two ladies staring each other up and down.

Isadora shifted from foot to foot. "I didn't realise female dwarves also had beards," she said.

Something hardened behind Tórví's eyes. "And I didn't realise Daughters of Eve looked like prepubescent children," she replied icily.

Isadora blinked.

"Apologies, that was slightly insensitive of me," she said.

"Yes, it was," Tórví said and walked off to join her brother instead, leaving Isadora by herself and feeling quite the idiot.


The dwarves were swiftly escorted into the castle and shown to their quarters. Njálabrik and Tórví were installed in adjoining rooms in the Western Tower which were usually given over to visiting ambassadors. As the sky darkened outside, they settled in.

Having divulged himself of his armour and redressed in a black and silver tabard, Njáll knocked on the door to his sister's chamber and let himself in.

Tórví too had changed into a forest green doublet that happened to be one of her favourites. She was seated in front of the vanity, replaiting her hair, as he entered. He picked an apple out of the fruit bowl on the sideboard and noted that she had taken the liberty of shutting the great heavy velvet drapes across the window.

"I see you don't appreciate the view," he said, taking a bite of the apple. His sister didn't move her gaze from her reflection, staring intently at her fingers moving through her hair.

"I don't like being reminded of how high up we are," she said shortly. "This is unnatural."

"Do you want me to ask us to be moved or are you merely throwing a strop?" Njáll asked, throwing himself into an armchair. Tórví didn't reply. So, the latter then, clearly.

"What do you think of this King then?" he asked.

"He's young," Tórví said. "We'll need to watch him closely but I can already tell he relies a lot on his advisors. That cousin of his is an idiot; I don't think she will be any sort of problem at all."

"Aslan's Mane, you are just a glittering pile of gold today, aren't you?" he said, making use of a common Dwarfish saying. "What's the matter? I need your eyes, Tórví. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't need you."

Tórví's hands fell away from her hair. She turned on her stool and looked at her brother with doleful eyes.

"He couldn't even look at me," she said. "He turned and ran before I could even get close."

Njáll sighed. While the Stonefists were one of the lesser Elder Families in the Chasm, Trumpkin had been a good match for Tórví. The engagement had taken a lot of time to organise but what made it worth it was to see how enamoured Trumpkin was with his betrothed. Njáll's parents had enjoyed a marriage as icy as their surname and he was thrilled to think that his younger sister had a chance at a much happier life.

When Trumpkin had up and left in the middle of the night with no explanation, the Iceguards had been left mortified and Tórví had been distraught. Njáll had comforted his sister at the time but that had been almost a year ago at this point. He had heard the rumours that Trumpkin had found his way to the new King's side so he had known that they would have bumped into each other now. However, he hadn't factored in Tórví's reaction to seeing her former betrothed. He could not afford to coddle his sister now, he needed her sharp eyes to help him gauge the feeling at court, but he knew he could not expect her to continue as if nothing had happened.

Luckily, he was saved by a knock at the door.

"Enter!" Tórví called and the door opened to reveal the faun who seemed to be acting as some sort of butler to the King. Hywel was his name, Njáll managed to remember.

"Forgive the intrusion, Lady Iceguard," Hywel said with a small bow. "I am seeking your brother and when he was not in his own room I correctly assumed he would be through here with you… And forgive me, sir, but I am not sure how to address you?"

"Sir will more than adequate," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"The King has requested a private meeting with you now before the ones with the Council tomorrow," Hywel said. "If you would follow me, please?"

"Just give me a minute to finish freshening up," Tórví said as Njáll stood.

The faun gave a gentile cough. "Unfortunately, His Majesty wishes to speak with the Low King alone tonight," he said apologetically. "Lady Iceguard, I must ask you to remain here."

"Sure," she said flatly and looked at her brother. "You will tell me everything he says?" she asked in Dwarfish.

"Of course," Njáll said before following the faun.

Hywel led him all through the castle down stairwells and through corridors until he reached a rather inconspicuous-looking door. He opened it and waved Njáll through with a smile.

The Low King could not help but think it was a rather peculiar place to meet King Caspian but, the second he stepped through the door, he realised his error.

"I thought you said this would be a private meeting with the King," he said to Hywel behind him.

"Oh, the King has no idea this meeting is happening," the faun said, crossing to join those who had been waiting for them in the room. "I usually do not condone lying but it was very necessary in this scenario. Apologies, sir."

