The night was half over and Thorin lay on his comfortable bed on his back staring into the dark. The room was illuminated by one dull glowing lamp turned down by his bed. Tonight, unbidden and unexpectedly he knew he was thawing. His thoughts flickered to Kili in his drugged mental state thawing for the elven lass and had much more sympathy for the young dwarf's plight. He liked the way her body moved in rhythm to his during dancing. More than once he wanted to pull her close and was grateful the tunes stayed lively. Maybe courting the lass wouldn't be so bad he decided and willed himself to sleep.
At the same time, Legolas sat before the dying bonfire alone. Outside paintings and drawings, he couldn't pull up one memory of his mother. Tonight, he only had eyes for her. For the first time, he felt the swansong in his fëa, beckoning him over the seas.
"Not one day passes that I don't miss her."
"I can now see why," Legolas answered, but didn't turn his head. "She was so beautiful and her laughter put the music to shame."
Thranduil sat in a chair nearby, but not too close. "The book couldn't describe the softness of her skin or velvet of lips I never wished to release. We stayed cloistered in her house for three weeks until Elrond came and threatened to leave us behind. He wanted to return to Imladris and oversee the harvests. I was tempted to tell him to depart without us, but knew I shouldn't leave my own kingdom for another year. We actually used part of our honeymoon to pack her belongings. I arranged for heavy items to be hauled by wagon the next spring. It was a hot August day when an army of just under three hundred warriors left the Havens."
"You've told me the story many times," Legolas interrupted. "Now I have faces to put with those whose names meant nothing to me."
"I sense your fëa is growing restless for those lands," Thranduil shrewdly spoke what Legolas wasn't yet sure about.
"It is just beginning," the younger elf admitted. "Tonight to be exact."
"Galadriel and Elrond have the call of the sea and they both say it grows ever stronger. Elrond is suffering visibly now. He looks older and his hairline is ever receding. The end is near for elves. Soon we will all either sail or fade."
Startled, Legolas whipped his head in the direction of his father. "Surely you won't choose nothing over seeing Naneth across the sea?"
"I will sail when my time comes." Thranduil put his son's mind at rest. He rose, "Try and rest, iôn-nín. Tomorrow I want you to take the tour of the dwarves. I cheated you from seeing the mountain last time we were gathered. It is wondrous to behold."
"I've been inside the mountain," Legolas grumbled. "I'll pass on being that close to any dwarf."
"I foresee you becoming very close to one of them."
"Not you too," Legolas raised his voice. "The lady said much the same. That will NEVER happen." He rose and stalked out of sight.
Looking after him, Thranduil spoke softly to the night air. "And I see myself growing closer to King Thráin. And I don't like it any better than you, but the Valar have spoken." He too went to spend time in his tent, drinking fine wine and listening to songs floating through camp.
"Are you coming to bed?"
"I don't know." Celeborn sat in a folding camp chair in their tent and watched his wife prepare for bed. "After all these centuries, I still grieve that I hurt you."
Galadriel slid underneath a silk sheet; all that was required on this hot summer night. She wasn't in the cool of the mountain where temperatures remained the same all months of the year. "And I still grieve I wasn't upfront with the kinslaying. Melethril-nín, we must learn to forgive and let the past remain buried."
"Show me how I hurt you and maybe I can release the guilt." Many times Celeborn asked her to allow him in and always she refused.
"It will take the Maiar to help us through those thoughts," she sagely advised.
"We have Mithrandir here. He is Maia," Celeborn countered.
"A lesser Maia for now," she reminded him. "Besides, he doesn't need our problems at this time. It's been thousands of years. We can wait until we sail and have proper support when we finally declare all that is between us."
Celeborn snarled, "I say tonight. I'm tired of you putting this off." He looked for anything to vent his frustrations on and saw her jewelry box. With force of a strong warrior, he picked it up and slammed it into the ground, watching in satisfaction as it splintered, spilling priceless items in the dirt. Without another glance in her direction, he stormed from the tent and stalked through the camp towards the mountain. He climbed into the night, his fëa raging against the world and the Valar in particular for having him fall in love with a princess he never felt worthy to bed.
