Fræg was working in the healing wing mixing a draught when a hand gripped his shoulder on the same side his hand was holding a ceramic bowl and it slipped to the floor and broke with a crash. Spinning, he looked up into blue eyes he had a flash wanted to do him harm. "Look what ye made me do," he blustered and then noticed the tattoos all over the shaved head. Suddenly nervous, he inquired, "How can I help ye, Lord Dwalin?" Then noticed the Durin wasn't alone, but two more Durin's were snooping around opening drawers and cabinets. He saw yet two more of Thorin's lords digging into his record books. "I see ye brought the entire entourage his highness travels with. Since ye are walking and snooping an not ailing, how can I help ye?"
"Thorin isn't in the habit of being ignored. Come," he motioned with his free hand, decked in a weapon. The other hadn't moved off the shoulder and the grip was making his arm go numb.
"I wish to see my lord first," Fræg demanded.
"No."
"Fine, let's get this meeting over so I can return to something productive," Fræg peevishly snapped. "They better not steal my supplies."
Outside in the hallway were no less than ten guards who came with Thorin, Fræg noticed and wondered why he was singled out. His steps faltered when he had the stray thought Thorin knew of his blunder. He didn't think exposing a traitor king would almost start a war within this underground city. He was a good healer and by the time Dwalin stopped before a door, he convinced himself Thorin wanted him for an embarrassing medical condition he didn't wish his cousin to know about. When ushered into Lord Dóvad's meeting chamber that Thorin commandeered while in the mountain, he noticed Thorin seated at the head of the long table and quite alone in the capacious room. The door closed behind him and he jerked his head around to find the only other occupant was Dwalin.
"Sit." Dwalin motioned to a spot at the opposite end from Thorin.
He sat down and looked into the face of Thorin and his first look at a ruling Durin. He heard stories in his youth of the splendors of Erebor from the caravans who brought supplies, gold coin and precious gems. They told of the Durin's ruling in wealth and inconceivable splendor. His eyes ran over the top part of the king and armor plated with gold and he knew those stories were more fact than fable. He waited for the king to address him.
"You will come to Erebor and that is an order." Thorin spoke with authority and motioned for Dwalin to remove him from his presence before he succumbed to his baser desire to kill the healer. He knew that would displease his father.
Stunned, Fræg cried out, "Why? Why do I gave ta go with ye, King Thorin?"
Thorin remained silent as Dwalin jerked the healer out of his chair with hands that were used for harming and gentleness a rare occurrence.
Dwalin dragged him to the door and spun him around. That's when he noticed, Dwalin also had golden armor. 'Why didn't I notice before now?' he wondered.
"You will be ready to leave in four days. If you try running or hiding your family will be executed as an example. I suggest you leave any kin here in case you get a case of cowardice."
When he reached for the door latch, Fræg tried once more. "Sirs, if I've caused offense, please tell me." His secret fear was now a full-fledged nightmare. He knew he should confess all, but didn't want to be executed one minute before his time.
Dwalin opened the door and shoved him out. Slamming it shut, he sat at the table near Thorin.
"What did you glean from the soldiers?"
"I tossed out a few gold coins and bought the ale and tongues loosed accordingly. All wanted to drink with ah Durin it seemed," Dwalin reported. "By the third round they were telling of the ill-fated trip a group of miners taking refined ore west encountered with the Shriekers. They said the four who returned left here over three years ago to look for work. I believe we have them in our dungeon. I asked if anyone wanted to harm Durin's and they assured me with no proof that Thráin lives, they aren't holding you responsible for something your father may have done."
"Did they say 'may have'?" Thorin deepened voice asked, tone suggested a struggle not to shout and slam a fist into the table.
