Disclaimer: I don't own anything - Tolkien gets all the credit.
A/N: As I'm sure many of you have, I've already seen Desolation of Smaug twice… good lordy lord! Such a great movie! I am totally in love with Dwalin even more – and I have a new fascination with Bard – Would any of you read a Bard-centric fic (once this one is finished, of course)? I loved Luke Evans' interpretation – even if the hair was horrid. ;) … and Thorin? Richard Armitage is certainly a fine piece of man-meat! (Disclaimer: I fully believe in the objectification of male actors and I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry)
Chapter Eleven
It was obvious, above most other things, that sleeping in a cramped tent and long hours in a saddle were not Posey's idea of fun. His little wife had managed well during the first few weeks, but now that the journey to Ered Luin neared a month… "Wouldn't it be lovely for us to stop at an inn? We could all bathe and have supper before a proper hearth!" Conversations always seemed to start like this now. Posey's anxious face looking down on him for her place on their pony, begging – near pleading – for a respite from their travels.
"Taerin, I've told ye dozens of times. We're not stopping at any inns or going into any towns. Speed and secrecy are our preferred methods of travel."
Posey's response would have made him laugh it weren't for his worry that she'd have hurt feelings. Her lower lip stuck out in a frown and she jerked her head forward. She'd be silent for a few moments, he knew, before the silence would drive her to speak about something of little consequence - the weather, the pony, the neck pain she'd been having for the past week.
"You know, I do believe that this journey has made me into a fine rider." Looking up at her again, Dwalin saw she was stroking the pony's neck. "Misty quite likes me now."
Dwalin chuckled. "She'd like ye quite a bit more if you stopped callin' her Misty."
"But that's her name! What should I call her, if not by her name?"
"Her name isn't Misty. It's Minty."
"Oh." Posey leaned forward in her saddle and began apologizing to the pony using a voice that one might expect a mother to use on a small child. Dwalin continued to chuckle as he looked out toward the ever growing mountains on the horizon. They would reach Ered Luin in a week if they kept pace. The tension he'd been feeling during the journey from Hobbiton had only grown more intense – Balin and Dain expected that nearly half, if not more, of the Dwarves in Thorin's Halls would abandon the Blue Mountains in favor of Erebor. That would leave mostly families with younglings, the elders, and merchants that couldn't afford to abandon their wealth.
Dwalin's strength would encourage some of the warriors to remain, he hoped. He had trained most of them in recent years, so he was depending on their loyalty to sway their decisions. The lure of Erebor would be great, regardless.
"Dwalin, do dwarven homes have windows?"
The question drew him out of his reverie. "What?"
"Do dwarven homes have windows? I've never seen a dwarven hall, but I certainly hope that our home has natural light. We hobbits live under the ground, yes, but we love the sun."
"Access to the outside at more than entry points is considered a strategic weakness." Posey was frowning, considering the words.
"So, no windows?"
"No windows."
"Well, that's a shame." Posey was still stroking the pony's neck, looking up into the winter sky with a small smile. "I'll have to take walks, then." Her voice was strained, but it was good to see that she was trying… Dwalin smiled.
Access to the mountain, Posey learned, was rather civilized. For some reason, she'd imagined a tiny dirt path with trees and wild animals. Instead, a wide stone street cut a nearly straight line from the trade road, heading up the mountain at a slight incline. Warriors of the mountain greeted Dwalin as a brother, and without so much as a "Who is that Hobbit?," they were guided up the mountain.
Dwalin had drifted further ahead in the company, walking with the leaders as the entrance loomed above them. There were carved stone pillars lining a large door, which Posey thought to be made of marble. Intricate designs were all over the outer wall in shapes of dwarven warriors and geometric patterns. Posey was in awe. The entrance alone was the single most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. What beauty might still be ahead? Surely the inside would be even more amazing?
Looking back to the front group, Posey searched the increasing sea of dwarves to find her husband. After a few moments, she began in panic. Where is he? Cheering had broken out for the warriors of the Iron Hills, come to return the dwarves of Erebor to their sacred homeland. The group was still moving ever forward, Posey not able to stop amid the shuffle of bodies.
"Dwalin?" Posey called out, her voice eaten quickly amongst the noise from the far louder dwarven crowd. Turning in her saddle, Posey searched behind her, just in case she'd passed him without seeing. Dwalin was tall for a dwarf – and his tattooed head should be easy to locate… but still nothing.
