Glorfindel effortlessly pushed through gathering men and women of Dale and it seemed the entire town was present, blocking easy access to the boys. With his Maia powers, he led the way to where Erak and Theigard were holding scraps of cloth over bleeding cuts on the heads of both boys.
Erak's Dúnedain intuition had him looking around and he spotted the elves and turned Elessar around, pulling the cloth away from a bloody contusion so Elrond could work his elven magic.
Elrond took a much cleaner handkerchief from an inner pocket and pressed it against the jagged cut that started flooding down Elessar's face as soon as pressure was released. "Head wounds always bleed profusely," he reassured the boy. His gaze shifted to the older lad and saw Bard examining his son while his own healer, Melcótte, took over and was administering healing.
Bard finally made it to his son's side and addressed the crowd. "Just some scrapes," he hollered and motioned for them to leave.
The crowd cleared leaving the elves and a few men wishing to know what happened.
Being the elder boy, Bain explained and gestured to the catapult.
"Would some of you men please move that back to where it was before some other bright boys think it would be fun to risk their lives and heads," Bard ordered. He looked back to Bain. "I can think of a much better place for a swing. We will build you kids one, but promise me you will never hang over the walls again." He kept his son's eyes with his own and finally Bain nodded.
"Okay, Da, I promise."
Elrond didn't detect a fractured skull on Elessar and did his own version of cautioning him. "I know you are now training with Glorfindel and played all your life with the twins, but you are a human child and not as swift or agile. Did you not look at the structure before swinging?"
Elessar, firmly held still by Erestor's hands on his shoulders keeping him from squirming answered. "No, I didn't think of it."
"Weren't you taught to exhibit caution around the falls?" Elrond threw another question out to keep Elessar's mind off his examining the scrapes and ugly bruise by pressing fingers against the tender area.
"That's different," Elessar objected and saw Elrond's lips twitch in a smirk that was gone just as fast.
'I've done all I can here without proper supplies. Glorfindel, bring the horses.' Done with orders and his examination of his foster son, he turned his attention to the other healer who rode to Dale with them. 'Melcótte, how is Bain?'
'He will have a headache unless we provide powders, but no permanent damage is done and he will heal without leaving so much as a scar.'
"King Bard," Elrond got the man's attention and the king moved to check Elessar's head out. "Do you wish your son to join mine in the healing tents tonight for observation?"
"I'm not spending the night in the healing tent," Elessar objected loudly, not caring he was talking to a high ranking elven lord.
Erestor's hands tightened on young shoulders. "Mind your manners," he quietly commanded in Sindarin.
"I'm not sick, just a little scuffed up," Elessar responded in kind and was humiliated being treated like a child in front of his new friend. It was bad enough Bain was three years his senior and he looked up to the older boy, his first human friend of near his age.
Bard and Bain marveled that one so young could easily speak two languages like he was born to them.
"What do you think is best for Bain?" Bard asked, drawing attention back to him.
"I would recommend the future king of Dale spend the night in our healing tents with one who acts suspiciously like two elves of my household, and if they are fine can resume exploring the area tomorrow. Of course, I expect you and Lord Theigard and your children to attend our feast tomorrow night."
"We are honored," Bard softly accepted. He looked at his son. "Bain, go with our elven friends. You will be sore tomorrow and they have healing powers we don't possess. Remember how sore and cold you were when we plunged into Long Lake?"
Bain, being older, nodded. "I don't ever want to be that cold again." He looked at Elessar. "Maybe we can tell stories to keep ourselves entertained."
Seeing he wasn't going to be alone and fussed over by his mother as if a baby, Elessar nodded. "Maybe we can get the cooks to bring food. I'm starving."
"Me too," a growing Bain agreed.
Both boys missed the smiles on the faces of all adults that heard. Hungry boys was a good sign.
Melcótte swung Bain onto his horse and landed behind him in the saddle with a slight jump while Elrond passed Elessar off to Glorfindel, so the Balrog slayer could have a private word with him on the short ride to Dale.
To their surprise, Fili was laying on a cot when they arrived, playing with his knife. At their youthful inquisitiveness, he snarled, "Because the king ordered me to come for elf treatments on my shoulder." He swung his feet over the edge and looked at their injuries. He motioned for them to share and they entertained him while being treated by the best healers outside Elrond the three houses brought with them.
