Thráin openly grinned down the table at Gandalf and the wizard knew he was withholding information. He took a drink of ale and raised it in a silent toast to the wizard just as the door was thrown open and the missing elves entered with Sigrid on the arm of Lord Glorfindel.

Breathing a great sigh of relief and heart pounding, Bard jumped up and snagged her to him in a bone crushing squeeze. Pulling back, he examined her from head to toe and then covered her brow and cheeks with kisses. Other than dirty spots on her dress, she looked hale. "Did they lay a hand on you?"

"Other than to bind and gag me, no, Da," she assured him.

He looked at the elves for confirmation and saw several nods.

"Excuse me, but I am to escort Princess Sigrid to her brother and sister for her meal." A polite dwarf stood at Bard's left elbow.

With one more quick hug, he released and turned back to the elves. "Thank you," he simply stated.

Thranduil, Celeborn and Glorfindel were led to Thráin's table, while the lesser lords sat with Taíban, Erak, Fili, Kili and assorted Durin's and Company. Another long table was for dwarven dams and lasses and preceded over by Aneht, Azie's mother.

Celeborn settled beside his wife and she slipped a perfectly manicured hand to his thigh and they linked fëas; hers searching for the minutest scratch. Across the table from him sat Princess Dis and he inwardly groaned of what two females most likely would discuss. 'Keep the chatter about weddings to a minimal.'

Galadriel withdrew her hand and smiled pleasantly at the dwarf, decked in a richly jeweled beard made from dark hair. "What is your duty in the courtship phase?"

Surprised the grandest of all elven ladies in Middle Earth deigned to speak with her, Dis carefully constructed her answer. Before she could reply, to her right, Dwalin groaned, "Not while I'm eating, Dis."

Her moment of anxiety ended and her blue eyes blazed. "I've never seen your appetite affected by conversation. I'm sure we could discuss your obnoxious eating habits, from the vile things you've been known to shove in your pie hole to the ring of crumbs left around the plate." She pointed to where a bean had already been shoved out of the way and ended on the table cloth. Convinced she put him in his place, turned back to the elven royalty across from her. She caught the quirk of a lip from the elf and ignored him as another disgusting warrior type that didn't think anything of regaling them with bloody battles while trying to dine.

Galadriel watched Dwalin grin openly and spear the bean with his fork and shove it in his mouth before focusing on the dam. She saw a look of adoration cross his face before he returned to his fare.

'Now you know why it is useless to interact with dwarves,' Celeborn silently raged at her.

Eavesdropping, Círdan interjected himself into the conversation, but not quietly, for Mithrandir's sake. "I for one am most interested in how the courtship phase for Thorin will progress."

Gandalf threw a grin at the scowling Celeborn, while Círdan smiled down at Dis, seated beside him.

"Please proceed, Princess Dis," Círdan quietly requested, so not to disturb another conversation between the next group that consisted of Elrond, two down from Dwalin and across from Fengel. They appeared to be in some sort of argument and he wished for more congenial conversation.

"The dams have traditionally led the courting phase and as head dam, I will choose each group to escort Thorin from our side of the family. I may even take a turn or two in the procession. I will figure which ones Thorin is agreeable to, so watch for me in the party."

"My mirror showed me who will be chosen." Galadriel decided share that bit of knowledge.

Dis looked pleased. "Then we shall see if your mirror is correct."

Galadriel liked her directness and a conversation ensued as they dined, while lurking servants kept wine and water glasses full. Plates were discretely replaced with each course and Círdan ignored Celeborn and quite enjoyed the company of the ladies.

They continued chatting politely about weddings of past generations; each imparting knowledge and Dis started relaxing around the beautiful elf. In the end, she invited both Galadriel and Arwen to attend a courtship walk. She was sure she was the first dwarf to ever extend such courtesy outside their race and hoped her father didn't forbid and make her look bad.

Fengel didn't bother to hide the rage in his tone while speaking to the great elven lord. "You mean to tell me if Lord Celeborn were to die, you would take control of my lands?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying," Elrond, without showing facial expression, replied. "Men are so short lived, whenever you take control, war inevitably breaks out every hundred years. Elves stabilize your lives." As Fengel showed rage, Elrond finally let disdain creep in.

Bard found himself tuning Elrond and Fengel out and listening to Glorfindel and Thranduil tell of the rescue.

Thranduil, as if bored, stated, "Sigrid was upon the back of a Warg when we caught up with the vile creatures deep in my forest. Elrond's twins and my son took point and cut a path through the middle of them."

