Chapter 56

The Iron Hills: Smoke and Mirrors

As deep underground as they were there was no change in light to tell when the night ended and the day began. As it happened, a change in light was unneeded; Thráin's biological clock was impeccable.

Kate was woken when a small meteorite landed at the foot of the bed and jolted both her husband and herself into very abrupt wakefulness.

'Morning, amad! Morning, adad!'

Kate blinked the sleep from her eyes. Thorin, ahead of her by about five seconds, was already sitting up.

'Good morning, my lad,' he said. 'Where's your brother?'

'Sleeping!'

Wish I was that lucky. Kate loved her children, but they wreaked havoc on one's sleep schedule. Still, after such a sudden awakening, there was no way she'd be able to sleep again. Besides, now that she was awake, there were the conclusions of last night to work through.

She had slept, which was more than could be said for Thorin. He bore it well, but Kate was familiar with the signs of a night spent brooding rather than sleeping. He took Dáin's attitude as the betrayal that it was, and he felt such things deeply. For Kate the element of betrayal was absent. She had known where she stood with Dáin Ironfoot since the day she met him: he did not like her and she did not like him. No surprises there. Only the depth of his disdain was news to her.

Talk at the breakfast table unsurprisingly was a detailed analysis of the night before. Thora made sure to keep the boys busy so that the rest of the adults could share their findings and determine the course to pursue accordingly.

Ori had spent most of his night either listening quietly or dancing with his wife. From all that listening he had surmised that Dáin was a popular Lord. Under his leadership the Iron Hills had grown prosperous and peaceful. There had been little need to go to war – and Dáin apparently selectively chose which fights to attend, Kate thought sarcastically – and so the wealth and the population had grown significantly. People credited Dáin with these things.

Small wonder Dáin likes to flaunt his wealth. It's how he reminds everyone what his leadership has brought them.

'Aye, by cowering behind his walls while others did the work,' Dwalin growled.

Hear, hear.

'Be that as it may,' said Ori, pushing his glasses back on his nose, 'that they are fond of Dáin does not mean they are not well-disposed towards us. I've been told by many that the reclamation of Erebor is regarded as good for our people. There is much admiration for those of us who undertook the quest.'

'Not by all,' Fíli muttered darkly. He took a fortifying gulp of tea. 'I've spoken to some of the nobles last night and it was all velvety words and poisonous stares. Had I been dirt beneath their boots they would have treated me with more regard.'

Kate frowned. 'They were openly rude?'

'In a way that they thought I would not notice.' Fíli's voice was grim. 'And then they laughed among themselves. To them, we are something less.'

'Not proper dwarvish,' Dwalin nodded. 'They think we've forgotten how to do things the proper way, what with Thorin favouring the lowborn, marrying Kate and disregarding any form of correction.'

'Correction?' Fíli was on his feet. 'They forget their oaths and they mean to correct us?'

'It's worse than that: they mean to "correct" the succession as well,' Kate said.

'I know you suspected it, but are we sure?' Fíli asked.

'Dáin confirmed it himself.' Thorin did not speak loudly, but everyone heard him. 'He claims that we have forgotten the ways of our people. He questioned the wisdom of my decision to have a "half-breed" follow me on the throne.'

No one quite knew what to do with that, so silence fell.

A cold shiver went down Kate's spine. She had known that it was bad. She had known that it was very bad. She might have guessed even last night just how bad it was by how taciturn Thorin had been, but in her exhaustion she had missed the signs.

Maker be good.

She could just imagine what it must have done to Thorin to have Dáin allude to madness, the kind of blow that it had struck. She reached for his hand under the table. He took it as if his life depended on it.

Maker be good.

Glóin was the first to find his tongue again; he erupted in righteous indignation: 'He dared to speak in that way? You ought to strip him of his position!'

Tempting, but not actually helpful if they wanted to remain on somewhat amicable terms with the people of the Iron Hills, as Ori pointed out. 'I would not be at all surprised if these people wished for a response such as this in public. With as loved as Dáin is, his people would turn against us. We have to mind our words beyond these walls.'

Smoke and mirrors, Kate thought. Do we need to fear the cloak and dagger as well?

'It's what they do,' she said. 'The needling, the provocations. They want to make us look bad.'

'A broken nose or two will make them look bad,' said Glóin under his breath, but he took a deep breath and nodded.