Soon after the healers finished, a large silver tray was brought in and set on a table. Fili cringed at the thought of eating green food and decided he could wait until dining with the dwarves at Gróin's memorial that evening. To his shock, three plates held meat from some animal and lentils in what looked like a spicy sauce. He grabbed a rib and tore a mouthful off. He looked at his eating companions. "Lamb."
They dug in; the dwarven breakfast having long worn off all three of them.
"Are you two grounded in this tent?" Fili asked when his plate was clean.
Elessar looked around and saw only one healer in residence. "Master Elberion, can we leave?"
The healer from Elrond's realm looked serenely at them. Silently, he called for help. 'Lord Melcótte, the human boys are seeking freedom from this tent.'
'I'll be right there.' His towering presence less than a minute later had everyone looking up into his sober face. "Lord Fili, you are free to leave and I suggest you partake of the mineral pools in the mountain."
"You read my mind," Fili retorted, unaware that's exactly what happened. "I need to bathe for tonight's memorial anyway."
"Hey, can we go also?" Bain asked. "I've swam a few times in them and always feel so good afterwards."
Melcótte shook his head. "You are not dwarf and cannot swim after eating a large meal. You must wait a couple hours lest you cramp up."
"I can wait and take them with me," Fili offered. "I'll even have our guards escort them back here when I have to leave them."
Melcótte chocked back a disdainful reply. "I will have our guards accompany them and stand by. You need not bother King Thráin's guards."
Fili shrugged.
With a repast fueling his body, Thorin was ready to face the final three competitors. Arli and her escorts entered when a messenger told them Thorin was ready to resume. Thorin smirked when his Uncle Fárin strode in with them as a reminder who they were dealing with. "Are you joining the chaperones?" he teased.
"Now, my boy, before ye stands the next queen of Erebor, an I expect ye ta parade her through the market. Word has reached my ears that ye have yet ta do so, my nephew. It is customary, an I know ye are waiting for your One before making such ah statement."
Thorin stared without expression at his uncle and forced his molars not to grind and give what he was thinking away. Finally he shrugged. "I guess now is as good as time then to show what the White Mountains put forth as their hope for another queen."
Arli, beamed and eagerly awaited for him to offer his arm. When he did, she latched on possessively, eyes fluttering up at him. "This is where I'll spend the rest of my life; on your arm."
Thorin gazed into her eyes, his revealing nothing and abruptly led her from the room, down the main hall and through the marketplace.
"Aren't you going to show me the wares?" She wailed and tugged on his arm, but he marched forcefully on, half dragging her when she fell a step behind. Arli heard in detail all her life how King Thráin showed his intended many booths and they loitered in the market until he shyly presented Lis with a necklace he fashioned. She dreamed of a repeat and the kindness she would show those who worked in the markets and word would spread of her gentleness and superior manners. A queen they would say and the halls would ring with song and horns proclaiming a queen had been selected.
Her mother, Vali, felt like throwing something from off the tables at Thorin's back; anything to stop his dragging her daughter in such a disgraceful manner. She wanted her carefully groomed daughter to show these common dwarves charms. All too soon they were in a hallway leading to the kitchens.
Thorin slowed his pace along an extremely long line of barrels containing wine and ale for the common dwarves. The recycled barrels would be returned either to their own brewers or Thranduil's vintners. "I've had many walks with you, lass. If I were interested, you would know by now. Who else catches your eye?"
Her heart dropped into her shoes. "I was assured the position of queen would be mine, and by your own blood uncle. How can you betray him like this?" Her tone became shriller with each word, so their chaperones didn't strain to catch their conversation.
"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself." His tone was stern and countenance darker than she ever witnessed.
"If I can't have you, I'll return to the White Mountains. No Durin will force me into a wedding with them or another lord and make me stay here watching you parade another on your arm." She ended her wail and with a vengeful act of digging her nails sharply through his fabric, released and without a backwards glance, pushed through the chaperones to her mother and aunt. "He is an imbecile and I'll not have a dullard, nephew of our Lord Fárin or not. I'll not pretend to dote on the old fool for another minute. Did you know, he refused me to my face? He wants to know if I favor another. I'll return to the mountain and marry Dárin. He might be the least of Lord Fárin's three sons, but he is still available and not much older than I."
