How had he lost control of the situation? 'twas what Ríkin longed to know. It had seemed a simple enough matter the night before. Get some sleep, then visit Erebor's youngest prince and convince him to decorate Erebor. Easy.
But instead of a quiet, early visit with only his Pepper beside him, his blabbing younger brother had told their dam of Pepper's return whilst he'd been away. And so it was that Ríkin found himself stomping down the street with quite the entourage. His lassie, aye, she was by his side for he was not yet ready to let her out of his immediate vicinity. But also brothers, dam and sister. His pride smarted ere they left the village to know his apology to the prince would be witnessed by the entirety of his family but for his sire. 'twas made worse when Tova insisted they collect the brownies' other host-families before setting course to the royal quarters at all. They'd need the extra hands, right enough, but he'd have preferred to fetch them after he admitted the error of his ways to the prince.
"Tell me again why it is my sister needs to join us," he grumbled to his mother. Pepper tugged upon his beard – he assumed he was being chided, but claimed the hand and kissed her palm anyway. His dam, however, turned to him with a familiar, calculating look that sent chills down his spine.
Mahal. Eikin and Thekkin stopped in their tracks, their faces like as not as pale as his own. Their mouths formed the words that would tender their excuses, he read the intent upon their faces. Before they could voice them, their sister noticed their absence.
"Is something amiss?" Tíra asked, noticing they were suddenly two short.
Ríkin tugged his lassie to stand before him as a shield as his brothers blurted, "'tis naught," and "Nothing," in unison, their eyes wide as their dam lifted one brow at them. His Pepper, he thought sourly, needn't be so all-fired amused. 'twas the truth, she laughed so hard, she clutched his arm to remain upon her feet, her laughter felt for all of its silence. Ríkin pinched her for that, earning a light slap upon his chest in return.
They continued upon their way. As Tíra's gaze roamed from brother to brother, each avoided her eyes. She turned to their dam with lifted brows, and Tova offered a genuine smile. No trace of that look remained to be found upon their amad's face.
'twas eerie, that look, and had Tíra seen it, she would have fled in terror. Well did they all remember the fiasco involving Thekkin and a certain dark-haired dwarrowmaid with a horrid giggle that could peel the paint from the wall. It had been a relief for them all when the maid had set her cap upon a shy, Iron Hills warrior instead, thereby sparing Thekkin. 'twas then that the children of Dalkin had learned the frightening truth: their dam turned into a rampaging auroch at the faintest hint grandchildren might be on the horizon. They'd learned not to betray interest in the opposite gender, not unless they wished to see that auroch unleashed again.
For Ríkin, this side of his sweet mother had posed no difficulty. He'd been fixated upon his Pepper before Tova set foot within Erebor. But for his siblings, he could only sympathize. Who could his mother intend for Tíra? His mind reviewed the dwarves he knew from among the brownies' host-families. Then a suspicion, alarming indeed. Aulë's lifted hammer. She'd not be so daft as to set her daughter's cap upon the prince. Would she?
Aye, he thought. The horror of the situation stole over him. Why, Thorin would be justified in booting the entire family from the mountain once he got a taste of Tova at her match-making best.
Was it too late to simply throw his lassie over his shoulder, return to their home, and barricade the twain of them inside until 'twas over?
*I say we run for it,* Eikin signed when their dam's head was turned in the other direction.
*Do ye think we stand a chance?* Thekkin returned.
A glance between the three brothers. Nay, not really.
OoOoOo
Kíli eyed his brother as they finished their breakfast, his amusement growing. Fíli was hiding something from him. He had been for months now. Kíli had suspected as much before, but this week, the suspicion solidified into certainty. Kíli recognized the signs. Struggling to smother a grin, he belched his appreciation of the meal, grin safely flashing at Fíli's disgruntled expression.
"What?" Kíli demanded, batting innocent eyes at him.
His brother grumbled about manners beneath his breath.
"Are we striving to emulate the elves now?" he asked, thoroughly enjoying himself.
