Chapter Six

As they travelled through the Blue Mountains, Rori began remembering a lot of things that she had forgotten until now. As they got closer and closer to the settlement, Thorin's Halls in the north of the mountain range, more and more memories started coming back.

Most of all, she had forgotten how very much she enjoyed growing up here, mostly thanks to her grandfather.

As they reached the settlement, word quickly spread that the King had returned and people began to line the streets, welcoming him home. The town was a shadow of it's former glory with most residents having returned to the Lonely Mountain once it had been reclaimed, but the dwarves who stayed behind kept it exceptionally neat and tidy.

Thim, the leader of the remaining dwarves, came out to greet them, bowing to Thorin who stopped his pony and dismounted.

"My king, we are honoured by your presence, how may we be of service?"

He was speaking Westron, assuming Rori to be a hobbit.

"I have come to speak with a man called Ris, an elder of this settlement."

"Ris is well known," Thim assured him. "Come, I will take you to him. Your old rooms are also vacant, I will have them readied for you."

"Thank you."

The others of their party had dismounted as well, Rori followed Thorin while the merchants melded into the crowd, eager to tell tales of their journey back with the king and his unusual bride.

Ris's home was small, not the home that Rori remembered from her childhood but when he answered the door to Thim's knock, she understood why. Ris was not just old, he was ancient now, his spine bent at the top so he was constantly hunched over and his reading glasses were so thick that it seemed as though his eyes took up half his face.

"Well?" Ris asked when no one spoke.

"Our king has returned to speak with you," Thim told him.

Ris looked Thorin up and down but before he could speak, his attention was caught my a glimpse of blonde hair behind him. He peered around Thorin, who stepped aside to give him a better view.

"No," Ris said, stepping closer to Rori. "No, no it can't be!" It wasn't so much that he didn't want to see her, more that he couldn't let himself believe that she was finally here. "Rori?"

"It's me, Grandad," she said, stepping forward and gently embracing him.

Ris showed that there was still life in the old boy yet, as he hugged her back so tightly that her feet left the floor.

"Oh, I've missed you so much," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"I've missed you too," she said. "I thought about you every day."

"And I you, darling girl. Oh, my stars!"

Thorin could see the puzzled look that Thim was giving him upon realising that Rori was a dwarf, not a hobbit but Thorin shook his head, 'not now'.

"Oh my, how rude of me!" Ris said as he finally released Rori. "You'll be parched and hungry after your journey. Come in, come in, please."

He ushered the three of them into his home and closed the door on the small crowd that was watching events with interest.

He set about making them refreshments and refused all offers of help. Old and frail he may be but he was master of this house and could still provide for it's guests. When finally everyone had a drink, he sat down at the table with them.

"So, I don't suppose you came all this way just to see your dotty old grandfather," he said without any malice. "What can I do for you?"

"We've come to borrow a book, actually," Rori smiled.

"You have no idea how much I hoped that you had kept your love of books," Ris began laughing. "Oh, what a present you have given me."

They chatted easily for a while, Ris seeming completely unfazed by having the king in his sitting room.

"And what of your mother?" he finally asked Rori, almost dreading the answer.

"She's well," Rori said, a dark cloud finally dampening her happiness.

"And your father?" he said. "I suppose he is responsible for that?" he pointed at her chin.

"To begin with, yes, but I've been continuing it so that I could pass as a hobbit while I travelled."

"Eh," he took hold of her chin and pulled her face closer so that he could better examine her. "Suits you," he finally proclaimed, releasing her and sitting back.

Rori laughed in relief. She knew her grandfather had been an odd character but even she had feared how he might react to such a thing.

"Let's let these two catch up," Thorin said to Thim, getting to his feet. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ris, I am in your debt."

"You're welcome, my boy."

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Ris turned a shrewd eye on his granddaughter.

"That young man is besotted with you, if I'm not very much mistaken." he said.

Thorin was hardly young anymore, but Rori simply nodded and smiled. "He is."

"And you?"

"I love him," she confirmed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Who said there was a problem?" she asked.

His look asked if she thought he was a fool.

"People in love usually get married," he said simply. He got up and made some more tea, in case she would find it easier to talk if he wasn't looking at her. "So why haven't you? It's not like you haven't had the time to get to know each other on the journey."