A dark shadow enveloped Posey's vision as her pony slipped inside the entrance to Thorin's Halls, forcing her to turn back around. Ahead of her lay a vast cavern, lined above, below, to the left, and to the right with pathways, stone buildings, and dwarves. The carvings that she'd seen on the outside walls continued within. Torches were lit on vast recesses along the walls, giving the huge space an eerie yellow glow. The hum of dwarven life was all around her.
Posey was breathing harshly, the wondrous hall only making her more uneasy. Where is my husband?
"Welcome stranger," a deep voice said from below her, "to Ered Luin, home of the Sigin-Tarâg, the Longbeards." Glancing to the source of the nearby voice, Posey saw a dwarf with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and oddly familiar face. "Dwalin has asked me to guide you to your new home."
"Where is he?" Posey asked while glancing around again at the mass of bodies surrounding her.
"He is in meeting with the uzbads – the lords of Ered Luin." The dwarf motioned for Posey to dismount from Minty, though Posey was hesitant to do so. "You can trust me. I know Dwalin well and he wrote to me about your veltel. I will not harm you."
"Veltel? Who are you?"
"Veltel means…" the dwarf paused, as if searching for the right words, "Courtship, in the common tongue." The dwarf smiled then, "As to who I am, I can say truly that I am a friend. Your brother did my family a great service, which bonds us together. I am Dis, sister of Thorin, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror. Mother of Fili. Mother of Kili."
They're all dead. Posey winced.
Wait - this dwarf is a woman? Glancing again over the face of Dis, Posey supposed that it explained the familiarity of her features. Her eyes, almost identical to her dead brothers, held the same strength. The beard, deep voice, and male garb however, made looking at the dwarven female a bit discomforting.
"Oh," Posey began in a stilted voice, "You look very much like your brother." Considering the only option available to her, Posey dismounted the pony with very little grace. Landing with a heavy thud on her feet, Posey looked up into the taller dwarf's face. Dis was smiling, looking at the braid that signified Posey's marriage.
"Come, this way. I have made Balin's chambers ready for your arrival. Dwalin thinks they will be better suited for you than his own."
Faern. Home. Dwalin felt a huge weight lift from him as he entered the only hall he'd ever called home. He knew now that Erebor had been but a dream – Ered Luin would always hold his heart. The sight of the great hall, filled with life, helped to erase the cold memories of the deserted pathways within the Lonely Mountain.
With Dis offering to take care of Posey upon their arrival, Dwalin was free to meet with the council of uzbads. His brief reunion with the sister of his dead King had been bittersweet, but he was glad to see that her strength did not buckle under the weight of her grief.
Walking to the main council chambers of the uzbads, Dwalin attempted to mentally guard himself for what was about to take place. These lords would mostly leave for Erebor in the spring, but at the moment they held the majority of the power within Thorin's Halls… now that the line of Durin was broken.
Many friends were to be found in the council chamber – old warriors whom Dwalin had fought many battles with – but also several of whom Dwalin considered Calass – the untrustworthy. Chief among those whom Dwalin did not trust was Gormr Doursmith.
Gormr was a powerful merchant – once a warrior, Gormr had often challenged Dwalin's advice to Thorin, aiming to displace him as a trusted confidant of the King. He sought power with a selfish ambition that resulted in the ruin of many less wealthy dwarven tradesmen. Dwalin's scowl would never leave his face in the presence of such a foul and loathsome being. What's more, Gormr was not of Durin's Folk – he was a Dourhand, a rival clan of miscreant dwarves who lived in tiny halls in the wastes to the south.
"Now that emissaries from Erebor have come, it is time to plan." Gormr began, speaking out with a powerful voice. "Who will leave, and who will stay?"
"By decree of Dain Ironfoot, King under the Mountain, all of Durin's Folk are welcome back to Erebor!" This came from Morik, a dwarf of the Iron Hills. "Our company of warriors will serve as protection for any willing to travel the distance."
Many voices broke out in cheer, and dwarf after dwarf called out that they would travel back to the great mountain. Dwalin remained silent, listening to the murmurs of those debating to stay. Gormr has silent as well, his hand resting on the great table, eyes scanning the room with a look that Dwalin would call malice.