No answer, but his brother shifted in his seat and scowled.
Yes, Fíli was hiding something from him. Did his brother think this time would be any different from the dozen or so prior attempts in their past? Kíli mentally clucked his tongue and shook his head. Fíli had never succeeded in hiding anything from him. Not for long. And he wouldn't this time, either, he decided with relish.
Kíli tossed back another gulp of ale. "Who is she?" he asked, a shot in the dark. A shot that scored a hit, he realized with a laugh as his brother tensed.
Pale eyes ordered Kíli not to venture down that road any farther. Confirmation? "I don't know what you mean," Fíli said, refilling his own mug from the pitcher on the table.
Who could it be? Kíli considered the matter. Was the maid from one of the three groups to emigrate to Erebor from the Iron Hills? Or the Ered Luin party? Can't be Ered Luin, he decided. He and Fíli had grown up there. His brother would not have been able to conceal a romance with one of those lasses. So. The Iron Hills, then.
A knock on the door interrupted his ruminations. He debated ignoring it. It was not Thorin at the door – that knock, both brothers would recognize in an instant. Anyone else could wait. This was too interesting.
Fíli's hand tightened about his mug. "Do you intend to ignore your visitor?"
"Maybe," Kíli said, smirking.
Fíli rolled his eyes. "Very mature."
Perhaps not. With an exaggerated sigh, Kíli climbed to his feet. "If you insist."
OoOoOo
Mahal spare me. Kíli scented a secret, and Fíli wanted to groan into his hand. He'd like nothing more than to confide about his clove-scented brownie, but he did not want to risk Thorin putting a halt to the nightly assignations. Kíli was more than just his sibling. He was his best friend. But Fíli knew better than anyone that if his brother had a subtle bone in his body, it would take a team of experts and weeks of hard labor to locate it.
And truthfully, Fíli was not ready to share his brownie. The time he had with her was limited enough already. These many months, he'd learned her silences. Fíli knew when she was amused or when she was curious. He could discern her emotions through the simple contact of shoulder brushing shoulder, yet frustration had of late claimed him. He'd not begun to plumb the depths of her mind, and he wished the freedom to speak with her.
The fact was, Fíli didn't want his brother interrupting. The relationship felt fragile in Fíli's hands, and precious. He knew his brother too well. If Kíli found out about his brownie, he would feel compelled to join them if only to tease Fíli mercilessly.
Fíli sipped his ale, a reluctant snort escaping him. Life with Kíli around was never dull, he'd give his brother that.
Behind his back, he heard the door open and Kíli's surprised voice. Curiosity prodded Fíli to his feet and to the door.
A dozen dwarves and one hobbit clustered before Kíli's doorstep, many of them looking mighty determined. Fíli's gaze swept across them, his surprise growing at the strange assortment – the junior captain, Ríkin, and his two brothers; the clockmaker, Nyrar, and his cousin, Nyri, the glassblower; the two tapestry weavers (he couldn't quite remember their names), and Grómi. A family of three he could not recall meeting. Three females were in the group. The red-headed and brown-haired matrons wore intricate marriage braids that dangled over their right ears. The third wore her silver hair free but for a braid showing her House.
The red-headed matron bowed to him when Fíli's gaze reached her, the bells she wove into her beard chiming. "Prince."
Fíli's gaze slid to his brother's. Kíli, he determined, had no idea what this was about. And, he realized with growing exultation, his brother was having a hard time keeping his eyes from the silver-haired, pink-cheeked maid. Fíli's mustache trembled as he swallowed a smug smile. Perhaps Kíli wouldn't be as much an impediment to his own unorthodox courtship as he'd feared.
With difficulty, Fíli hid his sudden mirth and directed his attention back to the group before them. "Bilbo?"
Kíli's arm brushed his as his brother shifted closer. Bilbo wound his way to the head of the pack, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Their hobbit cleared his throat. "Ah. I'm not quite sure why I'm here. I was enjoying a spot of tea when Matron…?"