Rori's happiness faded once again and she sighed. She wondered how he even knew that they hadn't married.

"I'm just so confused," she confessed. "I do love him and I feel like I know that I'll never love anyone else the way I love him but... I don't know."

Ris returned to the table with a pot of tea and poured them both a fresh mug.

"We dwarves don't write down much about ourselves," he said. "Oh, we'll record our battles and our victories but day to day life? Nothing!"

"Grandpa-"

"Hush, child! Now, where was I? Oh yes. There's something called moirai. It's the term used for when you meet your soulmate and fall hopelessly and helplessly in love."

Rori had heard the word but she had believed it simply meant 'love'.

"It doesn't happen for everyone," Ris cautioned, "but those it does happen for are truly blessed. It's hard to be separated from your other half for any significant period and the connection between you only strengthens with time."

"You make it sound like a fairytale," she said.

"I suppose in some ways it is," he said. "But I'm trying to help you understand why Dwarf marriages last for a lifetime."

"That isn't always a good thing," Rori argued, thinking of her parents.

"Do you know, there is no law that prevents a couple from separating?" he said. "It's just that so few dwarves want to, even when times get tough." He sipped his tea and sighed as he put his cup down, "Then there are dwarves who marry without moirai. Not many do it, most dwarves who don't meet their soulmate remain single, but some young ones mistake lust for love and rush into things... like your mother."

Rori looked shocked.

"It was never true love, sweetheart, for a dwarf who is in love could never be cruel to his beloved. He was captivated by your mother's beauty and, at least when he was younger, Cori knew how to be charming when he wanted to be. I warned her against the match but she was infatuated. Have you ever wondered why you don't have any siblings?"

"It can be hard," she sounded uncomfortable. "Dwarf women can only conceive once every ten years or so."

"True, but they also need to be in love or they won't become fertile. Your mother soon realised that the man she'd fallen in love with wasn't real, hence they couldn't have any more children." He let out another sad sigh. "When she realised that things weren't right, I think her pride stopped her from leaving. We offered time and again to take you and your mother in but she wouldn't hear of it. When he finally took you away... I should have tried harder."

Rori reached out and put her hand over his as he became tearful.

"It wasn't her pride," Rori said. "I remember many times that he would threaten to hurt me if she left him; he would swear that he would find her where ever she went and that she would never see me again. I think he knew that she would probably return to you and sometimes he would threaten to hurt you and grandma too. She stayed to protect us all, not to protect her pride."

Ris smiled through his tears and pulled a handkerchief out to wipe his eyes.

"Oh, look at me, silly old man getting all emotional over things that happened decades ago."

"You aren't a silly old man," she assured him. "I've been trying to get her to leave for years too, but all she ever says is that dwarf marriages are for life. I had no idea that she didn't have to stay with him."

"Your mother was always very kind but she wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. Maybe she really believes what she says, or maybe he has finally beaten her spirit down, either way, she has endured a loveless marriage but she is the exception, not the rule. Only you can say if this man is your moirai but if he is, you will know it."

"How?" she asked.

"Because when you are with him, you will feel like you've come home, no matter where you are. You will want to do what makes him happy even if you don't like it, because his pain is your pain; and vice versa, I might add."

"But if he really is the one, he's nearly a hundred years older than I am, we'll be lucky to have fifty years together."

"Every day will be a blessing," he assured her. "Your grandma was fifty years older than me but things like that cease to matter. Although I miss her terribly, I am thankful for the time that we did have."

"When did she die?" Rori asked. Her grandfather had been her favourite but she had been very fond of her grandmother too.

"Sixty six years ago," he said. "It might be painful without her but try as I might, I can't regret the time we had together." He looked around the room, as though he could still see her moving through it.

"Anyway, I don't think you'll have to worry too much about that," he said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "I take it you are here for the prophecy?"

"How did you know?"

"There's a reason I showed you that book when you were young, because I thought it spoke about you." He got up from the table and went to the book shelves that lined one wall of the small room. "The others are boxed up in the attic," he said. "I only kept the important ones out."

Rori smiled, for there were easily a thousand books on those shelves alone. It truly put her former collection to shame.

"Ah, here it is," he said, pulling an old leather bound book from the shelf and bringing it back to the table. "This belongs to you now, as do the others."

"What?"

