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Chapter Fourteen

The feast in honor of Thorin Oakenshield was fast approaching, throwing Ered Luin into a frenzied sense of expectation. It was clear to Posey that dwarves took their celebrations very seriously – and that was what this memorial was to be. No somber feast with speeches and mournful music. Oh no! This feast would be filled with drinking, singing, and the tales of Thorin's greatest adventures.

Presently, Posey sat at a great table in the feasting hall with many of the dwarven women who were working with Dis to finalize the particulars of the celebration. Among these women was Sifna, the wife of Gloin. Cautious at first, as they all were, Sifna had been difficult to speak with. Quite by accident, however, Posey had impressed the dwarf – during one of their earlier meetings, Posey had been nervous (as was typical) and she had picked up a small wire that had been left on the table by an earlier occupant. The thin wire was a silver color, and bent easily as Posey played with it absentmindedly.

Unaware of what her fingers were doing, Posey had begun a simple rose-stitch that she'd known since childhood, weaving a tiny rose out of the silver wire. Sifna, who like her husband was very preoccupied by all things glittery, had immediately asked Posey how much she would charge for the "rose brooch." She had also demanded one in gold, possibly with a gemstone in the center.

After bartering a very fair price, in Sifna's mind at least, the two had become quick friends. Sifna's influence seemed to help several of the other dwarven women to warm their temperament toward her as well – though Dwalin was convinced they simply wanted a discount on future purchases of her "wire weaving." Regardless of why they had begun to be kinder to her, Posey wasn't going to argue with it - Having more than just two people to speak with would be a fine change to life in Ered Luin,

"Several more carts of ale are coming from Bree, but the snow has slowed them down considerably," Dis said in a loud voice, commanding the ears of everyone present, "The kitchens are already in full preparation and by Sunday we should be ready to commence with the celebration."

"Who will lead the toast, my lady?" Miri, the merchant's wife with the overdone clothing, called out from the opposite end of the table, "I recommend Gormr for the honor."

"Of course she would, little schemer," Sifna said under her breath to those around her, causing several to chuckle loudly. In a louder voice, though, Sifna shouted, "Would not Dwalin wish for the honor? He was, after all, Thorin's closest shield-brother and he fought for our homeland bravely on the quest for Erebor." Many of the women agreed, looking to Posey with hesitant smiles on their bearded faces.

"I agree," Dis said authoritatively, "Dwalin should have the honor if he wishes it. Posey, will you speak with him?"

Not happy to be the center of attention, Posey squeaked out a brief "Of course," before Miri raised her objections.

"But Gormr is certainly to be Lord of Ered Luin come the spring. Should our future leader not have the right to stand in honor?"

"There has been no decision on that count, Miri!" Sifna said as she stood to her feet, anger clearly read on her face.

"What do you care, Sifna? You're leaving these mountains!" Miri stood now as well, several of those sitting near her nodding along. Posey recognized many merchant's wives at that end of the table – many faces that would be remaining in Ered Luin.

Voices broke out from all corners of the table, some of the women standing with fists raised, while others began to call out in favor of Gormr or Dwalin. Dis, clearly frustrated, slammed her huge fists heavily at the head of the table, "Silence!"

Still seated, Posey stared wide-eyed at the angry mob of women that still glared at each other, though their voices had quieted. "We did not gather here to debate lordship! We gathered here to honor my brother and my sons!" Dis' voice cracked slightly at the end, speaking to Posey of her suffering. Sighing quietly, Posey couldn't help but think that this was a bad omen of things to come.

"I thank ye for ye'r support, Talik. We'll honor Thorin's memory in the years to come." Dwalin clapped his hand on his new supporter's shoulder and the two dwarves bumped heads to seal their agreement. The past few days had seen a turn in Dwalin's fortune. Supporters had come to him in larger numbers, though one couldn't be certain if his quest for Lordship would be successful. Gormr had been relatively silent of late, making Dwalin rather suspicious of his intentions.

"That's one more," Vim said from beside him, a smile on his rough face. "We're getting there, slowly but surely."

"Aye," Dwalin replied, his eyes scanning the great hall below them. They stood just outside of the Lord's Hall – the place where Thorin's throne sat empty. From this vantage point, Dwalin could see clearly down into the depths of the city, his eyes resting on the large column of light coming from the doors of the feasting hall. His wife was there now – a thought that made him smile.

"Did ye know that Gormr left the city yesterday?"