"Tova," the red-headed matron provided, her face creased with amusement as she jingled the bells in her beard.
"Tova," Bilbo said, nodding once. Back to Fíli, "When the lady requested…" a sardonic roll of the eye "…that I accompany her."
"A moment, and my son will explain, my princes," Matron Tova said. "If we might join you?"
Fíli turned to Kíli, who in turn cocked a brow at him. "I believe they came to see you," Fíli said, amused at the situation and gratified to see dwarves consulting Kíli. The younger prince was not as often sought out, and it was high time in Fíli's estimation that Erebor's populace started appreciating his brother.
Kíli turned a disgruntled look his way before announcing, "Please, come in."
OoOoOo
Kíli's first clue that this impromptu meeting would be vastly more interesting than he'd anticipated was the unexpected touch of a small hand upon his. He startled, earning Fíli's curious glance, and schooled his face into a pleasant welcome to his guests as his mind raced. No one had been close enough to touch him. A second touch, and he knew. Jubilation filled him. His Helpers were here. A third, fourth, and fifth hand brushed his. Kíli took a deep breath, ignoring Fíli's sudden, close scrutiny. No fragrances. He almost frowned. They are hiding from us? Relief to find they remained unkinked his spine even as worry hardened his jaw.
Before the mixed group could explain themselves, Fíli startled. "Mahal. I'm late. Uncle is waiting."
Fíli was leaving him in charge? Kíli was about to grin when he received a measuring look from his brother. "Go," Kíli said soberly. "If this is a matter needing your attention, I'll inform you later." If it would not prove detrimental to the Helpers, he tacked on privately.
Fíli nodded. Then, after inclining his head to the others in the room, he departed. The door clicked shut behind him. Kíli's brows rose as he scanned the group. His gaze stalled once more when it reached the silver-haired maiden. By Durin's beard, she put even the elfess Tauriel to shame. He tore free of those magnetic blue eyes, clearing his throat. Bilbo, he noticed, watched him with growing amusement. Kíli gave him a wry look in return.
"How can I be of assistance?" Kíli asked. A glance proved the maid's eyes still lingered upon him, and a bright smile curled her lips. Though he suspected a familial link between her and Ríkin, he could not resist. Kíli winked at her and was gratified when she turned bright red.
OoOoOo
Pepper near expired laughing to see Kíli wink at Tíra, and Tíra's resulting blush. She didn't believe either of the pair noticed the three brothers beginning to glower at the prince or the dwarrowdam observing all with smug satisfaction.
Pepper leaned into Ríkin's back, knowing he'd feel the laughter shaking her frame. Later, she would blame her actions upon the months of loneliness mixed with the fear that she'd lose him. She suddenly realized Ríkin couldn't betray her presence. He wouldn't, to the best of his ability, she was sure. That left a veritable world of options open to her. Since the day with the cake, there'd been no play between them. That, she determined, had to change. Like, perhaps…now.
Smiling and ignoring the way Nutmeg's mouth formed an "O", she leaned upon tip-toes and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. As far as distractions went, it was a resounding success. She was pretty sure he forgot his sister even existed for a heartbeat.
OoOoOo
Soft lips pressed to the nape of his neck, and Ríkin's eyes near fell from his skull. His shoulders tensed. Mahal, what was his brownie...? Was she teasing him? Aye! And when he dared not respond. As if it was a game, this meeting. Or as if the prince was not flirting with his baby sister before his very eyes.
Through the brush of lips, he felt Pepper's smile as she kissed that same spot again.
"Ríkin?"
Was that Prince Kíli's voice?
With difficulty, Ríkin refocused upon the prince and tried to ignore the brownie pressing into him from behind. I'll be getting even, my lassie, he promised as she ran hands up his arms, her wee body trembling with laughter. By Aulë and all the Valar. Aye. A braid. He cared naught if he must do so blind. If she was going to take such liberties, he'd have both courtship and betrothal braids upon her head this eve. By Durin, he would.