Dwalin nodded, "Aye, I questioned the usage of those words. They remembered a rumor of Thrór's gold sickness as it was whispered around campfires at Azanulbizar, although Thrór didn't have spells while his mind was on the war. Least ways I didn't see any. The highest ranking soldier stayed on after the others left. Once alone, he told me riots broke out when the Longbeards learned what the healer called Fræg said King Thráin left the battle and threw in with orcs and is ruler of Dol Guldur. He didn't know exactly what Dóvad offered them, but soon they and their families left here never to return, and the healer has been lying very low."
"He will answer to Father." Done with Dwalin's report, he turned to his next dilemma. "I don't know what I was thinking promising taking all the Longbeards with me; and now they are busy packing and eager to follow me. I never really had to make decisions for so many. One wrong decision and it is on my head," Thorin changed the subject.
"You were caught up in the moment, Thorin." Dwalin tried to console him and wondered briefly what Balin would say. He really was the smarter brother. "We need them in the mountain, so you made the correct choice."
"It will be a long, hard trip and some are very old now," Thorin growled in his deep voice. "We had all that when they came this way. We could only move as fast as our slowest dwarf and I know from Kár's stories, their journey was like ours, only shorter. I maintain Longbeards are the best of all clans. We are a hearty lot and a stretch of our legs in winter will be safer than moving that many in the summer. It wouldn't surprise me if Gróin is of like mind and already on the road from the Blue Mountains." His pep talk to himself cheered him. "I saw on our tour a fighting bridge in the warriors swimming hole. How about a sparring session before we are forced to endure another meal with the lord of Jötunheim."
As they stood, Dwalin laughed. "Dóvad seems to have gotten over his disappointment of a marriage with Skafid's son."
"He is embarrassing the lass with his overt suggestions she would make a great wife for one of us," Thorin replied with a chuckle.
Lióni, garbed in her trousers, shirt and armor, swung her Warhammer with precision and a young dwarrow yelped as the lightweight head slammed into his side.
"Match," the referee called.
The youth glared at her. "Why don't ye go back ta the dams an leave us warriors be?"
"I keep waiting for one of you to send me home all battered and bloody. If I best all in your division, I will advance to the next level and spar with real warriors," she jabbed. "Since I already fight against my brother, I am prepared." She sauntered to the referee and looked at his board. Only two more lads of sixty-five and she would fight the over seventy warriors.
One she bested earlier ran into the training arena. "The king an his cousin are sparring on the catwalk over the pool."
There was a rush and the room emptied leaving Lióni alone. She looked around and nobody was present so followed, walking softly and blending in with the cheering warriors. The entrance to the pool was a flight of steps above the walkway and an arcade was hollowed out around the pool so spectators could watch water activities and warriors trained here regularly. She peered over the shoulder of a cheering warrior, breathed a sigh of relief nobody was focusing on her, as dwarrowdams were forbidden in this all male locale. She blushed when her gaze found the objects of attention in the conclave.
Thorin and Dwalin were stripped to just their bottoms. The front laced garments were died dark blue and ended two inches down their thighs contrasting sharply with the white skin marred by scars as a testament to their lives as warriors.
Dwalin's body bore tattoos of many battles along his arms and on each thigh. Scars ran through what was once works of art making them look broken.
Thorin's body bore a massive tattoo across his back and crossed the broad expanse from arm to arm. It clearly showed the Lonely Mountain and on his right shoulder, high up, was a dragon with a burst of flame pouring from an open toothed snout. Lióni burned to ask him if that was what Smaug actually looked like and was his tail really that long as it looped over Thorin's shoulder and wrapped around his bicep. Then her eyes saw a red, raised angry scar that wrapped from front to back on his left side that was still healing. His left foot was likewise scarred and he seemed to favor it as he dodged to the side and avoided the wooden sword his partner attempted to plunge into his stomach.
Swiftly, Thorin swiped his training sword in an arch trying to take Dwalin's head off. Dwalin ducked and slapped the broad side against Thorin's thigh and a roar and curse exploded from the king's throat and a more audible snarl carried to the galley. "Point, ye blasted son of Smaug." There was general laughter when Dwalin jumped back out of reach and took a bow.