"And, with my superior skills, it fell to me to place an arrow over the shoulder of your daughter and into the neck of the orc she was tied to. I allowed Celeborn the killing shot at the same time of the Warg. Lass Sigrid's feet didn't touch dirt before she was before me on Asfaloth and I undoing her bonds."

"Our forces found and killed all the orcs. We did keep one alive for interrogation," Thranduil continued as if Glorfindel hadn't interrupted. He noticed everyone from King Thráin to the person between them, Lord Dáin, listened raptly and liked to tell a good story, so continued while they ate.

Repast finished and desert and hot drinks consumed when Thráin jumped on his chair and motioned for a guard to blow his horn. Talk immediately ceased and he smiled around the room. "I want ta thank everyone for coming and have ah wee bit of business that concerns dwarves an elves, but should prove ah fair amount of entertainment for our human guests; so please bear with me for ah bit."

He looked around and saw another servant waiting and nodded. The dwarf gave a quick hand signal, which made Thráin smile widely. Turning back, he focused on Lord Círdan. "Your wine an ale is delivered ta yer camp an all the gold we owe packed an waiting for me ta personally hand it over before ye leave. Also, I added ah hundred pounds of rare gems as ah bonus."

"You didn't give me and Celeborn gems," Thranduil howled in protest, while everyone laughed.

Thráin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Are ye forgettin so soon, the starlight gems of Lasgalen?"

Again the room guffawed at Thranduil's expense.

"You owed them to me. You didn't give me a hundred pounds out of the goodness of your tiny dwarven heart," Thranduil stated his rational.

"Unlike Lord Círdan, ye didn't provide your army or copious amounts of food," Thráin reminded him and this time the room remained silent, each who was old enough to remember, reflecting on those dark days.

Thranduil shrugged his acceptance.

Thráin looked at Elrond next. "Yer barrels are likewise delivered an I better not hear one word of protest that we shorted ye."

Elrond glared back. "Now I will personally send Glorfindel to recount. Can't trust dwarves."

Thráin grinned, hoping for that answer. He added five barrels of wine for Elrond fighting and another bag of gold weighing fifty pounds for when Elrond departed. He did likewise for Celeborn, but decided to let both lords discover his generosity for themselves.

"Next on my agenda is for the lords with lasses. I know each of ye expects yer lass will win Thorin's hand an I assure ye; I have more Durin's an fine lord's here that are seeking wives. Yer daughters won't go away empty handed." He motioned for another servant, who appeared, holding a stoneware jar. "Inside are the names of our lasses. Each name Lady Dis draws will be the order they take their courting walk with Thorin. We will draw in the morning all names so ye know yer order. Courtship walks start right after that with the first name an how long Thorin deems fit. Thorin will then tell me two or three he has settled on ta have ah second walk. That will continue until Thorin has made his choice. The rest will be paired with other Durin's or lord's. Dis is in charge of all courting. . . .except her own that is."

There were confused murmurings among the dwarves and much interest from the elves, humans and Gandalf.

Gandalf hoped what Thráin was planning wouldn't start a civil war in the mountain and decided he would stay as long as needed to right the blunderings of the dwarves.

"After my return from captivity, I learned the sad fate of Dis' fading bond."

Dis covered her face with her napkin in shame, face burning red in humiliation. How dare he expose her secret shame like this? Now the entire mountain would whisper behind her back and she could never show her face again. Maybe she would run away, she decided.

"Daughter, look at me," Thráin commanded kindly.

Dis lowered her napkin and all at the table could see tears in her bright blue eyes.

"Hundreds of years ago, ah Durin dam married ah lord an he was killed when the dwarves fled Moria. She was left with three young dwarflings an her bond faded, like yours. King Náin I was her brother. In the chaos of Durin's Bane, she was mostly forgotten an quietly allowed ta remarry an had ah son. That son had subsequent sons until the son, Dwili, was born. I believe Mahal did this ta ye for ah reason. So ye can wed yer true love an have more dwarflings, an who knows, maybe ah dwarfling will once again provide crucial bloodlines. We can't know the mind of Mahal, but don't be ashamed of the gift he gave ye, daughter." Thráin looked at Dwalin. "I hereby grant ye leave ta court my daughter, Lord Dwalin. Ye will follow the courtship rules."

Dwalin's eyes were large and he cast a glanced sideways. "Aye, King Thráin. I accept and ask my brother to be in the courtship procession."

There was silence for the space of two heartbeats while dwarves absorbed this most unusual request, and then they laughed and shouted insults at the king's advisor; most calling him a dam wannabe or dam in disguise.

Balin, sitting between Fengel and Erestor, jumped up on his chair and raised his hands. When joviality died down, he issued his reply. "I hereby accept the honor my brother entrusted with me. What dam do I take my lead from?"