Thekkin nudged him to attention, and he realized the prince eyed him with growing amusement. His dam smirked knowingly, and his brothers surveyed him as if he was daft.
Yer playing with fire, my lassie. Mark my words, I'll have my revenge.
His Pepper's finger traced a circle upon the back of his hand, and at first, he struggled to remember 'twas the signal they'd agreed upon. She had to repeat it thrice before he realized he'd been given the all's-clear. None of the Terrors lurked in the room, and that was a relief. Aye, and 'twas good to know she was still alert to the danger of their situation. Playing, he grumbled. At such a time as this. Yet, he felt his own spirits lift. By Durin, he was relieved to have her back. And proud, aye he was, to have won such a lassie.
Ríkin rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat, heat stealing up his neck as he realized he'd stood there staring into space for a good while with over a dozen dwarves gazing at him expectantly. He hesitated, irritated anew to have to make his apologies publicly. Then a wee foot nudged him in the ankle, and his lips quirked. Aye, spicy. "'tis the truth, I'm owing you an apology, Prince."
OoOoOo
Clove smothered a laugh behind her hand as Pepper ran a finger down Ríkin's neck, causing his apology to falter. Watching her older sister with the gray-haired dwarf, Clove felt a pang of envy…and regret. She adored each minute with her prince, but now she longed to kick herself. It had never occurred to her to use touch to speak with him. Given Thorin's decree, the possibility never crossed her mind.
She supposed Pepper was correct. After Ríkin had stumbled upon her, what was the use in hiding? What was the use in my hiding? Eyes narrowing, Clove berated herself soundly. She could at least hold Fíli's hand. Couldn't she?
OoOoOo
Kíli listened with growing bafflement – and perhaps a measure of wicked glee – as the Helper's arch-nemesis (as he'd dubbed him in his mind) apologized stiffly before him. Truth be told, he felt a measure of sympathy well up within him, too, for the dwarf's ear-tips were turning red. Who would have thought Dwalin's stodgy underling so bashful?
"As entertaining as this is, laddie…" one of the other dwarves interrupted. With the colorful glass beads adorning his beard, Kíli easily recognized him as the glassblower, Nyri.
Ríkin startled, and Kíli's focus sharpened to see Ríkin's hand surreptitiously lash out behind him, grasping at nothing. Kíli's eyes flared wide and a laugh almost burst from his lips. Helper. What was the Helper doing to rile the dwarf so? And why?
"…ye've not told us why ye've brought us together. And while we appreciate the show, we do have work to be doing." Then silently, *Ye promised word of our Helpers.*
Kíli straightened. Helpers were present, and now Ríkin promised news of them? "Ríkin?"
Ríkin seemed to abandon his attempts at recollecting his dignity with a wry and resigned glance at his brothers. "Aye, it's as ye say," Ríkin said at last. "I've news." Then in iglishmêk, *Our Helpers left behind a gift for us, and I'm thinking it's high time we use it.*
Questions immediately sprang up from all but Bilbo, fingers waggling as demands were made for answers. Ríkin reached into his tunic, withdrew a thick stack of parchment pages, and began to pass them out as he continued, careful with his words. "They had another festival planned for us," Ríkin explained. "To aid us."
"Against the fear that haunts our Halls, ye mean?" Nyri demanded, the glassblower's hands running down his beard and fiddling with the beads they encountered.
"Why is nothing being done about it?" blond-haired Grómi asked.
Kíli chose his words with care. "I don't believe Uncle understands what is happening." He tapped his fingers against his belt. "Thus far, there seems no danger. Only the fear." Kíli almost retracted the statement when Ríkin's good eye zoomed to him, disagreement upon the junior captain's face, but the other dwarf quickly redirected the conversation.
Kíli listened intently as Ríkin detailed discovering a house full of decorations and showing them the sketches he'd found. The dwarves and Bilbo clustered around him, examining and remarking over each.