Their eyes met, and Dwalin saw a smirk appear on Gormr's face. "My friends," he called out, "We are remiss in acknowledging the return of the great Dwalin, son of Fundin!" Many in the room turned to Dwalin with another cheer, raising fists to honor him. "Tell us, Master Dwalin, do you intend to stay?"
"Aye, I'm staying. And you, Gormr Doursmith, son of the Dourhands, are you leaving for Erebor?" Gormr looked ready to reply when Dwalin continued, "But then you aren't of Durin's Folk, so I suppose you weren't invited."
Silence filled the council chamber. It was not often mentioned that Gormr was of a rival clan, but whenever it was, Gormr felt the insult acutely – they all knew this.
"You are so kind as to remind me of that fact, Master Dwalin." Gormr's voice was low, etched with contempt, "But then, you are an expert at outsiders, aren't you?"
Dwalin frowned. Expert of outsiders?
Grinning, Gormr continued. "Tell me, do all in this room know of your wife?"
The others began speaking again – a few even cheered out in congratulations at the news of Dwalin's marriage. "Tell them, Dwalin. Tell them which clan she hails from."
The room was silent again, many of the lords looking to Dwalin in expectation. Dwalin growled low, glaring violently at the one he now would consider an enemy. "She hails from no clan." A gasp broke out on Dwalin's right, frowns of confusion could be seen to his left.
"She hails from no clan," Gormr called out loudly, "because she is not even a dwarf!"
Posey was excited and nervous and worried all at the same time. Dis had led them through several large hallways, passing a small marketplace and many other more narrow pathways which branched out deeper into the mountain. Although Posey knew she wouldn't be able to retrace the path yet, she desired to explore all of these walkways in time.
"I would never have expected such a large city!" Posey called to Dis as they traveled down a wide stairway.
"The city is old. It existed before Thorin reclaimed it for our people nearly a hundred years ago." Dis smiled sadly and motioned for Posey to follow her further. Posey wanted to offer condolences for Thorin's death, but she wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not… She would ask Dwalin later.
The pair stopped at a door down one of the long pathways, this one with very few dwarves in sight. Glancing around, Posey saw very few doors as well. "Here are Balin's chambers. I've moved Dwalin's belongings inside." Opening the door, Posey saw a sparsely furnished entryway, with five archways leading into different chambers within.
Posey began to walk toward one of the archways, only to stop when she heard Dis clear her throat behind her. "I wish that I could stay to welcome you further, but plans are underway for a memorial for my brother. I hope you will attend."
Posey nodded, "Thank you very much for your help. I would certainly have gotten lost trying to find this place." Dis gave Posey a quick smile and closed the door as she left.
To say that Posey was a bit overwhelmed was an understatement. Alone in what was to become her home, Posey nervously began to explore. Through the archway on the far left, Posey saw a small room with nothing but shelves- the walls were completed covered in bottles of mysterious colored substances, small boxes, and stacks of paper covered in what Posey assumed was the dwarven language.
The second archway led to a kitchen, though Posey thought it an odd kitchen. The room was massive, with high ceilings and a large collection of counters and cabinets, as well as a large hearth. Posey thought she saw a sink, but she couldn't find a pump to draw the water. There was a large table with high-backed chairs near to the pantry, which was located on the far end of the room.
Moving thru a small archway on the right side of the room, Posey saw that the kitchen was connected to a sitting room with a number of large cushioned chairs, all constructed in a squared, boxed sort of way. Each chair was adorned with runes and patterns that Posey would easily identify as dwarven in origin. Drapery hung on all of the stone walls, mostly blue and grey, with images of mountains, jewels, and even one of a dragon.
Walking through the larger entrance of the room, back into the entry way, Posey found a bathroom with a tub and very fancy looking toilet. Thank goodness for that. The final hallway led to a hall that branched out to several bedchambers, each with lush furnishings and large tapestries hung on the walls.
All in all, Posey thought this home to be smaller than Bag End, but not by much. Had one dwarf truly lived here? With at least five bedchambers, this place could easily accommodate a decent family… which brought a random thought into Posey's head – one she'd silently considered for the last several days of the journey to Ered Luin. Now that she and Dwalin had a home to live in, would they 'become' man and wife?
Posey let out a nervous giggle. "Oh dear."
A/N: Not much Dwalin/Posey interaction in this one, but I promise – you guys want to stick around for the next chapter! It's the one many of you have been asking me about, if you get my drift ;)