"These books have been passed down through the generations, starting with my great great grandmother. Sometimes the bookish gene skips a generation but it resurfaces eventually, and I could see that it had with you. I find reading quite difficult these days so it is time that they went to someone who can truly enjoy them."

"I can't take your books," she argued.

"You can and you will!" he assured her. "I'm two hundred and sixty eight, I will not be around for much longer and if you don't accept them as a gift now, they will come to you upon my death anyway."

Rori didn't know what to say. Indeed he was old by dwarf standards, but she liked the thought of him dying even less than the thought of taking his books from him.

"Don't talk like that."

"I have to, Rori, to deny the truth would be foolish and I am nobody's fool."

She had no idea how she could move so many books back to Erebor but she would try if that was what he wanted.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not as virile as I once was and all this excitement is making me tired."

"Of course," she leaned over the table and kissed his cheek. "Will you eat with us later?"

"Of course, child. Now leave an old man in peace for an hour or two and go find that man of yours."

She picked up the book and left.

As she wandered the streets she found that she didn't care that some people were staring at her. She had remembered what her grandfather used to tell her when she was young, and complained about being teased or picked on because of her light hair or her bookish nature.

"Rori, my dear, you are not different, you are unique! Revel in it, enjoy your individuality. You have risen above the herd and for that, some will always seek to pull you down but that speaks badly of them, not you. Those who truly matter to you will see your rare qualities as a gift and seek to nurture, not destroy them."

She had managed the teasing a lot better when her grandfather had been around, and now she found some of that old confidence returning.

She remembered where the king's chamber was from when she was a child and went there there now, to find Thorin and Thim deep in conversation.

Thim was telling Thorin about how life in the Blue Mountains was fairing and he listened with interest. Thim seemed like a good leader and his heart was in looking after the village and protecting it's people.

Thorin smiled at Rori as she came in but she was happy to let them finish their conversation. She asked a dwarf who was standing in the entrance if she could be taken to Thorin's rooms. The dwarf checked with Thorin (who obviously agreed) before showing her to Thorin's chambers.

She settled on the bed and opened the book. It was hand written and had no date, but some of the pages were so faded that she guessed it must be hundreds of years old. It was written mostly in primitive quendian, an ancient form of Elvish, which Rori wasn't fluent in but she could read enough to understand the meaning of most of the passages. She carefully browsed each page until she found the prophecy she wanted, about the dwarf king who was given second life.

The prophecy began by explaining that the Orcrist, Thorin's sword, was infused with elvish magic and that the Arkenstone was older than all mortal lifeforms and although its magic was harder to harness, it was more powerful than the Orcrist. The stone was found by the sword maker during the first age.

After receiving a vision, the sword had been forged with the stone in mind and it could be fitted into the hilt of the sword in order to harness it's power. The vision also directed the elf who forged the sword to travel to the Erebor and place the stone deep inside the mountain, to be found millennia later by the Dwarves.

It went on to say that the mountain of Erebor would face many dangers during the third age but the greatest of these would require a selfless leader who would forgo his place in heaven, for the chance to save his people. The Arkenstone would preserve his flesh in order that he could return to a mortal life.

Rori paused and her thoughts turned to Thorin as she realised that he hadn't been brought back to life by the sword and stone; rather he had given up his place in paradise and returned to live a second life in Middle Earth, so that he might protect his people. She had a new found respect for him; she wasn't at all certain that she could have left heaven to return to the harsh realities of mortal life.

She smiled to herself and turned back to the book.

At the turn of the third millennium of the third age, Sauron would seek the Arkenstone and the means to control it, the Orcrist, sending one of his followers...

At this point, the writing grew so faint that it would need careful examination and probably a magnifying glass to be sure of what what was written there. The text carried over onto the next page, which was legible.

...Dwarf with knowledge of the next life would be able to harness the power of the stone and only an anuzuh, a scholar, would be able to advise the king who had chosen a second life, that he could weaken the maia using the very sword and stone which it desired.

Of course she could be wrong. As I said, some of the writing though legible was very faded, and her ancient elvish needed some serious brushing up before she could translate the prophecy with any degree of confidence.

She re-read the paragraph which said when the attack would come, just to be certain that she had her timings right.

It was now 2942 in the third age so if she had read the prophecy correctly, they had perhaps 40 to 60 years before this danger came (prophecies were never particularly accurate on times and you had to allow a large margin for error). That should give her enough time to be certain. Well, as certain as you could ever be when dealing with prophecies.