Though Kíli absorbed every word, he was more intent about what Ríkin actually knew, for Kíli was certain the dwarf was holding back. Kíli's dark eyes swept across the dwarf in search of clues. That was when he saw it - a bracelet dangling from the dwarf's left wrist. If Ríkin was courting a dwarrowmaid, news of it would have spread through the mountain. Female dwarves in Erebor were few, and each pairing was cause for rejoicing. If a dwarrowmaid had offered Ríkin a bracelet, the forwardness of such an act would have set every tongue to wagging. Yet here stood Ríkin, a courtship bracelet on his wrist, and nary a word.
It has to be recent. Speculation would be raging like wildfire if many had seen the object. An invisible Helper teases him, and Ríkin still takes all care to shield her presence. Kíli's lips twitched. Which one had done it? Which had won over their grumpy guard? Clove? Pine?
Why keep the Helpers' presence a secret? For that is what Ríkin did, presenting the case that by celebrating Yule as the Helpers had intended, the dwarves of Erebor might lure the Helpers back as well as counter the odd, oppressive air stealing over their Halls.
Why do you hide them? Kíli's eyes narrowed. Why did the Helpers hide at all? Fingers tapping upon his belt, Kíli bided his time.
OoOoOo
"That's not a part of Yule," Bilbo commented, leaning over one of the parchment sketches. In it, a heavily bearded dwarf wore a red and white suit and carried a bag of presents upon his back. He was put to mind of Aleks's description long ago of Earth Realm's Santa Claus. Was that what these Faerie denizens were recreating?
A dozen dwarf eyes flew to him, many less than happy at his observation.
Bilbo cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but it isn't."
Steinur, a dwarf with brown hair as wild as Bifur's, rocked upon his feet. "Could be, could be." Then with an easy smile, Steinur's pale blue eyes twinkling, he said, "Yet our Helpers included it. If our purpose is to allow them help us, I'm thinking we should follow their plans. So our Yule will differ in part from that of the Shire." Those pale eyes swept through the rest of them. "Seems to me it only makes it more particular to us."
Or, Bilbo thought drily, another realm's.
"More dwarfish," the blond dwarf, Grómi, decreed, folding his arms before his barrel of a chest. At Grómi's words, many of the other dwarves looked much happier about the entire plan.
Why, Bilbo asked himself as the discussion flowed around him, had he been selected by Ríkin and Tova to be a part of this matter? It was gratifying to be included – he was not quibbling about it – but until this day, few dwarves sought him out for his opinion. If he was frank with himself, he had to admit these last months had been difficult. Bilbo had thought Thorin unwelcoming when he'd joined the Company, but now, he knew Thorin quite accepting of strangers when compared to most of his people.
The younger Durin must have read the question in his eyes, for he shrugged minutely and shook his head. Bilbo held his tongue for the moment and contented himself with listening, feeling more at home than he had for too long.
OoOoOo
Kíli winked at Bilbo as more and more oddities were stuffed into a traditional Shire holiday. If Bilbo's expression was any indication, this new, dwarfish Yule would have little in common with his friend's beloved holiday. Still, Kíli decided Bilbo seemed to find humor in the venture, and Kíli had long since decided Bilbo needed more humor. Why the hobbit remained among them when it was plain his heart longed for the Shire, Kíli had yet to ascertain. Thorin had commanded the matter left alone, so Kíli's questions remained unanswered.
Kíli rubbed his chin, exchanging a short look with Tíra. Those blue eyes gleamed with excitement as her brother finished outlining his plan, giving her a radiance that drew his gaze time and again. He cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. His lips quirked. Kíli had to admit this Yule business sounded like fun. "Alright. We do as the Helpers intended." To Nyri, Kíli directed, "Can you make enough of these glass globes for the tree?"
Nyri folded his meaty arms over his colorful, bead-studded beard, his heavy black brows bunching above his nose. Then a warm smile. "For our lassie, aye. I'll see it done."