They swiftly exchanged blows that were parried with strokes the eyes could barely follow. From one end of the walk to the other, they allowed the other to advance or retreat until back in the center where neither was willing to dance along the stone wall again. They traded blows and blocked with shields strapped to left forearms, each trying to wear the other down. Swift and sure strokes had both gleaming with sweat and Lióni felt strangeness in her body. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to run her fingers and palms over a sweat soaked body and these were honed to hardness of muscle and sinew.
Thorin knew Dwalin's weaknesses as well as his partner knew his. He went for the nose Dwalin was reticent to get mangled again after an orc scimitar almost split his head at Azanulbizar. At the same time, Dwalin pivoted his body and slammed his sword under Thorin's shield and against his healing side. With an "ooofff", Thorin bent over and dropped his sword with a soft thud. Dwalin wrapped his right arm around Thorin's neck and pulled him tightly against his side. "Do ya concede?"
"I order you to yield the match to me," Thorin croaked.
Dwalin laughed. "And I order you ta cool off." He effortlessly swung Thorin off the catwalk and he dropped into the water feet first.
Thorin broke the surface and pulled his shield off and with much alacrity tried to slam it into Dwalin's head. Dwalin snagged the fast flying object without any effort and tossed it along with his to the stone and dove headfirst into the water beside his prince.
The crowd clapped enthusiastically at the match of a lifetime. Even their best warriors were no match for these two.
A voice spoke in Lióni's ear causing her to jump, "Pick the one ye want an I'll work on them about yer charms."
She colored and looked into the amused eyes of her father. "I heard about the fight and wanted to see it for myself."
He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her from the area before she was discovered. "Ye never were ah normal lass. Wanna know ah secret?"
She looked up into his amused brown eyes.
He continued, "Yer mother was ah lot like ye. She caught my eye the moment my eyes lighted on her, but I had no say in the matter of marriage. For decades, I followed her movements. She was moody an loved ta gather herbs in the mountains. I would come upon her an she would be staring ta the northwest an I knew she was thinking of Erebor an all she lost. Her loss was my gain. I was relieved when she thawed ta me an we were wed. What ye have ta do, lass, is make one of them see ye."
He almost fell over when she asked, "What must I do?"
"Ask yer mother. Dams are masters in that area." Proud of his deflection he walked her to their chambers in silence; his mind wondering what changed in his disinterested daughter.
Óin was waiting when Thorin finally emerged from the pool. He looked at the side closely, and other than a red mark where the blunted wood left a mark, nothing was broken open. "Was it wise letting them see their king healing from injuries?"
"It will give them something to talk about besides what I want with their head healer."
Nori, Bifur and Bofur crowded close and Dwalin swam to within hearing range. Thorin looked around and the area was vacated by his chosen guard and they were now standing guard lest anyone enter.
"Lord Fræg made a complaint to Dóvad, so expect the lord to press you for details," Nori confided.
"Did you find anything of interest in the healing hall?" Dwalin asked while treading water.
"Hallucinogenic herbs," Óin spoke for the three. "If Fræg is addicted to them, who knows what he is conjuring up."
"Watch him closely on the trip. Dwalin, inform the guards to be on the lookout for any secret herb consumption by Fræg," Thorin ordered and saw everyone nod.
"We've been visiting the exiles," Bofur explained. "We all are invited to different homes tonight and will pump them as to conditions they've lived under."
"What? You don't want to listen to Lord Dóvad push his lass at us?" Thorin teased.
The three looked abashed and Dwalin and Thorin exchanged confused looks.
"Well, ah lass with Nár's blood won't be chosen for one of us. King Thráin will look to either you, Dwalin or the lads," Nori stated quietly, while looking around for eavesdroppers.
"The ole cast within a cast system," Thorin replied sarcastically.