Galadriel smiled in delight. This lass was a possible threat to the throne and what her vision portrayed. She hadn't enjoyed herself such in a long while and it brought back memories of her own young love and the tempest her courtship wrought.
Thorin rubbed his sore arm and regretted not wearing chainmail under his tunic. He hoped the next one was gentler and then remembered it was Lióni and checked to see if his sword was present. He met the amused eyes of the tall golden haired elf and found himself smirking back at her when she caught him in the act of securing his weapon. He made a side trip to his chambers for a latrine break before tackling the next lass. Making his way through the inner hall to his father's chambers, he was surprised to find the king in residence and talking amicably with Lord Dóvad, Ladies Lári and her mother, Risári, while Lióni quietly took in the splendor afforded the king.
Thráin grinned widely at his son. "I've had several irate relatives waylay me. I take it the winner will be the only father not ta challenge me over your uncouth ways?"
Thorin glared and stomped heavy boots to Picket and snagged ale off a tray, which he downed in one sitting and not caring of his guests, belched loudly. Still taking umbrage with his laughing sire, he snapped, "I think Dwal…" he broke off when Thráin raised a hand in warning.
"Son, ye were taught manners, an Lass Lióni is waiting her turn. I will keep Lord Dóvad company while ye show her the sights. I'm sure ye can do better than gold mines, the front door and a hurried trip through the market. Oh, I don't believe any lass have ever been shown our ale barrels on a first walk. Ye didn't think I would get a full report from the fathers, mothers or worse, the grandmothers?"
"You failed to set rules of my walks," Thorin rejoined, but with a lighter tone. He knew songs would be sung of his paltry attempts to woo the lass's and was actually starting to see the humor in it. With his smile still in place, he offered his arm to Lióni.
Lióni studied him since he entered and twice saw him rub his right arm.
When she didn't latch on, Thorin raised his eyebrows. "I don't bite lass; at least not with a gaggle of females in company."
There was giggling amongst the dwarven ladies and human girls. Galadriel and Arwen silently nodded they approved of his humor.
Dis rose. "I'm chaperoning and so is Azie, so if you walk too far, I'll sick Dwalin on you. I suggest no further than the market and actually stop at a booth or two for goodness sake."
"I don't need my little sister planning my walk," Thorin argued back in his deep tone.
Thráin laughed joyfully. "I missed ye kids. Thorin, do what your sister says or Dáin will replace Dwalin skinning yer hide if Azie goes home sore an tired. She is carrying ah Durin after all, an probably ah miniature Dáin ta boot."
Thráin turned sober and before Thorin again offered his arm, added his news. "Lass Sigrid, word came from Dale that yer brother an young Elessar are involved in ah scrape of some kind. The meeting broke early so elves an yer father could attend them. If ye want ta leave now, I'll provide escort ta Dale. Or ye can finish following the last two lasses. I'm sure ye will be better entertained here."
Galadriel spoke with authority. "I have seen the incident. Both boys are now off the wall and back inside our healing tents being treated for bumps and scrapes by a bevy of elven healers with too much time on their hands and too little patients to care for. I will see elves guide them safely to Dale when we leave after the final walks."
Comforted with the update, Sigrid squeezed Tilda's shoulder and stated, "We will finish the walks then. It has been most interesting."
That settled, Thorin once again attempted to offer his arm to Lióni.
"Have all the swamp dwellers clung to that arm?" She gestured.
Thorin chuckled. "Actually you just gave an apt description." He offered his left arm and she took it.
They led another procession and this time Thorin actually stopped in the market at a booth selling knives. "How is business, Master Niping?"
"Best I've ever done, Prince Thorin. Perhaps I can sell the beautiful lass on yer arm this fine little item." He handed a small, pearl handled dagger to Thorin.
Thorin's experienced eye saw expert craftsmanship and he readily reached for it. "Where did it come from? I've only seen daggers like this in towns of men and elves along the coast." He handed the dagger to Lióni, conscious of the crowd pressing in to see the lass Thorin thought enough of to bring to the market. Talk raged all day around the prince and his escort duties.
