Six Months Later:
When it had been confirmed that something was amiss, Thorin had sent for him and advised him to bring anyone else that was interested in what he knew he had to do.
Though his most trusted advisor, Balin, had protested, Thorin insisted that what he needed to have found out, had to be done discreetly so as not to cause any unnecessary friction.
They were, after all, honored guests in their adopted home, Ered Luin.
If the reigning steward, a fine young dwarf named Staric, got word that there was any activity that he found could risk his lordship, Thorin knew it would mean another exile for the dwarves of Erebor.
He had come not long after Thorin had sent him word, and entered the dining room of the large home Thorin shared with his family, with a proud flourish and a warm smile.
From where Thorin sat, Balin stood behind him, and looked at the three guests gravely.
"Your majesty!" Bul announced, before bowing and his companions followed suit, "I'm glad to see you are in good health!"
Thorin smiled softly and urged his company to rise as he did from his own seat.
"Thank you," Thorin offered, coming around the table and looking over the three males with calm curiosity, "I am quite well. This must be…Boheeka and…?"
The other dwarf, Boheeka, extended his arm to the much younger dwarf that resembled him greatly. "My eldest son," He explained, "A promising Feyd operative. His name is Bofur."
Thorin offered a soft smile. "I understand," He said as he placed his hands behind his back, "That you have more than just him in your household?"
Boheeka smiled and nodded. "Ah, yes," He confirmed, "Another boy and a girl; Bombur and Nola."
Thorin chuckled and gestured for the three of them to follow him. Just before exiting the dining hall, he held up his hand to Balin who, reluctantly, obeyed the silent order to remain behind.
"Have you any children, Bul?" Thorin asked as the three of them journeyed down a corridor aided by only torch light.
"No," Bul said, "For I have not really ever felt the need to take a wife. Not with things being as they are."
Thorin nodded as he mulled this over and continued to walk with the three of them in silence.
"How is your cousin? The one whom was injured at Moria?" Thorin asked as the three of them ascended some stone steps that led them through a door and out into a sun lit garden.
"Eh, fine my Lord," Bul offered gently, "He's made stupendous progress. But unfortunately, he is still unable to speak any other language but Khuzdul. If not that, Boheeka and Bofur have taken it upon themselves to teach him some signs."
Thorin turned and looked at Boheeka whom offered only the faintest of smiles while the young dwarf Bofur, eyed him curiously.
"I thought of you, given what Bul has told me, as only a toy maker," He remarked, "Obviously you are much more! Who would have thought you were a teacher as well?"
Boheeka laughed and shrugged. "I am," He explained, "What I need to be, given the occasion."
When they had come to sit inside a grand gazebo, Thorin decided to confess his reason for calling them.
"I need a favor which, if I am correct, only you can be entrusted with."
Bul pulled a pipe from inside his tunic and waited for Thorin to continue while Boheeka seemed to become uncomfortable.
Bul lit his pipe and offered a smile as he inhaled his first puff of smoke. "O'course!" He offered, "There's only the small matter of…compensation for our aide. And also a wee bit more of information on the matter would help."
"Such as," Boheeka added without letting Thorin speak, "If you've a clear idea on who might be a threat, where they are, and what exactly it is you need us to do."
Thorin studied Boheeka and took into deep thought all his questions before saying: "I have…an inclination, into whom might be a threat," He confessed, and after seeing the interested stares of his guests, said: "He a diplomat from the Iron Hills apparently. I find it quite odd he seems to only come to speak to Staric and not I. Especially since Dain and I have been, unfortunately, at odds ever since the Moria battle."
Bul chuckled and inhaled from pipe as he thought this over while Boheeka's eye's widened and he scratched at his long beard nervously.
"A diplomat?" Bul inquired, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his mouth, "From the Iron Hills? So you think, with Dain and yer self still at odds, that there is something about to happen to you and your personal standing?"
"How can Ye be certain?" Boheeka asked, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Other envoys have come to only speak with Staric and not you and you've never had a problem with that until now."
"I know about it, Pa!" Bofur explained, looking from his father to Thorin, "It's been said fer a while now that after the Orc wars in Moria were done and over with, tha' people, even Dain, been lookin' to see if they can exploit our losses fer their own gain."
"That-people-HAVE-been-looking," Boheeka corrected, and lightly punched his son in his arm, "You knew about this, yet said nothing?"
Bul, his eyes suddenly narrow and burning into Bofur, gnawed the tip of his pipe slowly and waited for Bofur to answer.
"W-well, it's just gossip around the pond ye know," Bofur explained, scratching at the beginnings of a meager beard, "'sides, people wonder if Thorin can ever get back the power he once had."
Bul moaned and shook his; "Ye would do well to teach that boy of yours to not speak so bluntly," He said with a sigh, "Especially in present company."
Bofur's cheeks reddened and he looked desperately at his father who bowed his head toward Thorin.
"Forgive him," Boheeka offered, "My son can be tactless at times when he shouldn't be."
Thorin waved his hand and gave a smirk; "I know the fears of my people," He explained, "Their fears are my own and given what has been reported to me by Balin, I cannot help but wonder if some wish to asses my weaknesses here. Gossip or not, the arrival of the diplomat troubles me greatly especially since Dain was displeased that his aide in the war with the Orcs was not more…graciously honored."
Bul mewled and puffed on his pipe again; "Has he, this diplomat, made a request for an audience?" He asked, and Thorin shook his head.
"Only with the Steward thus far," Thorin breathed softly; looking over his shoulder to be sure no one heard, "Regardless of what Boheeka said earlier, Dain has alway sent his diplomats to me in the pat if only to put on a pretense of remaing patient and on friendly terms. He's already been here a week."
"Ye think the Steward might…uh…do ye suspect the steward to be involved in any said attempt to take whatever power you have?" Asked Bofur meekly, trying to ignore the flustered expression of Bul.
"Yes," Thorin sighed, "I've never had any animosity toward that fellow but…the wealth of the Blue mountains has begun to pick up ever since we arrived here and also I am still in good standing with the other dwarf kingdoms in Middle Earth."
Boheeka hummed and shook his head. "Too risky," He explained, ignoring Thorin's disappointed stare; the King also noticed the obvious relief in Bofur's eyes as he nodded in agreement with his father's conclusion.
"How so?" Bul mused, looking quite amazed and waiting for his kinsman to explain further.
"The steward and a diplomat from the Iron Hills," Boheeka pointed out, "There are and will be guards around them, which will obviously outnumber us. Let's not forget also, if it should arise that you"-Boheeka nodded at Thorin-"had anything to do with…whatever it is you want us to do, it could diminish your standing with not only the Iron Hills but the rest of the dwarven kingdoms that still thrive and quite honestly, you've lost much already."
Thorin thought this over before offering Boheeka a soft, confident smile, and said: "I have lost much already, yes that's true. But it could also be just what I need.
As you have said, and as you know, I am without a kingdom and in exile. So my enemies, even my allies it seems, think I can be easily manipulated or worse, stripped completely of who I am and all that I was born to. However if it is found that I am in fact being threatened and am able to meet those challenges with success…" He trailed off; finishing the sentence with a wave of his large hand.
Bul chuckled and finished his pipe, setting it aside; He was exhilarated at the king's insistence and finally nudged his kinsman with his elbow.
"We accept!" He chuckled, paying no mind to the worried and flustered glances of his kinsmen, "If only to serve the King! Give us about...oh, a week to prepare if Ye please."