Disclaimer: I don't own anything - Tolkien gets all the credit.
A/N: I have written this chapter about ten times… I don't know what it is about it, but I just couldn't get my thoughts typed out in a way that I liked – hopefully you enjoy it! I hope to have the next chapter up much quick than this one! :)
Chapter Thirteen
His wife was sleeping, her body curled into his and her hands in tiny fists, bent up just below her chin. The past few days, waking to have her next to him, fully his wife – Dwalin couldn't imagine a better way to begin each morning. The idea that they would have every morning for the rest of their lives together almost made him giddy… not that he'd admit that to anyone. Ever.
Posey had warmed to the duties of a wife with a sense of joy and fulfillment that made Dwalin certain that every Hobbit in the Shire was a fool for not having claimed her when they had the chance. She cooked for him, mended his clothes, brought him ale, and spent her nights beside him. She'd become essential to him, in a way he'd not quite expected. While he had cared for her greatly before, she now seemed more like air to him – that he wouldn't be able to breathe without her.
Dressing as quietly as possible Dwalin left Posey to her dreams as he prepared for another hectic and tiresome day. The first week in Ered Luin has been a rough introduction to dwarven lordship. For every ally Dwalin was able to find, three cowards would arise asking for bribery to pledge their support to him. Unwilling to sell his pride and buy supporters, Dwalin had watched as Gormr bought his allies with promises of large halls, access to trade routes, jewels, and gold. How had Thorin dealt with this mess?
In the early morning silence, Dwalin could almost be angry at his fallen king. The life he'd planned to lead in Erebor would have been far simpler. Balin had always been the one people followed – the one people looked to for guidance. Not accustomed to self-doubt, the new role as a would-be lord was making Dwalin feel like a fool. He didn't know how to do any of this. His talent was killing – defending. Decades spent on the battlefield gave him no preparation for courtly life.
To make it all the worse, he had a wife that needed shelter and safety – what would happen to Posey if he failed? Where would they go? To Erebor in shame? To live with her people? Surely not.
"Failure isn't an option." He muttered, squaring his shoulders and swore off the thoughts.
Posey's head was sure to ache later – attempting to learn the details of dwarven culture was much more complicated than she'd expected… Apparently dwarves don't tell other folk a lot of the details of their history, and she was still firmly planted in the 'other folk' category. Any information she would gather was likely to be generic. "So, when someone talks about the 'seven kingdoms,' they're talking about seven clans?"
Dis had, reluctantly, joined Posey for a picnic outside of the main gate. While frigidly cold, Posey still preferred the open air to the cramped feeling of the cave-city. "Aye, the seven families of the dwarves."
The dwarven princess had been an essential part of Posey's adjustment to life in Ered Luin after that first day – without her, Posey wasn't sure she'd have even ventured out of the chambers she shared with Dwalin. "And the Longbeards are the direct descendants of Durin the Deathless."
"Aye." Dis was patient, a virtue that Posey was sure she'd exhaust with her constant questions.
"And the Blue Mountains are also the ancestral home to the Broadbeams and Firebeards?"
"In the cities of Nogrod and Belegost, before they were washed out to sea. Thorin's Halls is said to be the remnants of one of the great cities of old, though no one is sure which."
"Where are the Broadbeams and Firebeards now?"
After taking a large bite of bread, Dis replied, "Still here, though in lesser numbers than existed in the first age. The Firebeards have a stronghold only a week's travel to the north. I'm surprised you don't know of them. They trade with your folk, I think."
"Oh, surely they do! The Tooks have welcomed dwarves secretly into their halls on occasion, if rumor is true."
"Are the Tooks a great family of your people?"
"My cousins, actually. Old Took is one of the wealthiest in the Shire." Sighing heavily, Posey looked up into the clouded winter sky. Thinking about the Shire and the family that she'd probably not see for quite a while made her feel so very lost. The hesitant welcome from her husband's people didn't help matters. Where her husband seemed so very happy to have her here, the rest of the city… Well, she probably shouldn't dwell on things she could not change. "We should probably go back inside before the weather turns."
Dis nodded, slowly rising to her feet. "This winter snow will be good for us in the spring."
The pair packed up the reminder of their modest lunch and began the trek back into the main hall. Everyone they passed offered gestures of respect to Dis, while very few acknowledged Posey's presence at all. Holding her head high, Posey tried her best to not let her emotions show. Dis and Dwalin both had assured her that, with time, she'd make a place for herself here.
"Who is that over there?" Posey asked in a whisper as she and Dis walked through one of the side passageways several moments later.
Dis had introduced her to many of the high ranking women within the city during the week since her arrival. Many were still very distrustful of her as an outsider, regardless of who her husband was or that fact that Dis had taken Posey under her wing. "That is Miri, she is married to Dortil," Dis said back, her voice clearly relaying a distaste for the dwarf in question.
"Isn't Dortil one of the craftsmen that wants Gormr to take the lordship?" Posey glanced toward Miri in as subtle a manner as she could, noting the large gemstones that lined the dwarf's dress. Posey wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to the overdone manner that the dwarven people adorned themselves.
"Aye, Dortil is greedy and Gormr is willing to pay whatever sum for support."
"That doesn't bode well for Dwalin, does it?"
"Let's not worry about that now." Dis pulled Posey further along, leading them toward the final staircase of their journey. "I wanted to talk with you about the memorial for my brother." Over the past few days, Posey had done what she could to assist her new friend in planning a feast in the honor of Thorin, Fili and Kili. Dis had shown no outward signs of sadness during the preparations, but Posey knew that there was certainly pain hidden deep within.