"Aye, I was traveling fairs of men last year. There was a vendor near my booth whose family crafted these from shells they gathered from the sea floor. I traded ah small amount of Mithril an showed him how ta fashion it. Most dwarrow knives have already been sold, but I haven't been around dams until now an only bought one for that very reason."
Thorin watched Lióni heft the blade and check the balance like a pro. An unbidden flash of it strapped to a creamy thigh surged a flood of molten lava through his veins. He frowned at the unwanted feelings and Lióni took that to mean he wasn't interested in her and quickly handed the knife back to the vendor.
"Keep it for me," Thorin instructed. "I'm sure one of the lasses will be gifted with it," he vaguely added and taking Lióni's elbow escorted her to another booth that sported porcelain figurines, crafted in the White Mountains and brought by returning dwarves. He recognized the white sand used to form beautiful sculptures.
It was Lióni's first glimpse of something so delicate and breakable and she loved everything her eyes lit upon. So intent on looking at the items, she almost forgot her companion.
Thorin watched her enthrallment, eyes never leaving her face that was turned partially away from his. He saw the soft curve of her jaw and wondered if the skin was as soft to touch as to look upon. His trousers started tightening at the thought and molten fire shot into his groin. He was sure he would disgrace himself with a display of his own wares and turned into the table to hide the bump under his long tunic. Still he knew his neck and ears burned with visible fire.
There was a sign stating no touching, but Lióni so desperately wanted to feel the smooth glass surface. "I was here the other day and didn't see this booth." She spoke directly to the owner.
"Because this is my first day, lass," the purveyor informed her. "I had ta negotiate this fine spot with Lord Bofur an it wasn't until Lady Azie happened upon us, an her influence swayed his decision."
Thorin made a mental note to tease Dáin. "Pick one ye like, lass," he offered.
Lióni's shocked eyes flew to meet his. "That wouldn't be proper, Prince Thorin. I'm not officially spoken for yet."
He chuckled in his deep tone. "That coming from the lass who wants ta be ah warrior an hasn't given ah fig about proprieties until now."
Her cheeks flushed and ears burned, for it was the first time she ever heard him use dwarven argot and it made a slow burn in her core at his intimate suggestion she wasn't like other lasses and turned back to the trinkets. Her eyes kept returning to two swans with necks entwined. Slowly, she reached out and ran fingers over the smooth, glazed glass. It felt so fragile. She picked the piece up and looked at it from all angles. It would make a wonderful memorabilia of her time at Erebor for when she returned home. She could tell her grandchildren of the gift Prince Thorin bought her and her tale of being one of many to seek his favors. "As you said, Prince Thorin, I don't exactly follow acceptable protocol." She held the piece out for him to take and scrutinize.
Thorin signaled the amount and fished a coin from his pocket. "Wrap it up for the lady," he instructed.
The market was abuzz with speculation and word spread like the fire Smaug started in the trees with rumors this was the one.
Galadriel decided she and Arwen were going on a shopping spree before leaving Erebor, but now wasn't the time for personal shopping.
The proprietor handed the wrapped package to her. "It is called Forever Yours. No two are identical and hand crafted exclusively in the White Mountains. When all these are sold, no more will come until next season."
"Thank you," she simply said to Thorin. "You didn't have to buy me anything."
He smiled down at her. "It was my pleasure. You are the first lass not talking my ear off about your nonexistent charms or telling me how lucky I am to have you at my side, or just plain quaking in fear at my presence. Only one other I expect will act much like you."
She felt her heart sink. He already chose another. Tears smarted at his revelation and her eyes lowered to the package gripped tightly, so not to slip she told herself. "Have you enough of my company already?"
He observed her closely and knew he upset her, but was clueless how. "We can take in the rampart. I haven't taken anybody there yet." Again he offered his arm and led the procession from the market and up long steps to open air.
Lióni's eyes filled with wonder at the endless sea of white elven tents. She spotted their horses grazing among rocks where sprigs of grass grew now that Smaug's curse was lifted. "Thranduil's elk," she murmured and pointed to the magnificent beast grazing with the horses.
