This is a sequel to the story Broken Curses. Thráin is on the throne and ordering his world righted. There is of course Thorin and company, Gandalf, Bilbo, Celeborn, Galadriel and Elrond and others of the Hobbit era. It picks up where Broken Curses leaves off. The Thráin I like for appearance is the first one shown in the first Hobbit movie, where he has one eye and macabre scar. The story is not following any cannon; it doesn't follow any book or movie, but I will reference what I will, when I want and place it to my liking in the story or change, invent or do whatever I feel like. No spamming.

These are all the Sindarin terms I plan on using. Please refer here for a term as I won't put them at the end of a chapter.

nín - my
hervenn – husband
hervess – wife
bruin meldir – old friend
elleth – female elf
neth - young
peredhel – half elf
aiut naneth - ancient mother
iôn – son
daeriôns – grandsons
daeriell - granddaughter
melethril-nín – my lover
meleth-nín – my love
ellon – male elf
fëas – entwined souls
naneth – mother
hanna – to thank or thank you
daernaneth – grandmother
daeradar – grandfather
daerodhrons – grandparents
elleth – female elf
adar – father
naneth – mother
daeriôns-nín – my grandsons
iôns-nín – my sons
hanna-nín – my thanks
iell - daughter
pen neth – young one
mellon- nín – my friend
mae govannen - greeting

Erebor Rising

Lord Dóvad belted out a hearty roar and slapped his engraved silver mug of ale into that of his soon to be relative, Lord Skafid, leader of all Stonefoots. "Who says only the Durin's have the ability ta arrange marriages?"

"Aye, Dóvad," Skafid audaciously agreed. "The contract is already in the hands of our scribes and within a month we will see the uniting of the great Stonefoot Clan with our southern allies, the Blacklocks." They turned their attention to the party Lord Dóvad's wife organized for this propitious occasion of a contractual betrothal of Skafid's son, Trefid, to Dóvad's daughter, Lióni.

Bright flaming torches cast shadows on the stone walls that leapt and surged in tempo with the merriment of dwarves dancing a favorite reel this cold, winter night. Dwarves of title were invited to the largest hall within the Blacklocks stronghold of Jötunheim in the Southern district of the Red Mountains to celebrate their Lord's daughter was finally being wed. The Stonefoots shared the western slopes of the Orocarni, while their sister clans moved yet eastward until no word reached their ears in over twenty-five hundred years, and their fate became unknown. A few of the ill-fated Ironfists and Stiffbeards remained in the Orocarni and intermarried in an age so far in the past their blood no longer counted as separate in the councils.

Lióni slipped away from her dancing partner and made good her plans to escape when the reel made its final turn around the room. So far she managed to avoid meeting any of the Stonefoots who came to Jötunheim; first by hiding at a friend's cavern and then slipping into the dance late. She made sure her mother knew she was present to tell her father and then planned her exit. She breathed a sigh of relief as her feet swiftly took her to the family chambers, where all servants were allotted time away from serving while the lord and his family were at the dance. Stripping her gown especially made for the occasion; she tossed it haphazardly on the bed, not caring half of the skirt draped to the floor, and added her delicate underthings which landed on or near the gown. Naked, she tore open her closet made of sturdy oak and grabbed her favorite clothing. First she pulled long woolen underwear over her bare buttocks and tied them swiftly, shivering against the chill of a room where the fire was allowed to burn down to embers. A thick knit top covered her bare breasts and her next item was tough pants of stiff, durable material. A knitted sweater, wool socks and her leather boots had her ready to tackle the freezing temperatures. Shaking combs from her hair, she quickly made one long braid down her back and added a hat of tanned rabbit fur. Her ensemble was complete when she added several knives, grabbed her bow and quiver and retreated from her family home.

White vapor told anyone watching when she exhaled that it was cold and her breath didn't drift away as she would like this dark night. Ever since she was a dwarfling, she could be found among the warriors with her brother who was only a year her senior and they were proud a dwarrowlass was so talented with a sword and bow. This cold night, they naturally allowed her passage through their posts due to her warming their hearts with her caring about them and sneaking food from the Lord's own table. Tonight she brought deserts, she squirreled away from the kitchens for the party.

"Ye don't go far, lass," a seasoned guard warned.