Galadriel used Nenya to shroud her husband's angry fëa from all elves. Rising from their double cot, she carefully picked her jewels off the ground and blew dirt from surfaces as she placed them on a table. Looking at the ruined box; a gift from him over a thousand years prior on their four thousand and seventy-fifth anniversary, she felt rage akin to his that he would treat such a gift as the shirt he tossed carelessly in her face the day he declared their betrothal ended. She knew when he calmed down, he would be remorseful, but for now, she wanted to hurt him back. She donned a light nightgown and walked barefoot to the bonfire. There, she tossed the box into the flames and watched it be consumed, tears trailing down her cheeks.
"All these centuries and you two still have issues."
"I married a Moriquendi, what do you expect? I knew that ours wouldn't be an easy union when I caved to Melian's orders and took him back."
"But to lose a gift I know he spent months making can't hide your sorrow at destroying it."
Galadriel rounded on Círdan. "Then leave me to my pain."
"Goodnight, Galadriel." Círdan silently stepped into the dark. He knew the direction Celeborn ascended the mountain and almost went after him, until a voice said, "Celeborn is feeling the stress of camping so near the dwarves. He and Lady Galadriel will always find a way back to each other."
Círdan stopped his pondering and looked into the dark. "My dear, Mithrandir, I do believe you are correct. It's just I hate to see them at odds."
Gandalf stepped from around a tent that shrouded his appearance and into the starlight. "Maybe they should give each other memories of that painful time so they can heal. Fifty-five hundred years is a long time to wonder what each is hiding."
"If they do, can you help them?" As Círdan asked, they started towards the Celduin River in Sindar tongue and River Running by the dwarves.
Gandalf shrugged. "I have limited power to assist, but they don't need anyone except each other. After all these years together, they can weather any storm."
"How do we convince them that now is the time for total honesty?" Círdan asked softly so others didn't overhear.
Gandalf snorted. "I don't know, but it needs to be done before the end of the age."
"First order of business, King Thráin." Celeborn surprised everyone by beginning the meeting. It was after the lunch hour and tour the king gave to any willing elf and business of the realms once again took precedence.
Gandalf narrowed his eyes at the powerful elf lord. Celeborn had come back into camp at break of day under the watchful eyes of Círdan and him.
Catching the concern emanating off the wizard, Celeborn plowed on. "I wish Prince Thorin to skip these meetings."
That surprised all in the spacious tent of Lord Círdan and all heads swiveled towards Thorin.
Thorin met the gaze of the elf lord. "As second to the realm of dwarves, I have the right to be present." His deep voice rang loud and clear, daring anyone to dispute that right.
"You misunderstand me. I don't mean to impugn your rights as heir to the throne or its duties. My request is of a personal nature. You heard my wife state she will remain here until you wed. I suggest you forgo these dry, dull meetings and pursue the lass and get to the wedding so I can go home." He had been avoiding his wife and now kept his eyes from her.
There was a moment of silence then as one everyone in the tent roared with laughter.
Bard wiped his eyes. "Thorin, explain this to Lass Lióni. Tell her the courtship walks are out and she must wed you next week."
This set off another round of laughter and comments.
"Lad, the elf has a point," Balin choked out. "Wed the lass first and then court her."
"I'm not letting an elf direct my personal life," Thorin roared and laughter subsided. He glared at Celeborn. "I don't give one fig if you stay or leave. I will sit here until business is concluded and then take my time courting the lass. It may be mid-winter before I decided to wed her."
Thráin listened to both sides and in a commanding tone stated, "Thorin, Lord Celeborn is only concerned with his ladies, as you should be with yer lass. I think the request is reasonable, an although we made sport of his appeal, it stands. Please go an start courting the lass."
Thorin sat stunned, staring at his father. Finally he found his voice. "Since when do you take orders from the elves? They did something to your mind, didn't they?"
