Chapter Two
A/N Thank you for the favorites/follows everyone! If you are new to the story, please favorite/follow...I'll be posting a new chapter every Sunday.
Even after promising his King, Kili managed to avoid the evening's celebration by immersing himself in the work of guarding Erebor-even the least favorite parts. On his desk waited a pile of requisitions from his duty captains and if Kili knew one thing about being a commander, it was to make sure his dwarves had the tools and equipment they needed-and those things required funds, which required his approval. Couldn't give away the treasury, after all. So he sat, turned up the flame in his oil lamp, and read the first request.
First up: the North Slope Archers required manufacture of a new arrowhead design and Kili found himself instantly fascinated. His eyes roved the detailed drawing of the new broadhead, noting three off-set razor-sharp blades and the chiseled, piercing tip.
Perfect for a sharp-shooter, he realized, suddenly wishing he had time to test one himself. You've a whole stack of these to go through, he chided himself, setting it down and grabbing a quill. Unlike Fili's more elegant signature (of which even old Balin had approved,) Kili signed with a quick scrawl that more closely resembled a smith's chop-mark than a Prince's signature: four verticals like a claw mark with a jagged slash that finished the K.
Balin had always despaired of his penmanship, but Kili did not care. His eye found the line and his pen hit the mark. That was what mattered.
He had just signed several requisitions and approved the re-supply of the Iron Hills folk when he heard repeated calls of "Kharak! Alarm!" in the outer hall.
Kili was on his feet and through the door in a heartbeat, almost relieved to have something to attend.
"Report!" he demanded, finding a breathless cadet facing his clerks.
"Rock fall, my lord," the cadet said.
"Anyone hurt?"
"Not that we know."
"Where?"
"West of Ravenhill."
Kili frowned. That was solid granite. "Shearing?" The cadet was joined by a grim-faced captain who'd rushed in.
"No, my Lord. That rock did not fall on its own." He tilted his chin down to show his suspicions.
Kili raised an eyebrow. Erebor was a mountain. It was infused with strong dwarven magic, but it was a real mountain all the same. It was natural for stone to settle and for weather to shape it, and Kili, as Commander of the Guard, heard weather reports constantly. The day had been cold but not stone-breaking cold. He'd heard predictions of storm on the way, but it was a day or two off.
"Describe what you saw," Kili prompted, grabbing his gloves and starting down the corridor at a good pace, the captain and cadet scurrying to keep up.
"We were on the outpost northeast of the Cockscomb, sir…" the captain said.
Kili nodded. He knew that the rock formation well.
"The ravens were in an uproar-circling and screaming. Then my Lieutenant was pulling me back just as we saw something shoot away from the rock like a great dusty meteor...and then the outcropping just gave way."
"Just like that?" Kili asked.
"Just…" the captain made a shooting motion and then spread his hands. "As if someone shot a cork and then pulled the wrong cube out from under the puzzle stack."
Kili nodded. The image of the shot cork was a dead ringer for a blasting charge. Drill a hole, drop in the charge, and when it went off, a cloud of dust would shoot out just before the stone cracked and the rock slid.
And he knew for a fact that all exterior mining was on hold until after the treaty deliberations concluded and all the guests were gone.
And here we are, only on day one… He recalled the words from Brunsder of the Blue Mountains. Have a care, lad. Someone among the seven families is intent on disrupting the enclave.
"Did you see anyone in the area?" he asked.
The cadet looked ashamed, as if he'd been caught neglecting his duty. "No, sir."
Kili considered this. "If it had been set intentionally, someone might have set the charge much earlier and triggered it from a distance." Kili strode for the Hub, the great hollow heart of the mountain, lit with long lines of oil lamps that glowed like strings of golden orbs rising from the depths and ascending high overhead. He took one of the great staircases down to the gate level, using a few little-known shortcuts to dodge crowds of visitors-and there were hundreds of them out this evening, standing on the balconies and admiring the view of stone and light. "I see no dereliction," he reassured the lads. "I appreciate your observations."
The dwarves with him nodded and the cadet looked relieved.
"And there were ravens about?" Kili asked.
"Yes, my Lord," the captain said.
Kili frowned as he turned to lead them down a great stairway. The ravens would tell him what they knew and saw, but he would have to wait for daylight. Ravens were essential allies in the defense of Erebor, but they roosted at nightfall.
When he made it outside to the Cockscomb, lanterns showed him what he needed to see. Kili was enough of a stonesmith (having some of the affinity his Lady Mother had possessed when it came to stonework) to read the signs.
"That is not a shear zone," Kili declared. "This stone," he moved his lantern in a slow arc. "Would not have failed in this direction without help." He headed down a thin trail to the place where workers had already started clearing debris. He poked around, leaned close and motioned a lamp over, and plucked out a fist-sized stone with the unmistakable marks of blast grit.
He pocketed the stone and turned to help the workers, grabbing tools and driving a spike into just those points that would crack stone and break up the larger rocks, making the job of clearing the perimeter easier.
Two hours later he was satisfied that the job would be done by sunrise and he nodded his approval. By now, Fili would be wondering where he was...and while he was personally fine with missing a party, he really did not wish to disappoint his brother.
On the way back to his quarters, he made one stop at the miner's public hall to have a word with the Masterminer.
"Whatever are you up to on party night?" Bofur was his usual jovial self, surrounded by laughing and shouting miners well into their holiday feast.
"Rockfall that might have been intentionally set," Kili said in a low voice.
Bofur's eyes narrowed. "You have proof?"
Kili offered the stone he'd found.
Bofur held it up to examine it. "Blasting grit, all on this side," he said.