"I think Lióni is perfect for you, Thorin. I hereby bow out and leave her in your capable hand," Dwalin ribbed, while splashing water at Thorin.
"Makes me happy ta have been wed," Óin threw in, although his wife died in childbirth.
In response, Thorin dove at Dwalin and pushed him under and a water fight ensued while their intimate group of friends laughed and relaxed. Soon they stripped and joined their companions in water games for an hour.
Lióni stared in the mirror. Looking back was a skinny lass with light brown hair and large azure eyes in what she thought was a plain face. Her lips were on the thin side and her mouth too wide she thought. Her nose was too small for a dwarf and eyebrows not thick. No, she decided, no Durin would give her a second look. As she reached for a light blue gown, a knock sounded at her door. Calling, "Enter," she looked in the mirror to see her mother entering with a box in her hand.
"I think it is time for you to start wearing the jewels of our family," Lári stated and set the box on the vanity. Opening, she pulled a necklace made of diamonds and a large ruby in the center. "Your grandmother was wearing this when Smaug attacked. I wore it when I wed your father and now it is yours. Wear it tonight. I want to see if Thorin remembers it."
"I remember you wearing it for special occasions. Why now?"
Lári smiled into the mirror at her daughter. "We are going to my home where all titled dams and lasses necks are adorned thus. We would never be seen in public without displaying our status. The same will be expected of you. Remember the other night when Thorin told us our family wealth was waiting?"
Lióni nodded and her mother continued, "This necklace is pretty, but hardly the best we own. Mother and I went to the market that day and were near the main gate. This is what we would call average for Erebor royalty."
"But it is the most opulent here," Lióni returned with surprise. "Most necklaces only have one or two diamonds and those are for the wealthiest."
"Whenever a lass in Erebor gets wed, the king gifts her with a gold necklace with at least six gems. Of course, the lord's daughters are gifted with a necklace like this. Your grand…"
"I know, mother. I've heard the story many times," Lióni interrupted. "It was a gift when she married the son of Lord Nár."
Lári patted her shoulder. "I'll leave you to finish, and I like your hair tonight." She left and Lióni looked at the new coiffure. She lifted her hair in ringlets on her head, collected with combs with a few tendrils escaping to frame her face and neck. She would ask Thorin should he mention her new hairdo if elves always wore it that way.
"Please forgive my lords for making other plans this evening," Thorin stated as he entered Dóvad's home.
"You aren't the only one ta abandon us. Lord Skafid got ah messenger an hour ago an his city was invaded briefly."
Thorin threw a concerned look to Dwalin and then back. "What attacked?"
"A rogue band of Easterlings caught the door open an rushed inside, braving death ta steal food an ah dwarrowdam. The Stonefoots gave chase, but lost them. Skafid is taking his warriors and hoping a bout of fast riding will head them off before they make Rhûn Pass and disappear forever to the east. We looked for ye, but nary ah Durin or yer warriors were ta be found. He wished ta take his leave of ye personally, but time is crucial." He motioned for them to sit and had his servant bring mugs of ale.
Thorin sat, deep in thought; half listening to the platitudes he knew didn't have a grain of truth in them. "We were going that way, but I will look at the map tonight and plan an alternate route." He wasn't happy and wished to keep his group close to the mountain for safety. They could be overwhelmed on the plains, especially by Nazgûl riding fell beasts. He tried to remember if he mentioned them while talking to everyone here and decided that piece of information was still safe. He would remember to tell his lords and guards not to disclose it, but was sure they wouldn't.
Lióni entered and her father beamed with pride. "What's the occasion, lass?"
"No occasion. I am celebrating being within two matches of sparing as a warrior and not a novice."
"I think ye are beautiful, don't ye?" he turned to where Thorin and Dwalin were. They had moved to look at the map he kept on the wall and their backs were turned.
He patted his daughter's shoulder and moved to stand beside them.