"I need air, Trike. I'll be careful." Lióni ran into the pines to put distance from her and a fate worse than orcs or goblins…...marriage to someone she could never love. How her mother allowed this travesty, she would never understand. She cut off a well-used trail and started climbing the steep slope, ever higher until she broke from the pines into alder shrubs that she had to fight through. Breaking a few dry twigs that cracked loudly as they broke under the weight of her boots, she used her hands, encased in warm fur lined mittens to aid her climb. The going became easier and within steps she was on crusted snow to her destination of a rock outcrop. Sitting on a small rock just low enough to form a stool, she watched the stars with wonder. 'I don't want this nightmare. Maybe I can run away and find work in the caverns of the Longbeards. I'm half Longbeard. They will have to take me in. If I succumb to wearing my hated beard, I can easily become a soldier. Father has taught me alongside my brother since I could walk.

Alone in her misery, she didn't have a clue that several hundred miles to the west an elf was watching her.

"What do you see, hervess-nín?" Celeborn sat on the chair carved into the Mallorn root and rested his back against grey bark. He could tell by her shift in posture the mirror was alive.

"Mithrandir will leave within the month, as soon as the pass is clear enough."

"I should see him safely to the Dimrill Stair," Celeborn declared and waited patiently for more news.

"Yes, you and he need to talk. He is still troubled by the thought of a wizard turning to serve Sauron." She watched as images floated outward from a tiny drop of water in the center of her mirror. "Our daeriôns are safely at the Refuge of Edhelion where Lord Estoras is being an exceptional host and they are drinking his wine at an alarming rate. They act like you," she added cheekily.

"More like their Imladris mentor, Glorfindel," Celeborn objected.

"A man entered the gates of Mithlond with the gold Thráin provided for ponies. He must be wishing to unload his gold. Taíban is taking it and exchanging for equal value in silver and copper that men prefer as currency."

"While dwarves and elves prefer gold or Mithril," Celeborn noted.

There was silence for a moment and Galadriel spoke again. "Elrond is in his workshop. He looks to be mending a book."

Celeborn rose and on feet encased in soft doe hide shoes, made her side in a flash. Her mirror held no allure for him, but he was curious why Elrond would mend something personally when his house was stacked with adroit elves.

Time stopped as they watched their son-in-law carefully remove a broken backed cover made of leather. Age cracked the spine and loose pages were falling out. With reverential care he laid them to one side and searched the book coverings until he had one of like dimensions. In the flickering light, with practiced hands, he sewed the pages to the binding using a thin strand of wet sinew. Once dried, it would tighten and hold the pages fast for hundreds of years. Clipping the strand's end signaling he was done binding; he closed the book and dipped a narrow paintbrush in a vial and in Sindar Cirth they saw him write: Letters To Lord Elrond From Lady Celebrían: Volume Four. His hands quickly recreated the cover perfectly, adding bright designs of birds, flowers and leaves.

"Usually the Valar don't give me that much time or detail," Galadriel murmured softly, eyes misting at the care he gave precious letters written in an age past. "They were kind to us this night for the glimpse into Elrond's private undertaking to preserve our daughter's words of love."

Celeborn let his arms engulf her for comfort and felt her lean her back against his chest. He gently brushed a long lock of gold off her neck and replaced the spot with his lips. "I wish we had parchment for our love letters instead of memories."

"I'm writing many of them in a book for Arwen's wedding. It will be a gift from me to my daeriell. I saw the boys purchase the rings. Events are unfolding rapidly now; as they did in the First Age."

The scene changed again and candlelight remained, but the background shifted from an airy workshop to a cavern of dwarves. There was a party with merriment and dancing in the halls of those she knew were not of the Longbeard clan; their neighbors for the last two ages. For only Longbeards inhabited the Misty Mountains to the Blue's and White range as well. She knew the Firebeards and Broadbeams were long dead; killed when the Valar sank parts of Beleriand, and Ironfists and Stiffbeards hadn't been mentioned since it was rumored they went with the blue wizards to lands east of the Orocarni and disappeared from the annals of history.

"I don't recognize the banners," Celeborn commented. He stayed for the viewing when he felt his wife's fëa needing replenishing. His fëa was now soothing her weariness.

"I do believe it is a celebration of sorts and there is more than one clan in attendance. My guess is the Stonefoots and Blacklocks are celebrating…..maybe a marriage or pact." She stopped talking and watched. The mirror darkened and at first she thought it was done revealing until her eyes adjusted. Under the flight of Eärendil sat a dwarrowlass gazing into the heavens. There was just enough light from Ithil to see sadness in a small body, where all but her face was buried beneath layers.

"She is without her beard," Celeborn added. "Why are you seeing dwarves?"

"If she weren't important to Middle Earth, I wouldn't be. I have learned not to question the wisdom of the Valar. The mirror is often a puzzle and the pieces emerge for me to assemble. I will remember her."