"Yes, my son; they showed me thinking with my brain instead of my fists is the way ta deal with them." Thráin made a motion. "We're not starting the meeting until ye are gone. In fact, I'm relieving ye from all duties until after the wedding."
Thorin slammed his fist down upon the table and rose. Without a word or look to anyone, he stormed from the tent.
"Ye owe me, Lord Celeborn," Thráin quietly reminded him.
Celeborn nodded he understood. "We can haggle over a fee; just so long as you have a daughter-in-law and I am on the road home by summers end."
Galadriel for her part, went on the tour and convincingly displayed an air of serene calm. Only those closest to her knew something was amiss. Now they knew the cause was Celeborn and most likely his disdain at being camped outside Erebor the cause. For now, the meeting took precedence and they focused on the task at hand.
Thorin slammed his chamber door with such a force, Dis and the other dams came running to see the cause. Seeing Thorin in a black mood, had them backpedaling to their own chambers just as quickly; all except his sister.
"And why aren't you with Father?" She demanded, hands on her hips.
"He doesn't need me," Thorin snarled through clinched teeth. "He relieved me of all duties until this blasted wedding is done. Tell the lass we will wed next week and get it done, so the blasted elves can leave."
"You don't mean that, Thorin." Dis was shocked.
"I do. Oh, hell, I'll tell the lass myself." He stormed from the family chambers, slamming the door just as hard on his way out.
"Mahal, what has Father done," Dis lamented and rushed off to spread the news of Thorin's impulsive actions.
Mif hustled as fast as her old joints would allow to the thundering at the door. "Another dragon better be inside the mountain for the impatience of whoever is outside our home," she grumbled aloud and threw back the heavy wooden door. She quickly genuflected into a deep curtsey when she saw the prince.
"I need to speak to Lass Lióni," Thorin rumbled in his deep tone.
"Without an escort?" Mif acted shocked.
"She can have her blasted parents present," he snapped. "Get them now."
"They aren't here, M'lord," she answered. "After the tour, they went shopping in the market."
Without a word, Thorin stormed from the chamber in the direction of the market.
He spotted them at a table selling jewelry and boxes to hold them. "I need to speak with you, lass." He barged right up to them, not heeding the crowd gathering to eavesdrop.
"Thorin," Lióni greeted cautiously. She was told he would be absent for the remainder of the week and to see him standing before her bode ill she decided.
Thorin took a deep breath. "Walk with me." He looked at her family. "You can be chaperones." Without waiting for a reply, he took the lasses elbow and directed her away from the market.
Murmuring started behind them and the massive cavern was abuzz with speculation.
He led them to the rampart and dismissed the guards. Glaring at Dóvad, he snapped an order. "Wait at this end and allow me some privacy."
He led Lióni to the far end and instead of paying her any mind, looked over the sea of elven tents. "I want those tents gone as soon as possible. The only way for that to happen is a wedding between you and me very soon." He drew his gaze from the canvas city to her. "I need to forgo the ritual courtship and wed you in less than two weeks. Can you make it happen?"
Lióni didn't know what to expect when the prince dragged her away, but this wasn't it. "I can make it happen in a few days, but why should I want to?" Her eyes started to burn with fire. "You are inconvenienced by the elves and Lady's Galadriel and Arwen's request to attend our wedding, aren't you?"
"I don't like being made sport of and you shouldn't either." Thorin changed his tact and softened his tone.
"I don't want a husband cold as stone on my wedding night," Lióni vetoed the idea.
"You have no guarantee I'll ever thaw at my age," he countered, an edge creeping back in his voice. "I assure you, I will be able to perform on my wedding night."
"Oh, I know your body can thaw, but what about your heart? I want your heart also."
Thorin's shoulders slumped slightly. "Give me time. All I'm asking for now is a rushed wedding so we can have the mountain for dwarves and privacy for us. Didn't you see how many elves were in the market today?"