'They can't make Thorin change the succession,' Fíli said, shaking his head. 'They don't have the right. Law and custom dictate that the throne passes from father to his eldest son. There is no precedent for matters being settled otherwise when a king had living offspring.'

That was true, but: 'They'll either try to dismiss the lads because they are only half-dwarf, or they'll go straight to the source and try to find grounds to have our marriage declared invalid.' Dáin had after all promised not to bodily harm Kate and her children. He had never promised to cease his efforts to have himself declared heir to the throne. 'I'd bet that the law has some provision built in to prevent bastards claiming the throne.'

No one said that Dáin would not dare. They all knew better.

'They can't do that,' Dwalin said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement. 'Everything was signed and witnessed.'

Just the date on the documents was not entirely correct, but Kate was sure there was no way Dáin could find out about that; the company could be very tight-lipped when needed. There were no other irregularities with her marriage contract.

But that's not what he'll do. Thorin's remark had given her the missing piece of the puzzle. 'And probably invalid if he can prove one of the parties making the marriage was not in his right mind.'

Every face stared at her in blank shock. Kate wished she could be shocked, but she had already accepted that there were very few lows Dáin was not prepared to sink to. If he had hinted at it last night, she had to entertain the possibility that he was at least contemplating exploiting this angle.

'That would be low,' Dwalin growled. 'Treason even.'

'Not if he can prove himself in the right,' Kate pointed out. 'And he seems determined to do just that.'

'How does he ever think he will do that?' Fíli demanded. 'There's been no sign of madness! Dáin has nothing but rumours.'

Dáin had a great deal more than that unfortunately. Dáin had history on his side. He only had to point at Thorin's father and grandfather, make some points about some things running in families and then presenting his marriage to Kate as evidence. What dwarf would ever marry one of the race of Men after all?

Thorin had reached the same conclusion. 'The marriage itself,' he said. 'He said so last night.'

Which was clever, because it made his point almost impossible to refute. And Dáin knew it. He had effectively manoeuvred them into a corner before the game had even started. He would take whatever Thorin did or said as proof of mental instability, because he was still married to Kate.

And it got worse. 'And you played right into his hand when you told him to steer clear of me and the lads,' she pointed out.

We have given him all the ammunition he needs.

Her usual creative thinking when dealing with this kind of nasty political game couldn't make it past the cold wave of panic that threatened to drown her. She'd faced down nasties before. That wasn't the issue. But she had always done so standing on the firm foundation of her marriage. But now someone was trying to hack that foundation out from underneath her feet. And Dáin had swept in with a sneak attack that had demolished her defences before she could bring them to bear.

We should never have come here.

We should never have come here.

But they had come here. And as much as Thorin wished he could take his people and march straight back for Erebor, Dáin would use that to press his point. He would leave behind a viper's nest of betrayal, allowing it to grow in darkness, away from his gaze. If he left now, then one day he would find that Dáin could make his move.

And he would take everything that Thorin fought for.

Glóin's suggestion to brawl it out and teach these would-be traitors a lesson started to sound more tempting by the minute.

We should never have come here.

He resolved to deal with this – the matter of how he would do so required further thought – and then leave the Iron Hills behind for good. He would never set foot here again. His own kin had turned against him; their lands had become hostile ground.

The worry for what Dáin could do was still there, but it was overshadowed by rage. During the long hours he had lain awake it had begun to grow until there was hardly any room left for fear. Dáin's disobedience and disloyalty he knew too well already. So long as Dáin remained at a distance, he could ignore this. But now he sought to take everything from Thorin? He meant to take not just his throne from him, but his wife and sons as well? Dwarves had been cut off from their folk for less.

'Take heart,' he told Kate as they walked to the council chambers. 'We will resolve this to our satisfaction.'

She gave him a terse nod in response, but he read the fear in her eyes. In this world she had nothing that did not come from him. It made her position very fragile. Thorin was aware of that. He valued the bravery of the choice that she had made.

'I don't know what to do,' she confessed in a whisper. 'He's got us in a corner and he knows it.' Her grip on his hand was very tight.

It ought to alarm him that she did not know what to do, but in many ways this was his battle to fight. Only Thorin could prove his sanity. And Dáin was his kinsman, which made him Thorin's responsibility.

One he took seriously.