"None other than Lady Aneht," Thráin decreed and saw it pleased the old dam and figured any ruffled feathers were now smoothed over. "Lady Aneht, ye will be in charge of Dis' courting." He sighed dramatically. "The things ah king has ta do."

Again the room laughed and it pleased him elves and men joined in.

Dis felt a hand search for hers under the table and looked into Dwalin's caring gaze. She leaned over and whispered, but it carried clearly to the elves. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"Nay, Dis. I had ah secret desire your bond would fade and Mahal answered my prayers." He spoke softly and all elves at the table heard his declaration.

"You could wed a virgin," she protested.

Dwalin actually grinned at that. "I need ah woman of the world to teach me at my advanced years. You realize ye are getting ah virgin?"

Dis' cheeks over her beard flamed red. "I forgot momentarily, or you would be bonded."

"Lord Aulë made a mess of us in trying to recreate his own version of elves," Dwalin lamented and not too softly.

They turned back to the king and elves conversed silently at what they heard.

"Before I finish with my announcements, Gandalf looks like he has something ta say," Thráin called out. With a flourish, he turned the floor over to the wizard.

Gandalf stood and looked around the room. "Since we are all here, I want to congratulate men, elves and dwarves on the most successful campaign I've rarely seen in uniting against a common enemy. I trust this newfound comradery will continue until Sauron is driven from Middle Earth and the ring destroyed." He looked around at the sober faces and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I want to be first to congratulate Princess Dis and Lord Dwalin." He smiled kindly and reached a hand across Círdan and Dis and shook with Dwalin. He looked back to Thráin. "I have one more piece of business that has been sidelined what with our little skirmish and integration of dwarves in the mountain." He reached in his pocket and pulled a letter. Rounding the table, he handed it to Elrond. "Celeborn gave this to me in Lothlórien for when I was to meet you at Imladris. It is a letter from King Fengel's son, Thengel.

Elrond took it and placed it in his own robe.

'King Fengel will want to know what it says,' Erestor silently reminded him.

'I'll not give him the pleasure,' Elrond, just as swiftly responded and they both turned attention back to the speaker.

Gandalf sat and Thráin resumed. "I was regaled with the tale of Lass Sigrid's safe return by the elves over our meal. I want ta complement them on their veracity. I had my raven's flying an reporting as soon as it came ta my attention our neighbor suffered loss. They told the story just as my ravens did." He smiled at Thranduil and Glorfindel. "I assume you two only resort ta lying, cheating an stealing in business." He got his requisite laughter and mock outrage by the elven lords singled out.

Elrond stood. "I can vouch for them telling the truth and uprightness when recounting stories of war or hunting. You, however, King Thráin, nailed their personalities in trade." Once again the room burst out laughing while Elrond sat.

Thráin laughed with them and raised a hand. "I have one final announcement before we adjourn. Lord Dóvad's lad, ah young warrior of the tender age of ninety-three, has been cooling his heels in my dungeon since the night they arrived. Any attempts ta get the lad ta apologize for insulting the king an shaming his family have been met with scorn an challenge."

Thorin, hearing this for the first time, stood. "Father, let me teach the lad a lesson."

"Oh son, that is exactly what he wants. Ye saw through elven fëas the fight I had with that young Blacklock?"

Thorin nodded, molars grinding and anger on his face.

"The lad is no match for ah Durin, but he insists on trying his hand at taking one down. I suggested Gimli or Ori. He probably can beat Ori."

There was laughter among the Durin's and Ori called out he would fight.

Thráin called for silence. "Also, Lord Elrond sent word through Lord Erestor today that Thorin Stonehelm is ready ta be released tomorrow. I want ta thank the elves once again for superior healing of our injured. I could offer the lad, Thorin, for the match, but don't fancy ah beating by the dams."

Snickers were heard and threats from the dams sitting at another table.

"That leaves me no choice, but ta make our lads of age fight young Tóvad. Fili, I offered ye first an yer brother as backup, should he decide ye are too tough."

Fili stood from the secondary table. "I accept on behalf of Durin's," he shouted above a low din that arose.

"Let me fight him," Kili objected from a place near his brother. "It shouldn't be one of our best to teach Lord Dóvad's pup some manners."

Thráin sighed over laughter and his eyes met those of Lord Dóvad. "My first choices were young Thorin or Gimli."

Gimli perked up at the high honor the king bestowed upon him. He jumped up from his place beside Bain. "I'm not of majority, but can take him."

Thráin contemplated the proud, young future leaders with pride. "Ye make us proud, all of ye. Fili, the fight is yours to win or lose."

