Ch.7: Daughter of a First Mother

Bilbo's thoughts fluttered for a moment when the lovely dwarf woman squeezed his hand. He expected dwarf hands would be rough, but hers were very pleasant. He also expected dwarf faces to be equally gruff, bearded, and fierce. But she seemed to be none of those things. She was lovely, not gorgeous, probably not the fairest creature in Middle Earth by a long stretch, but pretty enough, and strong willed, and willing, even wanting to give love. He smiled, his ears turning warm and rosy with pride.

Her hand pulled away as abruptly as it came and she began to wander his parlor and leaf through his books and papers.

At least one dwarf had an appreciation for something other than the contents of his cupboards. He could see the two of them getting along famously.

And just as that thought crossed his mind a loud thumping reverberated down the hallway, and the dwarves grew suddenly silent.

Bilbo heard Gandalf croak out a, "He is here," before opening the door, presumably on another pushy dwarf.

Bilbo sighed, pulling himself from his armchair and tugging his suspenders with his thumbs. Like any good host, he must great all guests, however uninvited.

Eily continued to flip lazily through Bilbo's maps even as Thorin entered the hobbit hole, knowing that though her blood was technically senior to his that his was royal. So as Gandalf has previously cautioned her she waited for him to smooth out her existence with the King Under The Mountain.

If his men could not discern what was real or false about her, she knew better than to force herself into the conversation. Thorin would make his own judgement of her and the others would accept it, she imagined until he ruled on her validity that no dwarf would dare speak one way or the other.

So she respectfully kept to herself in the parlor eyeing maps. Mostly of places in the Shire she would likely never visit when a low snarl erupted from across the hall.

"That is unacceptable! Her presence will be a curse upon the quest!"

"Oh, I do not seem to remember this being your decision alone Thorin son of Thrain!"

"I do not believe a word of her story! It's absurd! And the fact that you can shows-"

"SHOWS WHAT?!"

She recognized that voice, it was Gandalf's dark, booming tone. He'd used it to get his way often on their journey, and to scare those who angered him.

She heard the squeal of chair legs and the pounding of frustrated feet cross the hall to her. Quickly she straightened herself to seem more experienced and useful as Thorin stormed into the room.

He said nothing, he simply glowered over her for a moment. Then he took a few steps closer. Then a few steps more, then another until his nose could have brushed her forehead.

She stood completely still, uncertain of whether to speak, move, or even breathe.

Then in one mysterious sweep he turned and strode from the room, leaving her baffled and maybe even ready to cry had her heart not been choking her in her throat from nervousness.

She swallowed hard and took a sip of wine to compose herself. She had genuinely believed he might slit her throat then and there; either because he thought her a liar or because she was the spawn of what many a dwarf would call a traitor.

So much for first impressions.

Thorin was affronted by the very notion that his reckoning of his ancestor's life could have been flawed, that a destined mate for him could have existed (let alone rejected him) was offensive. As one of the few in his company who had actually born close enough witness to the beauty of the Arkenstone, he knew that a life springing forth from it was impossible, but when he looked at her it felt… felt… familiar? Warm? Like… coming home?

Ridiculous.

He strode closer to her, examined her more thoroughly.

Her lack of a beard was somewhat unseemly, but the closer he got to her the more he could feel it. This feeling of comfort… of rightness…

Erebor.

By now he was close enough to her that the smell of her hair filled his nose.

But her hair did not smell to him simply of soap, wind, youth and flower pollen. He could smell the halls, the gold, the stone, the high North wind, the pine…

The ash.

His body quivered from an emotion or impulse he could not identify. He only knew it was not doubt. Something clung to her, some last bit of spirit not her own, and it recognized him, called to him just as the smell of her young skin called to him. It spoke of vows, power, riches.

Lust.

He swallowed hard and spun on his heel.

Whatever the wizard had planned for her, he did not like it.

Kili fidgeted in his seat, occasionally elbowing Fili just for the sake of moving. He was glad to be a part of this meeting with his kin, no matter how serious the conversation had turned, but he could not help but feel that Eily should be a part of it.

When Gandalf pulled out Thror's map of the mountain, he thoughtlessly chimed, "Shouldn't the lady Eily be here for this?"

"Pfft, she is no lady," Nori began, expecting to be immediately supported in this assessment by Thorin, who had seemed unsettled when he went to meet her.

Thorin growled low, "Her claim to Erebor is as rightful as any, and a great deal more than most of you," he continued, "Her blood is pure, forged by one of Mahal's first children. She goes with us to reclaim her families honor and fulfill her rightful purpose."

Everyone was silent at that, be it from Thorin's tone or the vagueness of his statement.

Bilbo wrinkled his nose slightly at how quickly Thorin began to speak for her, claiming she would go before asking her, especially since not ten minutes ago he was calling her a liar and a curse, but he kept his mouth shut.

At the sound of Thorin's declaration (for it was impossible not to hear him) Eily slowly entered the doorway to the dining room, which seemed to her so snug she had no conception of how she may find a seat even if there was another chair.

But despite all odds, and probably in no small part due to Thorin's sudden acceptance of her story, the dwarves suddenly seemed to warm up to her.

"Please take my seat Milady," offered Gloin, rather loudly.

Not wanting to rebuke even the smallest shred of kindness from them Eily gladly complied, squirming past the others into Gloin's chair between Nori and Balin.

Nori seemed uncomfortable for a moment, his beard not concealing his embarrassment, "I'm sorry child," he mumbled.

"I understand completely," she replied softly, "Sometimes I forget how implausible I seem. But I do want to help." She offered a weak smile, unaware of the toothy smile that beamed at her from across the table.

Fili rolled his eyes, nudging his brother back to reality. Kili had been simply mooning at her since she entered the room. Fili sighed at the discomfort, "I say let there be no more talk of what the lady Eily is or is not. If Gandalf says she's a daughter of the First Mothers then that is what she is."

Fili had said this more to put an end to all the fuss encircling the girl, but Kili, as usual, misinterpreted, "Indeed! And beard or no beard, she is a dwarf maiden and a fair one at that!"

"Oh, sweet on her already are yah?" Bofur chuckled, eliciting a wave of laughter at Kili's expense.

"What? No! Simply that disgraced face or no she's of the house of Durin and-"

"Well actually if she's the daughter of the only unwed First Mother, she's not related to any dwarf of any house," Dori interjected.

"I thought we were done with all the what she is and what she's not babble?" Dwalin snapped impatiently as the entire group began to break off into argument and conversation about what her lack of relation meant for their families, whether she really was disgraced at all or simply a line of beardless dwarf, how exciting it was that The Lonely Mountain had actually been enchanted all along, and all such chatter.

"ENOUGH!" Thorin snapped, not particularly fiercely but loudly enough that the company stopped to consider him for a moment.

Gandalf smirked behind his pipe smoke.

"Perhaps we should move on to the contracts," Balin offered.