Another shift and the face of Thorin Oakenshield filled her bowl. He was like the lass, sitting with his back against a saddle in the dark and staring into the night sky. Like a bird flying ever higher, the scene backed away until they could see a camp of over thirty more dwarves sitting on the frozen ground, chewing what looked like jerky. No fires lit the camp.

"Mithrandir told us Oakenshield would be going to arrest a Lord Fræg, head healer to the city of Jötunheim," Celeborn spoke softly. "They must be getting close and are far enough south to not wish to draw attention of the Nazgûl."

The mirror darkened and Ithil was reflected on the calm surface.

Galadriel closed her eyes and let her head fall back on his shoulder and whispered in his mind, 'I need your strength, meleth-nín. Refresh my fëa and I leave the method in your hands.'

Celeborn let his swift mind flit over a few scenarios as his fingers splayed over her abdomen and massaged. 'Which bedroom do you yearn for?'

'Mmmm, the one with the most excellent wine. I think with a glass to melt my stiff muscles and your magic hands regenerating my body and fëa sans this gown and I may be generous to allow you a hunting trip with Legolas for a few days.'

'I plan on you leaving me too weak and tired to mount Agenon.' Gentle hands withdrew and placed her left hand on his right and they made the long climb to their talan.

Entering their main hall, they spotted Arwen and Legolas playing flutes and the hall unusually quiet as intermingling elves watched the young couple in hopes a budding romance was gracing their lives. A few elves softly sang the words to a song from the First Age.

'Are we going to disappoint them?' Celeborn inquired.

'No, give our elves hope. Our losses from the battle are still torturing friable fëas and we don't need more sailing.

They sat on a settee, hands still together until the lay of Beren was complete.

"I told you Adar made me learn all the old songs," Legolas boasted.

"As I was also instructed by my naneth and adar," Arwen quickly retorted and turned her gaze upon her beloved grandparents. "It has reached my ears, Daeradar, that you and Legolas are planning a hunting trip that you promised me. Remember last year, you said next hunt for a bear or lion and you would take me?"

Celeborn noted her determined look. "I wasn't going far. Just to the foothills west of here where a mountain lion was spotted. We don't need it feasting on our sheep and goats that live on those verdant meadows. You may come." He saw her smile at him.

"I wish to kill the animal," Arwen declared. "My brothers are always bringing great tales and hides to Imladris of their hunts. I wish a hunting story of my own."

"If it is in my power, you may have your story," Celeborn dryly replied. "Although," his eyes shifted to Legolas, "your hunting companion might not be so generous."

Arwen's eyes followed his to Legolas, who looked sad all the sudden. She reached for his arm and laid a soft hand over the richly designed robe. "Tell me what ails you, mellon-nín."

He returned the gesture briefly and his warm hand squeezed hers and in a flash released, lest the elves present drew the wrong conclusion. "I used to hunt with Tauriel often. It was I who taught her how and she was a good hunter."

"Silvan elves are natural hunters," Celeborn reminded him. "As are Sindar elves. It's the Ñoldor who would starve if not for their ability to drop a seed in the ground."

"If you wish a fight, Moriquendi, I will remind you how several thousand of us survived for five years on the Helcaraxë, where a seed would have frozen."

"I want a story of your journey," Arwen quickly tossed out before her grandparents started another silent war of mental communication, or worse, verbally in front of everyone.

Galadriel looked around at their friends and they were nodding. She let her gaze settle on Gandalf and he smiled.

"I can wait until I go to bed for a pipe. I know elves dislike smoke inside." He voiced his desire to hear a story.

"Very well." She thought of what story to tell, aware Legolas would be hearing one from her lips for the first time of their crossing.

'Don't tell anything about deaths this close to Legolas losing his friend,' Celeborn mentally admonished.

With a gentle flow of warmth through their bond and linked fingers, Galadriel began. "With Manwë's dire prediction fresh in our ears, Uncle Fingolfin led us onto the icepack under the stars, which were brilliant and lighted our path. It was a frozen beauty I've not seen since and although we have tried with songs and poetry, one had to have been there to understand. Lights color of the rainbow danced over our heads continuously and the grinding and cracking of ice breaking under pressure of smashing together with great force under our feet made sleeping all but a distant memory. Our fëas still glowed from the light of Aman's trees, so we had light all the time around us and with the flick of a finger could summons enough heat to cook the fish we caught by chopping holes in the ice."

"Can you still cook that way?" Arwen interrupted.