For their lassie? Kíli didn't betray his thoughts with so much as a twitch of his eyebrows, but another suspicion reared its head. Why had Ríkin chosen these dwarves in particular? Why Bilbo? There had to be a reason. Nyri's proclamation, and the staunch agreement from every dwarf in the room, provided him a good idea as to the answer.
OoOoOo
Silent tears tracked down Hyssop's face at Nyri's bold words, and Comfrey wrapped an arm around their youngest's shoulders. Pepper stopped teasing Ríkin and wrapped her arms around him, almost undone by how much she and her sister brownies gained from these dwarves. Gruff and opinionated, they might be, but they had hearts of pure gold.
"They love you," she mouthed to Hyssop and received a watery smile in return.
OoOoOo
Something changed his lassie's mood, for instead of teasing, she wrapped her arms around him and stayed there. Ríkin spared a thought to be grateful, both for his lassie herself and that her teasing had ended – though that would not save her from his retribution, nay it would not. Truth be told, it had only been the image of the Terrors that had halted him from locating her ankles on the spot and suspending her upside down once more.
His lassie, he suspected, would not have been pleased, but he could not help but laugh to picture it. The image was one he enjoyed, as impossible as it was at the moment. She'd blister his if she learned of it, for sure, but still… Aye, an amusing thought.
OoOoOo
"And the tree?" Kíli asked, turning to the blond-haired Grómi. As the ranking warrior overseeing the barracks, Grómi and his warriors were the ideal choice to obtain the towering pine they'd need.
"Aye, we'll get it done," Grómi said. "Where shall we hide it?"
Kíli rubbed his chin, but before he could decide, the riveting Tíra spoke up. "We do this all in one night, aye?"
Kíli and Ríkin both nodded. Kíli noted Ríkin's sour expression as Tíra's blue eyes latched onto Kíli and seemed reluctant to move away. Kíli winked at her again, and her smile grew.
"The brow—" Tíra drew herself up short at her dam's sudden coughing fit. Kíli hastily offered Tova a cup of water, but the matron waved that away with no explanation. "The plans," Tíra continued, "call for use of the Hall of the Forefathers. Can we not simply store it there?"
Thekkin grunted, elbows upon knees where he sat. "It's not in use," he said. "But it's been repaired."
Good enough. Better that hall be used for the living instead of remaining a mausoleum-like tribute to the dead. "Everyone understands his assignment?" Kíli asked.
Nods all around.
Kíli felt a cocky grin spread across his lips. "Then let's do this for our Helpers, aye? And for our people?"
A chorus of ayes shook the room.
A short time later, all filed out his door but for Bilbo and Ríkin. Those two, he detained. The instant the door closed, Kíli rounded on the dwarf with a false smile. "There is much you neglected to say." He directed a significant at Ríkin's belly. It was scarcely noticeable, but something invisible pressed across Ríkin's beard.
Ríkin glanced down, scowled, and moved what must have been a Helper's arm, tucking it beneath the beard.
Kíli refrained from smirking, but by Durin, it was tempting. The Helpers' most vocal detractor, smitten with one. "Tell me the rest," Kíli said.
"Yer uncle commanded silence," Ríkin said.
Kíli folded arms before his chest. "I care not about my uncle's decree." Ríkin and Bilbo both reacted at his blunt words, but Kíli refused to retract them. "We have fearful things stalking these Halls, and Thorin does not act. Helpers appear, and when it seems Uncle finally accepts them, they vanish, and he does nothing." With each word, the anger that had lain dormant flared to new life. "He does not investigate, and he does not protect."
Bilbo looked like he'd bitten into something sour. The hobbit had words he longed to voice, but they did not emerge. Kíli turned on Ríkin.
That one relented. "Aye, 'tis as ye say. But my prince, he has his reasons." Ríkin withdrew another series of sketches from his tunic and plunked them down before Kíli and Bilbo. Both blanched at the pictures before them. "This…" Bilbo said. "Is this what I think it is?"