Fili grinned and his chest puffed out. "When is this fight to be held?"

"Right now." Thráin motioned for the door. "Anyone wishing ta watch the lads have ah go at each other, follow me. If not, thank ye for coming." He wasn't surprised to see everyone, including the human children escorted in his large group to the fighting arena.

Dóvad hurried down an empty hall where his son would be escorted and waited by the side door of the arena watching it fill up. He saw his wife in the reserved box for Durin's like before. He squinted, but couldn't make his daughter out amongst bearded lasses. In his gut, he knew his son would most likely lose, but was proud he didn't just roll over because of the Durin name.

Soon, all but a skeleton crew of guards, both for the elves, men of Dale and the mountain crowded into the large arena where Thráin fought Otsey and Dáin only days before.

Dwalin, careful not to walk too close to Dis, lest Aneht scold him, was surrounded by the Company and growled at their jesting. His threats of sparing in the ring didn't dampen their joy that Dwalin was courting the one he coveted for decades. He threw an arm around Fili's shoulders instead. "Nervous, Fili?"

"Excited, Father."

The progenitor nomenclature had everyone that heard, catcalling and laughing, while Dwalin slapped the back of Fili's head, causing him to laugh loudly.

Thorin found himself walking beside his sister. He pulled her close with an arm around her shoulders. "I swear I didn't know father was going to do that to you."

"By the time I'm seated word will have circled the arena faster than lightning. This morning during your speech, I was so proud. Now I feel like something stuck to the bottom of your boot," she quietly lamented and tears burned once again.

He squeezed tightly and then released. "Ori," Thorin raised his voice and motioned the youth to his side. "How did father know about King Náin's sister?"

Ori ducked his head. "Lord Erestor mentioned it to him one night and he asked me to find written record. I did and took it to him. There isn't much Lord Erestor doesn't know about dwarves. He knows more history than we have written. I'm writing a book on all he's told me, just in case it is missing from our halls."

Dioari moved her stout frame to walk beside her eldest, Dori. Her hair was silver and gown one made in the Blue Mountains. Her Erebor wardrobe had to be replaced for her figure maturing over the decades. "How come your brothers are avoiding me?" At his surprised look, she waved a dismissive hand. "Nori has ditched quality time since he could run away as a small lad, but Ori clung to my skirts and he has hardly spoken more than welcome to Erebor to me."

Dori, hugged her briefly. "Your littlest is growing up an finding his place, Ma. Give him space an he'll come back ta ye. He has many responsibilities now."

"I was hoping each of you would catch a lass," she confided and Dori expected that was her chief complaint, but it was easier to start with Ori.

"Well, after Thorin, I am second now that Dwalin is spoken for. Ya point ta the one ye want me ta pursue, an I'll have ye ah daughter-in-law by summer's end."

"You always did devil me," she smiled as she spoke. "Has Nori mended his thieving ways? Now that he is rich, he doesn't need to pursue what he always called his true trade."

Dori chuckled. "The elves got their property back an the king paid ah handsome fee also. Nori is instructed only ta pilfer in procuring evidence that might harm the mountain. He is ah floater an in charge of mines an procurement. He can show up anyplace an overhears much. He loves his new job." At the foot of the stairs to the Durin's box, he left her and joined the Durin clique.

Thráin stood in the center of the arena; the crown of golden ravens on his brow and a long black mink vest swept the floor. He stood proud as Dáin escorted Lord Dóvad and his son to him. Dóvad bowed respectfully and a general laughter rippled at the change in demeanor. Young Tóvad stood tall and proud. He didn't believe the story his father told of losing a fight to Prince Thorin, or that Otsey lost badly to this old coot because the king was just that much better than him. His hand itched to swing his Warhammer, but he restrained himself, for General's Dwalin and Lötun stood just behind him. Taking a swing at the king without permission was a death sentence.

"I see in your eyes, master Tóvad, a proud warrior, which in time will lead your clan with wisdom. That is if you don't succumb to my grandson Fili's weapons this evening."

Tóvad frowned. "I was under the impression that I got ta choose my opponent?" He wasn't giving this impostor king a respectful title. The longer he sat in his solitary cell, the more he was convinced this one served the evil one of Mordor and would take all dwarves to their doom.

"You are not experienced enough to fight my seasoned warriors at your age." Thráin's formal tone held remarkable patience. "I will give you an equal match and a surprise." He looked around the arena and raised his voice. "Before the lads spar, we have two lasses that fancy themselves warriors. One is our own Balin's daughter, Bát, an underage lass and the other is Lord Dóvad's daughter, lass Lióni. Tonight, and ONLY tonight, I will permit them to spar for your entertainment. After this, both will be constrained to the roles they were born into."