"My thinking exactly," Kili nodded, accepting a flagon from a serving lass. He and Bofur looked at each other but said no more.
"I've a mind to get a better look at sunrise," Kili said.
"I've a mind to join you," Bofur replied. Realizing that the lads around them were wide-eyed and expectant at the sight of their Masterminer and their Prince, Bofur raised his flagon. "To Erebor!" he cried.
"M'imnu Durin," Kili answered, holding his tankard high as well. "In Durin's name!" He downed his ale in one long drink, eliciting happy shouts, roars of approval, and calls for more...clearly making the lads glad of the blessing.
Half a bell later, Fili's pages found him there, with a demand from the King for his presence in the Royal Hall.
"Tell him I was working on a rock fall and I'll be there as soon as I clean up." One of the pages trotted off. The other stayed.
Kili gave the lad his best glower, but the page stood still. "My orders, Lord. To stay with you until you arrive in the Hall."
"Meddlesome, my brother is." But Kili capitulated and allowed the youngster to trail him to his private rooms. There he found his brother's junior chamberlains impatient to see him properly dressed.
"Lady An tells us she cannot convince her princely sons to courtly manners if their uncle ignores his appearances," the senior chamberlain stated.
Kili took the hint, bathed quickly, and presented himself to the chamberlains for dressing.
They were adjusting the fall of his cloak and the angle of his dress buckles when shouts once again erupted in the outer halls, shouts which included young angry voices.
Kili looked at the page in attendance and the lad vanished, reporting back a moment later.
"The Royal Princes, sir. Some sort of scrape with lads belonging to one of the visitors."
Kili considered whether to get involved, then heard the heart-rending frightened scream of a wee lassie—unmistakably Fili's youngest, his little daughter, Iri.
He broke upon a melee in the hall with a roar designed to startle everyone. Young Hannar stood protectively over his wailing little sister, while Fjalar and Gunnar double-teamed a pair of chubby older lads wearing Iron Hills colors, who were in turn backed by a pair of uncertain pages who clearly recognized Erebor's princes.
Kili quickly sized up that Fjalar was getting the upper hand, but Kili knew he couldn't let the lad continue. He waded in and the Iron Hills lads squeaked and backed away, hands up in surrender. Kili commandeered Fjalar and Gunnar each by the scruff of the neck before they could retaliate against the other lads, raising a cold eyebrow when Fjalar turned in a fit a temper and his fist raised before recognizing his Uncle Kili.
And then the lad's face paled and he deflated so quickly that Kili nearly laughed. He knew the young prince would stand up to chamberlains and pages but did not dare cross his Uncle.
Kili put his nephews on their feet, demanded apologies from all of them and threatened not only 500 lines from the schoolmaster, but 500 push-ups from the armsmaster as well.
"But Uncle. They hurt her. She's bleeding." Fjalar protested in a growl, looking up at him with a glower that reminded Kili not so much of his brother as of their uncle Thorin.
Kili picked up the sniffling lass, her arms clinging tight around his neck. He stood and asked for the details. The Iron Hills lads had been secreted into the Princes' playroom for fighting games, but when the excitement attracted the little princess, she had become a hostage. The Iron Hills lads had escaped into the halls with her and that had prompted all-out battle. A scrape on Iri's forehead attested to the roughness of the ensuing ambush and the accidental swipe to her head.
"I'll fetch a medic, My Lord," one the nervous pages offered, scampering off.
Kili had a clean handkerchief in his pocket and used it to dab her war wound.
"Head wounds always bleed the worst, sweetheart," he crooned. "I should know. I've had plenty." Where were her nannies? He knew the lads could evade the staff, but Iri getting past them was a new development.
Her sniffling changed from frightened child to the sort designed to wring more sympathy from her uncle. Still, it wrenched his heart and he tried to soothe her, aware of all three of his nephews still glaring at the silent Iron Hills lads, despite the round of enforced apologies. Hostilities, he realized, could break out again at any moment.
He didn't see the medic until he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He turned, expecting to see one of the studious young lads…but it was one of the healer matrons, an older lass. Kili struggled to recall her name. Hrae, Lady Wife of Var, he remembered. Hardy axehand, that fellow.
The healer concentrated on his niece's scrape. "Oh, sweetheart," she breathed. "You've got a bump." She deftly gathered the young lass into her arms and nodded for the pages to lead them into the royal children's quarters.
"I ducked, but I wasn't quick enough," he heard his niece begin to chatter. Hrae had little ones of her own, Kili recalled, seeing her toss her healer's braid over her shoulder.
And then his thoughts went instantly back to young healer lass he'd seen earlier riding in with the Ered Luin contingent...taller and less buxom than most, fresh-faced, and straight dark hair pulled back in a long braid. He recalled her sitting astride her pony and how she'd been alert to the ravens.
"My lord?" He turned to see one of the pages motioning him back to the chamberlains.
"Yes, of course," he said, aware of his duty. What was he thinking? And why recall that particular Ered Luin rider? He turned his mind back to the matter at hand.
Once the lads were sent back to their rooms and the chamber guards reinforced against further childish adventures, Kili returned to the royal chamberlains for one last check of his attire, and then excused himself with Fili's young page in tow.
He tried to focus on presenting his most amenable face to the revelries in the hall, but for some reason, his brain went right back to thinking about the fresh-faced young medic from Ered Luin, of all places. Did he know her? Was her family here? He couldn't recall a past introduction, but it was true that he didn't know everyone in Erebor any more. The population had swelled since the fall of the dark lord and was growing bigger every day.
But the lass was here now. He'd seen her arrive.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would have more than one question for Erebor's ravens.