Lióni had to concede he did have a point and even she was uncomfortable with so many tall elves dressed in armor browsing the tables.
"Your sister was telling me that her wedding was simple and small for a Durin due to extreme poverty. She wants her next wedding to make up for it in splendor and wealth. I wanted that for mine also….because I am marrying the Crown Prince and don't want rumors that you were too cheap to provide what your station requires."
"How old are you?" Thorin was amazed she negotiated like a lass nearer his sister's age.
"I should have wed ten years ago. I'm not one of the newly matured clique brought here. I'm ninety this year. My birthday is in late fall."
"That changes everything," he snarked sarcastically. "Makes me not feel so much like I'm robbing the cradle." He was alarmed at the change of color her eyes capable.
"I tell you what I'm willing to do to help your royal pain in the highness out. You will start to court me right now and if I'm convinced you are starting to thaw towards me; in two weeks we can plan a wedding, maybe sooner, depending on how often you court me and the affection you capable of displaying."
Thorin swallowed at her scathing tone and demands.
Lióni stared him in the eye. "The warriors are having tournaments for the elite guard positions. I would like to attend them. And word has reached my ears that the elves are also having a competition among the houses. I would also like to be escorted to that. Both start tomorrow. If I were you, I'd get the details."
Thorin turned and smashed his forehead against the stone wall. "My first stop will be to Thranduil to see if he reserved my room in his dungeon." He spoke to the wall, but she heard him plainly.
The fear she pushed him too far dissipated and she smiled. "I understand King Thranduil might let me be a guest in his halls while I wait for you to serve your sentence." She knew of no such offer, but did have a female understanding of how to manipulate a dwarrow.
Thorin spun back around. "I shall get the details and we will make a day of it. I'll have my sister provide appropriate chaperones, unless your family is suitable with you?"
Lióni glanced down the rampart where her family was staring at them with interest. "I would prefer other chaperones. If we are going to make the outings an all-day event, may I suggest younger chaperones?"
"Agreed," Thorin accepted and found himself looking forward to the events as well. He led her back to her family. "We will start our courtship walks first thing after breakfast tomorrow. Lady Dis will provide escorts appropriate for all day outings," he informed the family.
"Eager ta court my lass." Dóvad approved with his tone.
Thorin threw him another glare and addressed Lióni. "Until tomorrow."
They watched him fly down the stone steps and out of sight.
Elessar walked tiredly into the sea of tents after saying farewell to his companions. He and Bain walked as far as his turnoff and he waved to the older boy, who continued on foot to Dale. He was dirty and smelling of horse and starving. He picked up his pace when his nose caught a whiff of burnt meat. Mouth watering, he pushed into the tent that prepared food. A hand on his shoulder stopped his reaching for a plate. He looked up into the amused face of Elrohir.
"I would never be allowed to eat looking and smelling like you."
"But, El, I'm famished. We ate lunch hours ago and Stonehelm didn't bring enough to fill us," Elessar whined.
Elrohir guided him to a table where a bowl of water was already poured from a pitcher on the table. "Wash your face and hands at least."
Knowing arguing was useless; Elessar quickly splashed his face and rinsed his hands. He accepted the towel his big brother handed him. The boy looked around. "Why are you here instead of the family tent?"
"Why are you trying to eat with common soldiers instead of with your mother and Adar?" Elrohir countered.
Not having the experience to understand tables had been turned, Elessar answered. "I don't want to have to change my clothes before eating. I really am starved." He looked pitiful and remembered. "Why are you here?"
Elrohir shrugged. "I'm healed and tired of being told to lie down or take it easy. Here, I'm just another warrior." He smiled down at the boy. "I won't tell if you don't."
"Deal."
They grabbed plates and found a spot along a table and Elessar entertained him of all he did on the mountain that day with his new friends.
Gilraen noticed her son was still among the missing when the lords sat at a long table to dine. She motioned Erak to her side. "Please find out if the boys are back."