Kíli shook his head. "The Nine," he whispered. "It has to be."
Ríkin's head whipped towards Kíli. "The Ringwraiths?" Ríkin asked, his face hard.
"You didn't know what they were?" Kíli asked.
A sour look came over the gray-haired dwarf's face. "Nay," Ríkin said. "I had no name for them." With a shake of his head, he added, "Your uncle is trying to protect us all."
"Should we even be discussing this?" Bilbo hissed with a furtive look around. "They can be anywhere, invisible."
"Nay, they cannot," Ríkin said, earning Kíli and Bilbo's full attention. "Our Helpers, our brownies, can see them. My lassie would have let me know if one neared."
"You've seen them?" Bilbo interrupted, surprise upon his face.
Ríkin turned a disgruntled expression over his shoulder. "Not the one I'm wanting to see," he muttered. Something must have transpired that Kíli failed to see, for the dwarf snorted and a small grin flashed. The dour dwarf actually appeared happy.
Kíli's lips quirked, but amusement proved short-lived as he returned to Ríkin's revelations. "Uncle knows the Nine are here. Thorin knows what attacks himself and Fíli both?"
"Aye."
Kíli drew one of the sheets to him, icy fingers crawling up his spine. Truly, the wraiths were terrible to behold. "They are spying on us, aren't they? Searching for Daphne and Aleks?"
"Yes." This time, it was Bilbo who spoke, and reluctantly at that.
"You knew?" Kíli asked, incredulous. The serious look upon his friend's face halted his further words.
Bilbo's thumbs tucked into his vest pockets. "We were instructed not to speak of this…"
"By whom?" Kíli interrupted.
Bilbo's eyes narrowed upon him. "…and I would advise caution. Yes, we had warning. That they seek Mistress Hunt is beyond doubt, but I suspect they also search for answers. Sauron witnessed that Muriste…"
"Who is Muriste?" Kíli burst, gratified to hear that for once, Ríkin was on his side as he echoed the question. Kíli couldn't believe this. Why was he only hearing about all of this now? You have some explaining to do, Uncle.
Bilbo muttered into his hand. Then dropping it, he straightened and met their gazes head-on. "The Old One who tossed orcs around like toys before Erebor's gates during the Battle of Five Armies," Bilbo informed him. Kíli immediately pictured what Bilbo referred to, for he'd seen it first-hand. Bilbo continued, "Of course Sauron would send the Nine. A creature so powerful would be of incredible interest to the Dark Lord, I should think. Thorin knows this. It's why such talk is dangerous. Do you understand, Kíli?"
Kíli drummed his fingers upon the table before them. "I understand," he said levelly. "But I also understand my people are suffering. My uncle and Fíli have both been attacked," he pointed out impatiently, one arm waving. "We must do something."
"We are," a new voice intruded, one feminine and rich with impatience. "Daft men."
Kíli straightened, anger buried under a blanket of shock.
Ríkin smirked over his shoulder. "Yer under orders not to speak, my Pepper."
"I can't just stand here and let you talk yourselves into doing something stupid." Soft footsteps neared, and Kíli felt a hand pat his cheek. "You're our favorite, Kíli."
"Favorite?" Ríkin bristled while Kíli recovered from the surprise of hearing from a Helper and preened at the compliment.
"Yes, my love, our favorite," the Helper, Pepper, sang. Kíli laughed to see invisible fingers press against Ríkin's beard in another pat.
Kíli leaned back with a cocky grin, content to watch.
"Now, Thorin had his reasons, and this isn't forever. We brownies want a celebration. We want to see our dwarves happy again, and we expect you to help us make it happen."
"Why not decorate overnight as you did before?" Kíli asked.
"Thorin believed it would cause suspicion. But if we present our feasts as being from the Shire, or a wise and concerned prince maybe dreams them up…"
Kíli hooted, slapping his knee. "Alright, my Helper." He winked in her direction, ignoring Ríkin's low growl of warning and possessive stance. "For now, you get your way. And your celebration."