"During the feast," Dis said in a low tone, "you will be expected to stand with Dwalin in a place of honor." Posey nodded. Dwalin had told her something similar the day before, in one of their brief moments alone. "I will give you a gown to wear. None of your things are formal enough."
"Thank you for the thought, but I think I can gather some fabric and have a dress ready in a few days. I saw a lovely bolt of green silk when I was walking through the marketplace that might work."
Dis scoffed, shaking her head. "What you need to learn, Posey, is that dwarves dress to show their status. If you're to be the wife of a lord, you'll need to look the part. It's bad enough that you don't wear shoes."
Laughing at the indignant way that Dis was staring at her large Hobbit feet, Posey decided it might be best to concede on the point of the dress. "If the dress is that important, I'll wear whatever you feel appropriate. But, I simply cannot wear shoes. It would feel unnatural."
"Unnatural is walking about in bare feet." With one final stern look toward Posey's lower limbs, Dis led the way further into the city.
"Dwalin, I tell ye, ye must learn to negotiate." Vim, one of Dwalin's first supporters said with determination. A warrior and shield-brother that had fought beside Dwalin and Thorin on many occasions, Vim was more familiar with the customs of dwarven social niceties. "These dwarves know nothing of honor. They are staying in Ered Luin because they have money here. If ye can't promise them power or gold, they will go to Gormr."
"It's a disgrace! Thorin was never ordered around by those fat sacks of skin!"
The pair sat in the central chamber of the home that Dwalin shared with his wife. He could hear her moving about in the kitchen, occasionally catching sight of her blonde head as she walked past the archway that connected the rooms.
"A disgrace, perhaps, but ye'd be a fool to think that Thorin and your brother didn't use money when needed to barter a deal. How do ye think they convinced Gloin to travel with ye to Erebor in the first place?"
Chuckling at the memory of the many times Gloin spoke of money during their great quest, Dwalin supposed that Vim might have a point – even if he didn't agree with it. Luckily, Dwalin had coin to spare - They may as well make use of it.
"We'll have to be careful about it," Dwalin began, "I don't want every beggar in Ered Luin coming to me for gold. Talk to the others. Decide who can be approached and who will remain silent." Vim nodded to him and made his way out, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Shaking his head at the thought of buying loyalty with gold, Dwalin walked toward sounds and smells of dinner. Posey stood at the table, putting down a steaming plate of potatoes. Sausages, biscuits, and some vegetables he couldn't name were already waiting. Dwalin had learned quickly that his wife wanted as much praise for her meals as possible, so he blurted out a quick "Smells good," before sitting to devour as much food as possible.
"Thank you," Posey replied distractedly as she brought two mugs of ale to the table. Looking at her face, Dwalin could tell that something was amiss.
Normally, Posey would nearly knock him over in eagerness to embrace him once they were alone – a new development in their marriage that Dwalin was quite content with. "What's the matter?"
Her eyes darted quickly to his before she returned to looking down at her food, "Nothing."
"Ye know as well as I that that's not true."
"It is."
"No, it's not."
"Dwalin, please, can we just eat?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Posey." At the sound of her given name, something that Dwalin rarely called her, his wife looked back to him with a frown.
"Fine." Resigned and blushing slightly, Posey stood in a rush and walked out of the room. Not sure of whether or not to follow her, Dwalin sat in his chair, staring at the spot that his wife had just occupied.
Muttering under his breath about the confusing nature of females, Dwalin returned to eating his supper, not willing to forego a meal if Posey wasn't willing to talk. It was several minutes later that he could hear Posey returning to the kitchen – Looking up, Dwalin couldn't help but laugh. Not just a small bark of laughter… No, it was a massive explosion of sound that resulted in the potatoes he'd been eating to fly from his mouth.
Standing before him, Posey was wearing an extremely old fashioned dwarven gown, covered top to bottom in gemstones of topaz and ruby. The golden-colored dress was lined in reds and yellows, the hem reaching the floor and hiding Posey's feet. It was ill-suited for Posey's shape and was far too long and bulky for her. The humorous part, however, was the look on Posey's face. She looked utterly disgusted.
"Where did ye get that dress?" Dwalin asked through his laughter, which only seemed to make Posey look more pained.
"Dis is insisting that I wear this to Thorin's memorial."
Dwalin knew he shouldn't still be laughing, but he couldn't find the control to stop. "Why?"
"She said that this will honor you. She said I should dress like a dwarven lady."
This ended his laughter abruptly. "Ye're wearing that for me?"
Letting out a quick breath of air, Posey put her hands to her hips. "Obviously. As if I'd pick this out myself!"
In a rather unexpected and primal way, Dwalin was touched that his wife would choose to do this to honor him – She was definitely uncomfortable and unhappy in the loathsome garment, but she was ready to wear it if it would please him.
He smiled. "Or azgal, ye don't need to wear that dress to honor me. Ye do that just fine wearing ye'r normal dresses."
Posey looked at the gown and lifted the fabric of the skirt up slightly, rubbing the material between her fingers. "But I should try to fit in more, don't you think? The ladies here always stare at my feet and I've heard several of them say that my dresses are too simple."
The atmosphere of the room altered quite suddenly. Were dwarves insulting his wife behind his back? "Who stares at ye'r feet?"
"Just the ladies in the market… Dis says that my legs have been the topic of conversation since the moment I arrived. Apparently it's considered indecent to show your ankles here."
Dwalin loved that he could always look at Posey's legs – he'd be damned if a few ill-mannered prudes ruined that for him. "Ye'll wear ye'r own clothes, taerin. If you need a different dress for the memorial, have one made that ye like."
Considering the discussion over, Dwalin returned to his meal. He couldn't, however, stop one last chuckle from escaping.
Translations:
Or azgal: My treasure.
Taerin: My love