Erak nodded and before he could carry out his orders, Elrond answered. "Elessar is with Elrohir and hiding from us. Seems like we are smothering them and they are eating in a tent with some warriors."
Erestor frowned and rose. "I shall check on them."
"Relax, mellon-nín," Elrond advised. "Elrohir contacted me and said both are fine."
"And you trust him?" Erestor countered.
"No, but Glorfindel peeked inside and will be here momentarily. I do trust his judgement. And, knowing my iôn was on the verge of running away from home because we all coddled him too much, I sent him to keep an eye out for our wayward lad."
Erestor sat back down and gulped wine while Elrond smiled at him. He motioned for Erak to sit and eat with them.
At the far end of the table, Celeborn sat across from his wife. Neither had said one word to the other since he stormed off the night before. Acting as chaperone between them was Círdan, both figuratively and literally. Gandalf forgo eating with the dwarves and was seated beside Galadriel, while Thranduil braved the spot near Celeborn.
They were quiet and satiated their hunger before indulging in conversation. Thranduil broke the silence. "Celeborn and I were at the meeting between Glorfindel, Demythel and Vellon and the dwarves, Dáin Ironfoot, General Lötun and Lord Dwalin. King Bard was there to represent men. They hammered out a schedule so everyone could watch the contests. The elves will compete in the mornings and dwarves will use the same fields in the afternoons. Since the crowds will be large, the events will be held outside and at the amphitheater chiseled into the mountain. King Bard said outside him, he didn't have anyone overly skilled in fighting, but expects the entire town of Dale to be present and he is willing to compete against the dwarves with his bow."
Seeing that neither Celeborn nor Galadriel would jump into the conversation, Gandalf forced cheerfulness. "I am looking forward to the competitions. Are we awarding medals or anything to the winners?"
"Ironfoot said he would have medals made tonight for several places and the categories will be; for elves; spears, bows and swords, and dwarves will have bows, swords, Warhammers and jousting from the backs of boars," Thranduil replied and became aware only two were carrying the conversation. Come to think of it, Celeborn hadn't said more than a handful of words all day. He looked between him and Galadriel and smiled. "Tell us, Galadriel, do you know the winners so our bets will ensure we take much coin from the dwarves?"
Galadriel replied without looking at her husband. "I think elves need to be fleeced, so don't count on me spilling any secrets." She rose and departed the tent. She thought about returning to the one she shared with Celeborn and made a choice. Silently, she called. 'Arwen, come. We are moving back inside the mountain.'
Arwen had just finished her meal and conversing quietly with Elladan. "Daernaneth is summonsing me," she told him and departed.
She gathered a few items and joined her grandmother. "Are you telling Daeradar where we will be?"
"That Moriquendi might figure it out by morning. But I plan on a long soak in the bathing pools tonight."
"I'm so glad you called for me," Arwen happily replied. "I hope when we descend to the lower halls, the dams of Durin's household are there. I feel like I've missed so much and want to know all the details of their courtships."
"And that's where we will remain until the wedding," Galadriel promised. "I expect your daeradar will give up and ride to Thranduil's halls long before the wedding."
"Are you going to tell me and our servants about the fight you and Daeradar are having?" Arwen looked behind her to where Azthêla and Bethíel were following at a respectful distance so not to overhear. They were the only two ladies in waiting silently summonsed to attend their lady's in the mountain.
"Maybe I'll regale you with another story instead," Galadriel hinted.
"I would love one," Arwen excitedly replied and they both nodded to the dwarven guards as they entered the mountain.
It wasn't long before a Durin rushed to greet them. "May I be of assistance?" Dori asked.
"We would like our old rooms if available," Galadriel answered.
"Of course. Allow me to be your escort." Dori looked at the elven servants carting large bags and motioned for dwarven servants to relieve them.
At their rooms, Dori inquired, "Would you ladies like to dine with King Thráin for breakfast?"
"Yes, thank you." Galadriel answered and allowed Bethíel to shut the door.
Dori rushed off to inform the king.