Galadriel favored her with a smile. "I don't know where my powers from that time end and the ring begins, but yes, I have power to cook fish with a wave of my hand. The first year wasn't so bad. Had we known just how horrible it would become; we most certainly would have turned back and thrown ourselves upon the mercy of the Valar, but we were two years into our journey when fate turned against us. We entered a darkness where the stars fled and rarely did we see the lights dancing in the sky. With their departure, so did our good spirits. The Valar didn't tell us how long the crossing would take or the toll it would extract in the form of blood. Food became scarce and a slow starvation settled upon us. The ice became too thick to chop down to open water.

"Was that before or after the ice started claiming lives?" Legolas asked.

Galadriel looked calmly upon him; ascertaining telling the truth wouldn't adversely harm his recovering fëa. "We lost a few, including Elenwë before that time. She was also a third cousin to Glorfindel from his mother's side. She was among the first to fall to through the ice of the Helcaraxë and we almost lost Turgon when he in went after her. They were missing for several days and when we found him, he was sitting by a slab of ice. Incased inside the block was Elenwë. He said when he pulled her from the water, it was so cold that she froze immediately and then he couldn't get her away from the bubbling water and each time water burst from the ocean and covered her, another layer of ice was added. His adar, Fingolfin, convinced him to continue and not die with his wife for the sake of Idril Celebrindal, their daughter. I wasn't there, but with Idril and was told by those who followed after Turgon, that they pushed her into the water and watched as she sank from sight. Our fëas were in shock for many months and all we could do was trudge deeper onto the ice."

She felt Celeborn wishing to speak into her mind and paused for him.

'I know this story will resurrect painful memories. Tonight, I will remove them with those you love the most.'

'And that is why I chose you above all ellon to mate with.' "Then the white bears came. They would follow us like a pack of wolves follows the migrating herds of bison on the plains of the Rhûn. We killed all that came close and learned not to throw anything away and hides became fur hats and by the time we passed the ice, all had a warm hat and we looked like a field of cotton."

She got her desired result when a few laughed.

"One day a strange light appeared in the sky and lightened our journey; giving us a sign that we would not perish alone and forgotten. For a year we walked in the direction of the rising globe and we called it Isil and it reminded us of our dear dead tree, Telperion. I was awake and watching over Idril allowing her rest. She was but an elfling and the trip taxed her harder than adult elves. Isil had just sank into the west when another light was dawning. I quickly woke my charge so she could also see what we were looking at. It grew so bright we had to shade our eyes and for the first time we saw the ice in shades of pink and orange, with hues of blue and green in the shaded parts. It was beautiful. That first day, we walked and marveled at a world where the sky was blue and no stars could compete with its power. That night, we watched our first sunset and the oranges and pinks were so deep in color we wept for joy."

Galadriel saw several older elves nod that they too remembered that day. She cast a glance to her right and felt Celeborn a great distance from her in his mind. "Your thoughts, my lord?"

Celeborn frowned, "I hardly think an elfling of just past a hundred and forty capable of fully appreciating the wonders of that first day."

Laughter erupted around the room.

"That's what you're thinking?" Galadriel's tone chilled to the temperature of a cold night on the Helcaraxë.

Again mirth rolled out of mouths, including her granddaughter and Legolas she noted with satisfaction.

'It worked. His fëa has lifted,' she silently told her husband. "For weeks we traveled in this newness and when the light didn't leave us, we knew the Valar gifted it to light our paths. One day we saw darkness in the distance. Unsure of what was before us, Fingolfin sent his son, Fingon and Glorfindel ahead to scout for us. The next day they returned, bursting in excitement we could feel radiating from buoyant fëas. Running to us they slid on the ice in their boots until stopping before Fingolfin. 'Ahead is the end of the ice. We made it,' Fingon shouted and word passed to the end of the line. We broke into songs of joy and praise to the Valar for seeing us this far. Three days and our feet touched rock. We were on the side of a mountain range where nothing flourished. We turned south and within days started seeing birds and open water along the shore where fish once again was on the menu. We all braved the icy water for sponge baths and I can still remember how wonderful and invigorating it was."

"I can take you hunting with us and you can dip into the icy ponds in the mountains," Celeborn added with a straight face.

"And on that note, I just ended the story." Galadriel rose and turned, holding her hand out to him. "You promised me a glass of wine and now I need to warm up."

Celeborn took it and fluidly rose giving a rare public kiss to the offered hand.

Arwen jumped up for a goodnight kiss to each cheek. "Daernaneth, I promise when I return, we will look at wedding gown designs."

Legolas' eyes grew wide and he saw several knowing looks thrown at him. He wanted to blurt out, 'You said I wasn't marrying her,' but held his peace.

"I have several in mind. For now, enjoy being young and free."