Thorin had his finger along the track due west that scouted the north edge of the Sea of Rhûn. "If we take this route, we can get to safety the fastest in Mirkwood."
Dwalin nodded that he liked the plan. "Aye, we can camp in the woods at night an have fires."
"Also the weather should be better, not so cold, but the north winds will still be blowing in the plains. I'm not looking forward to facing them again," Thorin admitted. He glanced at Dóvad, "Have you taken this route recently?"
Dóvad looked at the map. "Not since the war. My caravans travel it in the summer months ta Rohan. We trade copper an silver ta them."
Thorin bit his tongue to keep from asking first about the ill-fated caravan attacked by the Nazgûl. He got lucky.
Dóvad pointed to a spot between the sea and Mirkwood. "It was there one of my caravans got attacked about three an a half years back. Shriekers took several of my dwarrow an killed all but four. It was the most I've lost since the war."
"Tell me about it," Thorin turned from the map as he requested. He went back to his spot and picked up his mug of ale, looking around and noticed the lass was gone.
Lári made her untimely entrance. "Supper is served."
They sat at the large table and Thorin asked, "Tóvad not joining us?" He kept his eyes from Lióni because he knew sometime in the distant past the dams in his childhood home told him staring was impolite.
"Please excuse him. He is readying our mounts. I plan on leaving Jötunheim in his hands unless ye think he should come."
"Find another lord. When families in the past came to Erebor for a possible wedding, the entire family came. Who knows, maybe someone will snap your daughter up." He threw a wink at the lass, and almost laughed aloud when she threw a glare back.
He took a bite and frowned.
Lári was waiting his reaction. "You don't like it, my lord?"
"I haven't had seafood since a job I did in the Havens a few years ago. It is quite delicious." He took another bite of scallops in a heavy sauce of goat milk and spices with bite sized chunks of potatoes and carrots mixed in.
Dwalin dug in with gusto. His travels took him to the coast often and he relished fresh meat from the sea. "Where does this come from?"
"Sea of Rhûn," Dóvad quickly replied. "The best time to fish is in the winter to get the meat here fresh. We place the fish in brine and eat all shell creatures. Our wagons arrived this afternoon."
"I want to speak with them," Thorin ordered. "Now back to your story."
The dams listened quietly while Dóvad resurrected the attack from what he was told by the survivors. Then he had an epiphany. "Does your commanding Lord Fræg to go with you have anything ta do with his prognostication about your father?"
Thorin looked puzzled, "My father?"
"I'm surprised ye didn't hear the murmurings behind yer back since ye arrived. Some are noising about that ye are here ta avenge his memory." Fræg made haste in searching him out and wanting to know why Thorin was ordering him to go with him to Erebor. He reasoned somehow Thorin knew and would make him pay. Dóvad told him to cooperate and reminded him he would be on the journey also.
"I spoke with a few warriors and they didn't say anything along those lines," Dwalin offered. He knew word of his drinking the night before most likely already reached the ears of Dóvad.
"When Fræg stated he saw in the fire the face of King Thráin an he was ruling Dol Guldur an alive, I almost had ah war on my hands. The Longbeards started fighting the Blacklocks an I had ta act fast. I ordered it never spoken aloud an banished those who returned with the story, an their families. I heard they went ta the Iron Hills. It took time, but harmony was restored."
"King Thorin," Risári's quiet voice caused all talking to cease and everyone looked at her. "When I heard what that lying healer implied about Thráin, I was stopped dragging Dóvad's Warhammer through the halls to the healing wing where I was going to bludgeon that worthless idiot. I would have hoped you never heard such vile accusations."
To his surprise, Thorin felt tears smart his eyes. Blinking, he tried to lighten the moment. "Who would dare stop you?"
Dóvad came to his own defense, "I took it. That way when I confronted my drunken healer, he knew I meant business. Also it sent ah message that the mother-in-law of the ranking lord had one willing ta stand for the honor of the Longbeards." He slapped his chest and Thorin nodded.