Vim's question caught Dwalin off guard. "What do ye mean? Where would he go in this weather?"

"No one knows for sure. All that I could gather is that he isn't expected back for a week at least, maybe more."

"Back just in time for the celebration, eh?" This news didn't set well. Silent conniving followed by a random disappearance – Gormr was up to something and Dwalin needed to know what. "Who told ye this?"

"The guards at the main gate. Gormr thinks that Pin will side with him for lordship."

Pin, the head of the guard, was a close friend of Dwalin's – and, apparently, a good source of information. "Why would Gormr think that? Pin and I have never hid our friendship."

"Gormr promised him a new suit of armor and gold enough to retire from battle."

Dwalin growled in frustration. "Will that snake stop at nothing to gain supporters? Does he know nothing of loyalty? Of trust?"

"He's a Dourhand." Vim's voice had dropped in disgust – the Dourhands were known for their treachery. While Gormr had lived and worked within Ered Luin for decades, his bloodline was hard to overlook.

"We'll have to wait to see what happens when he returns," Dwalin said in resignation. "This maneuvering is getting on my nerves."

"At least ye've got a wife at home now to soothe them," the tone of Vim voice had turned humorous, "She seems like a feisty wee thing."

Chuckling, Dwalin nodded, "Aye, that she is. I'm starting to think she's more dwarf than hobbit."

"She's made quite the name for herself already. Those trinkets she makes are all the talk among the ladies." Dwalin couldn't help but smile. His wife's notoriety as an outsider had made her wire weaving all the more in demand. "My wife was just telling me yesterday that she think it's a shame that Posey's wed to you. She'll be with child soon and she'll likely have little time for a craft once she's got the duties of a mother."

Dwalin's smile got wider. He'd been working diligently with his wife on the begetting of a child. His wife, being young and healthy, shouldn't take long to conceive. In fact, if Dwalin had his way, they'd have quite a number of sons before long. The dwarves of Ered Luin needed a new hope once half their number left for Erebor – children were the perfect way to breathe new life into these halls.

The morning of the memorial dawned and many within Thorin's Halls were up with the sun. The feasting hall was teaming with dwarves, arranging tables, preparing the ale, and getting the settings ready for the feast. Around the city, great banners adorned with Thorin's crest hung, using cloths in the blues and greys that the fallen king had favored. Firebeards had come from their nearby settlement, and other dwarves from as far as Bree had come to join in celebrations.

Posey and Dwalin were still in their chambers, Posey putting the final touches on her green silk dress. With some trouble, Posey had found a dress maker that was willing to create a bodice in the hobbit style for her, leaving only the skirt for her work on. The bodice was made of deep green velvet and silk, with golden thread and a modest number of tiny emeralds throughout. The full skirt was made from the same green silk, reaching down just a slight bit longer than her normal dresses.

Dwalin had put far less thought into his appearance, donning a leather suit of armor that reminded Posey a great deal of the traveling clothes that he'd worn when they first met. It had a fur-lined chest plate and collar, with a pair strong leather and metal boots, with bits of iron-forged metal crisscrossing his chest and shoulders. Dwalin had managed to put a few braids into his beard though, something very unusual for him. All in all, Posey found him to be quite fetching like this – a feeling that she'd found hard to reign in.

Dwalin, she could tell, appreciated her look just as much. In fact, if Vim had not arrived to escort them to the feasting hall, they may have been late. Posey hoped that Vim missed her blush when he'd first arrived.

Trying to give the impression that she was fully in control of herself, Posey attempted at conversation. "Do you have your toast ready?"

"Aye, though I have no idea why ye're so anxious about it." Dwalin didn't care to hide that he was having trouble keeping his hands off of his wife, brushing his knuckles across her shoulders and putting pressure at the small of her back as often as possible. Vim's chuckles were accompanied by more of Posey's violent blushing.

"Would you stop that?" Posey whispered loudly as the trio reached the entrance of the feasting hall. Vim's wife, a brooding dwarf called Hilda, joined him.

Upon seeing the massive gathering of dwarves, Posey lost track of her blush and suddenly couldn't grasp onto Dwalin's arm tight enough. Her mind drifted back to loosing Dwalin at the main gate when they first arrived at Ered Luin. She was utterly determined to not get lost in the shuffle this time.

Dozens, if not more so, came to greet them. Vim and Dwalin stood proudly together, laughing and joking with dwarves that Posey assumed had pledged their support to Dwalin's lordship. Looking around them, Posey spotted Dis at the far end of the room, sitting at a dais that had been erected for those of high standing to sit at. Dwalin and Posey would be joining her there once the crowd around them dissipated.