III

That evening the town threw an impromptu celebration to celebrate the kings visit. This isn't as outlandish as you might think at first, for dwarves will use any excuse for a party.

The main hall was lined with tables, casks of ale were produced from somewhere and placed around the hall, fires were built that sows could be roasted over and loaves of bread were continually dropped off at the hall, many still warm from the oven.

Thorin's personal suite of rooms didn't take much preparation since before he had left to reclaim Erebor, he had ensured that everything was protected and covered in dust sheets. Nevertheless the rooms had been cleaned and scrubbed in preparation for him.

As Thorin made his way through the halls, it brought back a lot of memories for him. He had been happy here and under his rule, the dwarves thrived but still, his enjoyment of his kingdom had always been tarnished by the knowledge that he and his people weren't here by choice.

He regretted that now. Not the retaking of Erebor but the fact that he hadn't taken the time to enjoy what he had here. Those who had remained here seemed happy and he hoped that under Thim's rule, they could thrive once again.

He entered his chambers to find Rory dozing on the bed, a book open before her. He smiled as he approached her and gently lifted a strand of her blond hair off her face, placing a kiss on her newly exposed cheek.

She roused and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi," she said.

"Been working hard?" he asked.

Rori smiled at his teasing. "I must be getting old."

"If you are old, I must be ancient!"

"Not ancient. Antique maybe," she said, sitting up. "Or perhaps seasoned is a better word."

"Seasoned, am I?" he asked rhetorically as he closed the book and put it aside. "I'll show you seasoned!"

He climbed on to the bed and kissed her. Privacy had been a rare commodity on the last leg of their journey and he intended to make up for that now. His was sorely disappointed when Rori pulled away from a second kiss but he could tell from her expression that she had something serious on her mind. He rolled off and lay on his side next to her, his head resting on his hand.

Rori mimicked his position, though she seemed to be having trouble meeting his eye.

"I had a long chat with my grandfather this afternoon," she began.

"Oh?" he asked because her pause was becoming uncomfortable.

Rori took a deep breath and finally looked into his eyes.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Ready for what?" Thorin frowned, not grasping her meaning.

"To be your wife."

Thorin sighed. "I want you, Rori, really I do, but not like this."

"Like what?" she sounded shocked.

"Like a timid mouse giving in to my demands!" He got off his bed and began to pace.

"Thorin?" she got to her knees on the bed so that she could better talk to him.

"No, Rori, I gave you space and time, I haven't put any pressure on you, so for you to come here, hardly able to meet my eye and make me feel like the bad guy? I won't stand for it!"

"I didn't mean for-"

"If your grandfather has pressured you into this then that's his problem, not mine and I refuse to-"

"Will you shut up!" she finally yelled. "I'm sorry if I am nervous but I can't help it! If you must know, my grandfather helped me to see that we wouldn't be like my parents, he didn't put any pressure on me at all! I said that because it's what I want and if I do have some residual nervousness left, well I can't help it. I may love you but this is still a big step for me!" She paused and took some deep breaths. "So do you want to marry me or not?"

She could have asked more graciously but with her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, to Thorin she had never looked more beautiful.

"I do," he smiled, his anger long gone. "Is this what you want?"

"It is!" she still sounded angry which made Thorin's smile widen.

Thorin stepped up to the bed and put one hand either side of her face.

"Návaín, isimunme," he said tenderly, holding her gaze.

Her fiery glare softened and she smiled slightly.

"Khuloh..." she paused after she said his name and for one awful moment Thorin thought that she wouldn't go through with it. Then her smile widened. "Isimunme,"

Thorin's smile became a grin and he pulled her from the bed as he held her tightly.

"Oh, my love. I began to fear that this day would never come."

Rori was grinning too and held him just as tightly. Now that's she had said the words, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had been the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have-"

"Hush," he said, placing her back on the floor and looking down into her eyes. "What's past is past, now we must look to the future."

"Speaking of, Grandfather found the book."

"Not tonight," he said, kissing her quickly. "Tonight we celebrate. There is time enough tomorrow for reality to intrude."

Rori smiled. "I saw they were setting up for a party, when does it start?"

"Not for hours and hours," he said, sweeping Rori off her feet and into his arms.