There was a deafening roar of approval with shouts, whistles and thunderous clapping at the news.

From his place among the elite elves, Legolas leaned over and whispered to the twins. "Dwarves are so primitive. Elves venerate our elleth and don't subjugate them to a lesser station."

The twin's smirked, but wisely remained silent.

Galadriel sent a mental warning to Legolas, but allowed all of the firstborn to hear. 'Legolas, if one in ten is born female among the elves; even I would be placed as Lúthien in a tree to be cherished and protected.'

'I mean no disrespect to females of any race,' Legolas objected, 'but the dwarves only value males and it shows.'

'No, pen neth, dwarves value females higher than elves and men do their women,' Galadriel reasoned back.

'So Kili would have cherished Tauriel?' Elladan asked.

Legolas snorted in disdain. 'He would have used her.'

'Enough bickering,' Círdan ordered the younger elves. Anyone watching the elves would only have seen stoic expressions.

Balin led his daughter from one entrance and Dori escorted Lióni until the lasses were with the dwarrow in the center of the arena. Both were sporting men's clothing and their own armor. Lighter weapons graced hands; a Warhammer in one and sword the other.

"The lass' will fight first, so everyone can see they would be worthy opponents should the need ever arise to put them in battle. Do you both know the rules of sparring?" Thráin inquired.

Both nodded, too nervous to speak. Neither had a clue the king arranged this meet just that morning with Balin, Dáin and Dwalin.

The dwarrow moved to the edge of the ring and the two lass' faced each other and took a fighting stance, Warhammers raised in salute.

Without warning, Lióni swung hard at Bát's side. The younger, less experienced lass tried first to parry and then jump aside, but indecision cost her a point.

"Point to Lióni," Balin roared. He could hardly watch and wondered who had been tutoring his youngest. If it was Dwalin, there would be hell to pay he vowed.

Angered to have lost a point, Bát, with swiftness of a Durin, pressed when most would have retreated. Caught off guard, Lióni heard Balin call point for Bát. Instead of following like maneuver, she danced back three steps and assessed her next move, looking for weakness. It was her first fight against a female and now she knew how hard it was because, like her, Bát didn't act like a raging dwarrow.

Bát saw a move and advanced, sword swinging so it had to be blocked. As expected, Lióni used her sword and it crossed her body leaving the side open.

Balin hollered, "Point for Bát."

Lióni desperately didn't want to lose to another Durin and a younger slip of a lass at that. She came back with all the strength she could weld with the Warhammer, driving the younger girl back.

"Point for Lióni," Balin yelled.

Knowing she hadn't been touched, Bát looked down. One foot was outside the ring. Stepping back in, she knew the next hit would either make or break her. She swung the Warhammer only to have it blocked and her shoulder jarred at the impact. Knowing she would look weak and foolish if she tried to heft it, she dropped the weapon and heard groans all around the chamber. Holding the lighter sword with both hands, she was determined not to retreat again.

Lióni knew the match was hers and advanced, deciding what weapon would make dwarven history. She decided the Warhammer was uniquely a dwarven weapon and swung at Bát's side in a wide arc.

Bát saw it coming and jumped back, once again not believing her good fortune for the arm was open. She slapped her sword against the chain mail and sparks flew. Everyone saw the hit and the place roared its delight one of their own and a Durin won the match.

Balin hollered out the winner, but his words were drowned out.

Dwalin forgot his anger and rushed to pick his niece up to his shoulder as the other Durin's gathered about to congratulate her and the chamber was on its feet.

Lióni stood alone in disbelief and wanted to cry, but warriors didn't spout tears when losing a bout. An arm circled her and she found her head on her father's shoulder.

"Ye fought very well, lass. It's not so easy going against ah Durin, is it?"

She shook her head and raised it proudly. Looking into her beloved father's eyes, she managed a watery smile. "I can't remember the last time I lost, but fighting another female made me want to win that much more."

Dóvad chuckled softly and led her to the winner. "And that's how dwarrow feel. They didn't really care if you won half as much as another dwarrow. They convinced themselves ye were allowed ta win."

"That hurts," she grumbled and forced a smile at the other lass. "Good match. It's too bad it is our one and only."

Bát reached out and hugged her. "Well, we had our moment and I will relish it forever. Come, let's get out of this hot mail and watch the next match." She looked for her father, who was talking to Dóvad about their incorrigible daughters. "Excuse me, Father, can you hold the match until we are presentable?"

"If you hurry," Balin gave his blessing.