Also seated upon the dais was Gormr Doursmith. Posey had never spoken directly to the dwarf, but she knew that he had often spoken of her to others. He had an open distaste for the fact that Dwalin had married outside of their race, and Posey couldn't help but feel nervous that she was likely going to be forced into speaking with him.

The slow process to the dais brought with it many more introductions to dwarves that Posey supposed were important, though their names would evade her later. Sifna had been among them, with her son Gimli. In her intricately braided hair, Sifna wore two of Posey's brooches.

Dwalin's booming voice brought comfort to Posey, his solid presence keeping her going through the throng of people. Dis stood as they approached, welcoming them and inviting them to sit beside her. To her left sat Dwalin. To her right, Gormr.

In the days following, Posey would be ashamed to admit that she did not listen to the toast that Dwalin had given, nor to the brief speech that Dis had offered to the gathering. Both were lost to her nerves, as she looked out into the hundreds of dwarven faces that stared back at her. If this was what being the wife of a lord entailed, Posey wasn't sure that she was up for it. Despite having nothing to say or do, she was frozen in fright. What if she got food stuck in her teeth? What if she spilt ale on her dress?

The food was rich and Posey couldn't manage to eat much more than a few bites before she felt her stomach clenching. This was going to be the longest night of her life, she was sure of it. Dwalin seemed in good spirits though, which may have been in part because Gormr had not addressed him even once.

As if sensing her thoughts on him, Gormr's voice broke through her contemplations. "That is an interesting gown you wear, Posey, wife of Dwalin." Looking toward the dwarf in question, Posey saw a smile on his face what did not quite reach his eyes.

"Oh," her voice stumbled, "It is in the style of my people."

"Truly? What an odd group your people must be. Is modesty not valued where you come from?"

Posey could hear Dis gasp from her position a few seats away. Dwalin's form was tense beside her and Posey knew that her ever-present blush was likely a blotchy shade of puce by now. "I think," her husband said in a growl, "that ye'd be better off keeping your mouth shut where my wife is concerned, Gormr."

"Now Dwalin," Gormr said in feigned pleasantness, "I'm only mentioning it because it is obviously lost to your wife that she's dressed in a manner that is insulting to many in her present company, including myself."

Tears began to well behind her eyes as Posey turned to her husband and placed a small hand on his forearm, "Dwalin, I'm not feeling well. I think the hall is too crowded and it might be best for me to return to our chambers."

"Ye'll stay here, taerin." Dwalin said gently, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to Gormr's with an iron-hard anger that Posey had never seen before.

"Clearly the Dourhands don't teach their young anything about manners." Gormr growled something back in khuzdul, though Posey couldn't quite make out what it was. Dwalin's reply rang out clear – in fact, he was so loud that it would have shocked Posey if the entire hall didn't hear it. "Ye'll not speak to my wife again, calass, or I'll cut ye'r tongue out."

"You offer me insult, Dwalin, son of Fundin!" Gormr was standing now, and Dwalin wasn't far behind. "You dare call me untrustworthy in front the entire city?"

"Aye! I do!"

Shocked gasps rang out from across the hall, while Posey sat, mortified between the arguing dwarves. Dis, she could see, was motioning toward one of the lower tables. Several dwarves stood and neared the dais, approaching slowly.

"Aye, my lady, call off your dog!" Gormr gestured to the dwarves that neared them, pointing toward Dwalin violently, "This kuldjargh will be the end of us all!"

"Now who offers insults?" Dwalin bellowed, "First ye offer grievous abuse to my wife, then ye call me a dog? Who is a kuldjargh, Gormr, if not yerself?"

Silently bracing for whatever would be yelled back, or possibly for the shouts to become fists, Posey was shocked to feel herself being hauled out of her chair by Dwalin, who drew her up against his side roughly.

Looking out into the crowd once more, Posey saw all of the bearded faces looking directly at Dwalin. "Loyalty!" he yelled, "Honor! A willing heart! I will ask no more than that! Nor did Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror!" One of his massive arms rose up to point toward Gormr, "Ye'll know naught of honor living under his rule! Naught of courage or loyalty!"

Translations:

Calass: Miscreant, Untrustworthy one.

Kuldjargh: Berserker, one who is uncontrollable in battle

Taerin: My love

A/N: I hope you liked it! Please review! :)