"I take it you had something in mind to pass the time until then?" she asked as he laid her down on the bed.

"I had a few ideas."

III

The feast that evening was an even more riotous affair than usual, once the towns people discovered that their king had taken a wife.

Rory was the subject of many whispers and pointed fingers that evening but she was too happy to even notice, let alone care.

Her grandfather came with two of her uncles, one of their wives and four cousins. They shared the top table with Thorin and Rori.

She and Thorin danced, drank, ate, sang and laughed until by the end of the evening, it was all Rori could do to kiss her grandfather goodbye and stagger to bed with Thorin. As much as Thorin might have liked to ravage Rori again, he just wasn't up to it and so he pulled her to him, content just to sleep as long as she was at his side.

Thankfully neither of them had a hangover the next morning, their high spirits having had more to do with the events of the previous day than the amount of alcohol imbibed.

Breakfast was brought to their room and as they sat down to eat, Thorin was surprised to realise that Rori was clean shaven. She was among her own kind here and had reverted to wearing her dwarf clothing, since it was much more comfortable and familiar than the hobbit costume she had been wearing. He had simply assumed that she would let her beard grow, even if she would have to remove it again before the journey home. He smiled at her but didn't comment in case he made her self conscious.

While they ate, Rori explained what she had learned from the prophecy, although she was very careful to let him know how poor her ancient elvish was and that she needed more time to properly examine the text in case she had made any mistakes.

Thorin focused on the fact that the prophecy said that he had chosen to return to life. Ever since he had woken up in that chamber, he had been at a loss to explain what had happened or why and he did not like that feeling. Although he couldn't remember having made the choice, the idea that he'd had some control over his return made it seem less magical and mystifying and more acceptable.

"Although," he said to Rori. "Can one claim any ownership of a decision that they do not remember making?"

"I think so," she smiled. "Even normally, memories fade but we are still left living with the consequences of our choices, good or bad, whether we remember making those choices or not."

"Wise words," he said.

Rori told him that her Grandfather had given all his books too her and for a while they discussed the logistics of getting his collection back to Erebor. When the family had moved into the Blue Mountains, Rei had once told her that he had given a few books to everyone making the journey. He was well respected and well liked, so no one saw the harm in adding a book or two to their possessions.

This time there was no mass move and the books would be much harder to transport. They discussed whether to move them en masse with horses and wagons, which could lead to the loss of all the books should the party be attacked on route, or they could send a few bags or boxes at a time which would take longest to reach Erebor, possibly up to a year or even two before the collection was complete, and even if some books were lost in transit, the majority would hopefully be safe.

"Perhaps if I just chose the important ones, I could leave the rest," Rori mused.

"You would hardly make a good scholar with few books," Thorin pointed out, remembering the reference to 'his scholar' in the prophecy.

Rori smiled weakly, disliking being the cause any disruption.

"Why don't we go over to your grandfather's now and you can start sorting them. Once you know exactly what is there, it will be easier to decide how to handle the transfer."

"That will take days!" she said sheepishly.

"Did you think that as soon as we had the prophecy, I would want to turn tail and go home? We travelled for weeks to get here, I am enjoying the rest and comfort of a warm bed and regular meals as much as anything." he smiled. "Besides, Thrim has a lot of ideas for the community which I am interested in hearing. I may have left Thorin's Halls but it is still my domain, and I want to make sure it thrives, even though it is no longer our capital city."

Rori smiled, feeling better about the delay now that she knew that he wanted to stay for a while.

After breakfast they went to Ris's small home and knocked on the door. When no answer came after repeated knockings and a long wait, Rori opened the latch and let herself in. Dwarves do not usually lock any door, except perhaps the chest or room which houses their gold. Ris had little gold and so he had no door locks.

"Grandfather?" Rori called as they went in. "Grandpa? Are you here?"

The fire in the main room had died out and so they went through one of the two doors which lead off that room. Ris's bedroom was the first door they opened and they saw Ris lying in bed, though his colouring was far too light to be healthy.

"Grandpa?" Rori asked, her voice high pitched and hesitant.

Thorin ventured closer to the bed, one arm tucking Rori tightly into his side, for he feared the worst. He reached out and touched one hand to Ris's forehead, which was cold to the touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, which was all Rori needed to hear. She threw her arms around him and Thorin held her tightly as she cried.