"You sure he was drunk?" Dwalin asked.
"That was his excuse. He issued ah retraction or would have joined the miners in exile."
Thorin had much to absorb and wished the evening to end. He stood and all rose with him. He turned to the dams, "Once again you have provided a feast I am unused to. That and to look upon such beauty after a life of depriving myself has made my decision to come here seem wise. What is the occasion, lass, that has you dressing for a party with your hair fixed up?" His eyes took in the necklace and he recognized Hónid's work.
With all eyes on her, she blushed. "No special event. I was in the library and saw this hairstyle in an elven book and wondered if I could recreate it. I may enjoy fighting, but I reserve the prerogative to be all dam."
He looked at the hair and noticed the color suited her completion and it was refreshing not to look upon the common ginger dwarves. He hoped his father didn't choose a ginger for him. "Most elleth wear their hair down and long. What did the caption say?"
"I'm not sure. I have the book in my bedchamber."
"I'll wait," Thorin replied and out of the corner of his eye saw Dwalin raise his eyebrows.
Soon she was back and handed it to him.
"Can you read this?" He held the book up so everyone could see the Sindar Cirth.
"No, I was intrigued with the drawings of the hairstyles and clothes," she confessed. "Nobody here can read it."
He handed it to Dwalin.
Dwalin looked at the cover. "Says here, 'Elleth of Ennor'. " He handed it back, happy he retained so much.
Thorin saw surprised written on the faces of all present. He motioned to Lióni, "Find the page."
She took it and thumbed through the pages where each seemed to have a painting of something. Stopping at a page, she stood beside the king and noticed how tall he was. She was taller than the average dam and he was a head taller than her.
Thorin looked at the page and then her hair. He looked back to the page. "Lady Celebrían on her wedding day. Lady Celebrían wore a pale blue gown of finest silk with embroidery of silver thread her father purchased from King Meneldil of Gondor, who had it delivered from the silver mines in the White Mountains mined by dwarves. I'm not sure on the next sentence, but it describes in detail the gown. She married Lord Elrond of Imladris on July 1 year TA 109. Her hair was designed by the elleth, Lady Maibia of the Havens who also is wed to Lord Taíban, Seneschal to Lord Círdan. The clips were made of silver and pearls and crafted in Khazad-dûm by Lord Mötsognir by order of King Durin IV. Her shoes were of soft doe hide and dyed the color of her gown." There were sketches of every item. He stopped reading and turned the page. His face reflected his surprise.
"What is it?" Dwalin asked.
Thorin held the book out so all could see the drawing.
"Ríllas," Dwalin read aloud. "I know that name."
"You should. Ahhh, never mind." He turned back to Lióni. "I would like to purchase this book for someone I know."
Lióni looked at her parents and then back to the king. "It's not mine, but was in our library. I'm not sure it has any worth, as nobody here can do more than look at the paintings." She overheard the lasses her age talking about that book and the strange looking elves and pretty clothes and hair pieces, so on the sly, not to be caught, she slipped into the library late one night and found the book. She was considered odd by her peers for her peculiar ways of preferring to fight than have gossip sessions with them.
Thorin fished a coin from his pocket and handed it to her. "Tell your keeper of the records, if he wishes to fight me for the book, I will be waiting." He looked around. "Good night."
When he and Dwalin left, she looked at the coin. "He gave me a gold coin."
Her grandmother reached for it. "I haven't seen one of these in a long spell. It's stamped: By Order of King Thrór and has his image on one side and the mountain on the other." She looked at Dóvad. "There is one only one place these are common as copper pennies are among men, and that is Erebor. Now do you believe him?" She handed the coin to him.
He looked and handed it to Lióni. "Orvid won't miss one dusty book nobody can read. Keep the coin an may it bring ye luck."