Thorin scowled at her. "You'd best avoid that pompous woodland sprite."
Lióni lifted her chin. "I'll see whomever I will, and besides he did me a favor."
"No wife of mine will associate with Thranduil," Thorin sneered, his father's exhortations on courting a distant memory.
In the background, the dams fidgeted and Galadriel's smile widened.
"Well then you have many dimwits to choose from who will follow your orders to the letter. Pick from among them and don't destroy my individuality with orders I would never follow." Her eyes flashed in ire and she was tempted to throw his gift at his head.
Thorin swallowed hard and glanced at his sister for advice. Her hand moved and he read, 'I like this one. Don't run her off with your pig headiness about Thranduil.'
He turned back to Lióni and in a kinder tone asked, "Tell me about you and Thranduil?"
"That is a tale for another day, Thorin. I've seen enough and wish to return to my parents."
Stunned by her dismissal, he once again whipped his head in the direction of his sister, eyes wide open in bewilderment.
Dis tried not to laugh and signaled he was on his own.
Thorin looked around for anything to keep the lass with him. He saw Roäc flying high above his domain. He placed a hand on Lióni's shoulder, fingers squeezing her softness. Ignoring blood rushing in his ears with longing, he pointed with his free hand. "That is king of all ravens." He mentally summonsed the large, black bird to him.
Lióni watched the bird descend, wings outstretched and gliding gracefully in a circle until it reached the carved stone balustrade. It folded blue, black wings once its feet found purchase on the stone and squawked several times.
Thorin smiled and reached into his pocket. "I am sorry for your losses, Roäc. We are working to end killing of ravens and the elves are here for that purpose also. All I have is a piece of jerky." He held it near the bird, who snatched it swiftly. With a bob of its head, it took flight in a straight line to Ravenhill. Thorin let his hand reluctantly drop. "Roäc greets you and doesn't like when pointy eared invaders come." He pointed to elven tents. "He is talking about the elves and last battle. He said every time elves come in numbers, his children die."
"They are very smart, aren't they?" Lióni marveled.
Thorin offered his left arm. "That's why they are our spies and messengers and have been since Durin I." He took her back to his father's chambers.
Dis took note her brother didn't just walk away from this one.
Before they reached Durin's Hall, Dóvad met them. "The king is meeting with an angry father over yer treatment of his lass." He looked at his female folk for signs of rage. Seeing none, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was actually having a good meeting with the king when heavy banging on the door ended their discussion.
"Which one?" Thorin asked, although he had his suspicions.
"That, my boy, ye'll find out soon enough." With a laugh, Dóvad led his ladies away.
Thorin led the procession of women into his father's domain. He wasn't surprised to find a red in the face Lord Yose and heard his shouting before he opened the heavy door. "I'll not take back my words, Yose," Thorin snarled first. "Surely, you've heard the rumors about your daughter?"
"A girl's romantic daydreaming, that's all it is," Yose wailed right back. "Even if ye don't want her, it is low of ye ta exclude all Durin's. Why she is willing ta wait ten years for the one she wants. I admit Fili is her age an been ah playmate all their lives. That should account for something."
Thráin considered what Yose complained to him in great detail. "Ye can wait for Kili. I'll let the lad wed in fifty years. I'm not guaranteeing an arrangement, but if there are more available lasses, ye can place yer daughter back in the running."
"I would gladly wait, however, I doubt the females of my family are so willing. Who else is available? An I want not one word of this spread about."
Thráin looked to Dis. "Daughter, I know ye are up on all available lads that would gladly wed ah lord's daughter."
"The one that comes to mind first, Father, is Lord Dóvad's son, Tóvad. He can take her far away to Jötunheim and we'll never see either of them again."
Thorin nodded at his sister, eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. "I like that plan. They deserve each other."
Yose looked miserable, but nodded. A future leader of the Blacklocks was better than her staying in the mountain and making mischief with Fili.
A knock ended their discussion and with a bow, Yose opened the door on his way out.
Lord Garad entered with a broad smile. "I see ye are getting the best last, Thorin."
Gerti followed with her mother and married cousin as chaperones.
Thorin didn't waste any time and grabbed her elbow and led her through the still open door.