Njáll noted the curt tone in that last use of sir. He adjusted his stance so it was slightly more domineering and looked around the room. He recognised some – the centaur general Glenstorm, Bulgy Bear, the insufferable mouse Reepicheep – but there were far more faces he did not know. He looked over his shoulder and saw a minotaur had stood in front of the door, blocking the only exit. Looking forward again, he cursed himself for leaving his dagger and axe in his room with his armour. Here he was, alone and defenceless in a room full of other Narnians and they did not look pleased to see him.

"In fact," Glenstorm said, "His Majesty is never to be made aware of this meeting at all. This is to discuss a Narnian matter and His Majesty is not yet truly a Narnian."

"What's this about?" Njáll snarled. "I came here as a representative of my people and I refuse to be summoned here with no explanation. Where is Asterius? Where is my cousin Nikabrik? Where is that teuchach Trumpkin?"

"Peace, there will be no need for that language here," a plump badger said. "Clearly the Chasm is now so far removed from Narnian society that they have not heard the news. Asterius and Nikabrik are both dead."

Njáll tried not to let that show on his face. Nikabrik had been head of the Iceguard family and so the responsibility had fallen to him to retrieve Trumpkin and bring him before Njáll to be judged by the Low King for breaking his prenuptial contract. Since his cousin was hot-headed even for a Dwarf, he had charged off himself to capture his errant friend instead of arranging a bounty hunter like anyone else would have done. No word had come from him since he had left but he was such a seasoned warrior that the Iceguards had not feared for his safety.

"Why am I here?" he spat out.

"Twice His Majesty called for the Dwarfs of the Deep Chasm to join his side," Reepicheep said. "Twice they have ignored that call. You are the elected leader of the Dwarfs so you will answer to us. Why did you not rally to war?"

Njáll scoffed. "You mean the Revolution? That was over in what, a week? If we had marshalled and marched all the way to Beruna it would have been over by the time we got there! As for that business in the Ettinsmoors… the Ettins have always caused trouble! There was no need to go and beat them into submission; you should have sent word to the Harfangers and let them sort it out!"

"We needed the Dwarfish army. You alone could have bolstered our ranks by a third," Glenstorm said in his quiet voice.

"You won, didn't you?" he replied icily. "Besides, I know of at least one Dwarf who stood with you so stop acting like we left you completely alone."

"Aye, there were some dwarves," the badger said. "Renegades and other outcasts driven out by the Elder Families! I suppose they are to blame for why you have not joined us sooner?"

Njáll glared at the Talking Beast. "What is your name, Badger?" he asked.

"Trufflehunter," the badger answered. "I was a friend of Nikabrik's and he always spoke very highly of you. It is a shame that you aren't living up to that impression he gave me."

Njáll too recognised the name. He should have known that the badger was Trufflehunter. Before his father's death, Nikabrik had forever gone adventuring outside the Chasm as far reaching as the ruins of Cair Paravel on the coast. Njáll and Tórví had been nowhere near as brave as their cousin, preferring instead the quiet calm of the Dwarfish city, but had always listened eagerly to Nikabrik's stories and the other Narnians he had befriended.

"I suppose, Trufflehunter, that you have never met the Elder Families," Njáll said now. "I may be the Low King but they are the ones who truly control the Deep Chasm. If I was to call the dwarves to arms without their permission they would lock away their family's weapons and armour and prevent them from leaving!"

"It is high time that the Elder Families were reminded that they are Narnians," Trufflehunter said. "They could keep your people safe and separate when we were in hiding from the Telmarines but the world has changed. We expect the Deep Chasm to open its doors once more and the Elder Families will have to submit to Caspian! Or will they be so arrogant as to reject Aslan's chosen sovereign?"

The Low King was silent. "We are Narnians," he agreed. "Now, would I be permitted to leave? I am weary from a long day's travel."

The others exchanged looks and then Glenstorm nodded. The minotaur in front of the door stepped aside and Njáll moved to leave. On the threshold, he turned back.

"If anyone wishes to discuss this matter further, you know where to find me," he said with chilling politeness.

The door crashed behind him.

"It seems he is more of a politician than his predecessor," Reepicheep noted to his friends. "It will be intriguing to see how he moves over the next few days."

"Remember that he may not be our friend," Trufflehunter cautioned. "He is little more than the Elder Families' puppet and if they have already decided to stand against Caspian then we may as well say goodbye to the dwarves – forever."


I am back!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and an introduction to my Dwarves! :) What do you think of Njáll and Tórví so far? Friends or foes? :D

Thank you to TortoisetheStoryteller, Wildhorses1492, and narnia and beareject fan 1 for your kind words last chapter! I will see you next time, for Njáll has chosen now to visit the court for a very urgent matter indeed...