They arrived early. There wasn't any sign of the goblins in dwarvish skins Dáin called councillors. Only Dáin and his son – as well as the inevitable flock of guards – waited for them.

'Well met!' said Stonehelm. 'Have you slept well?'

Kate had forced her face back under her control and managed a pleasant smile. 'Quite well, thank you.'

'I always find I never appreciate a bed so well as after a long journey,' Stonehelm remarked, smiling in response. He seemed determined to keep the conversation friendly.

He was fighting a losing battle.

'Dáin, I would speak with you in private,' Thorin said. His kinsman may wish to play these elvish mind games, but Thorin fought his battles the dwarvish way: directly.

The directness took Dáin by surprise; his eyebrows jumped a few inches up. 'What good will that do?'

Thorin simply repeated himself: 'I would speak with you in private. Do not make me repeat myself again.'

He walked to the other side of the room, leaving it to Dáin to trot after him. He could not have his authority challenged again. Dáin may have forgotten his place, but Thorin had not.

Dáin did indeed follow, but with a face like thunder. 'There is no need for this,' he complained when they stopped in the farthest corner, out of earshot.

'There is every need for this.' He looked Dáin in the eyes. 'I know what you are doing.'

'Thorin…'

'It is not enough for you to try and steal my throne.' It was an effort to refrain from grabbing Dáin by the throat and squeezing the malice out of him. 'You would undo my marriage as well.'

'It should never have been done in the first place.' It was telling that he never tried to deny it. 'Is it not my duty as your kin to right this wrong?'

'It is not your business at all.' Where had he ever got that idea?

'It is when you place the crown on the head of a mannish girl,' Dáin snarled.

'The right of where to bestow that crown is mine.' He had earned that right. 'It is not yours. It never was. Kate earned the crown when she joined my quest. She came with me when nothing was yet won, she took the same risk as all in my company did, she was with us when we faced the dragon and defeated him. Should I judge her less worthy than you? You, who cowered in your safe lands, behind your thick walls, ignoring your oaths! What right you had to be heard, you forfeit it when you let your cowardice get the better of you!'

He had not spoken loudly. He had not raised his voice. Yet the words hung in the air between them. Dáin staggered back as if he had been punched. His mouth hung open in shock, but his eyes showed only anger and, for a brief moment, pure terror. Not denial.

Maker save us, it is true.

Dwalin had voiced the idea before, always in private, and Thorin knew Kate agreed with him. Thorin had always dismissed it, because cowardice was almost unheard of among their people, regarded as much as a mental defect as the dragon sickness, a twisting of the core values of their people. He'd never liked Dáin, but he had seen him fight. He had fought at Azanulbizar and the Battle of the Five Armies with skill and courage. It could not be denied.

But he turned from the gates of Khazad-dûm in fear of what dwells there, he thought. He did the same with the dragon.

At last Dwalin's theory rang true: 'Dáin fights only the battles he knows he can win.'

'Maker save us,' he said, barking out a laugh, though feeling no true mirth. 'You seek to question my mind when your own is tainted? You dare to do that?'

Dáin did not speak, but he was frightened now. His secret is out. He fears the consequences. Thorin held his gaze. He could not tell what it was what Dáin saw there, but it could not be encouraging; he paled.

'I have seen more courage in a small, peace-loving halfling than there is in you.' His anger had turned to contempt. 'I would not see such a one on the throne of Erebor.'

Especially not considering the times still to come. Gandalf may have forbidden Kate from speaking of her knowledge, but she had no secrets from him. And according to her, when those dire times came, Dáin would act true to his character; delaying, dragging his feet, cowering, committing to nothing until the war came to him.

All Dáin's bluster abandoned him. 'What will you do?' he asked. 'If you expose this, you shall ruin me.'

If he hoped for sympathy, he hoped in vain. 'As you tried to do to me? Aye, is that what you mean?'

A bit of the fight returned. 'You do not see it yourself, Thorin! Do you truly not realise how strange it is what you have done?'

'Who else was I supposed to wed?' Thorin demanded. 'Would you have me wed a lass who'd done nothing to deserve such honour? Or would you have my line end with me so as to facilitate your own rise?'

The look on Dáin's face spoke volumes. 'Thorin…'

Thorin did not let him get any further: 'You have nothing but whispers and conjecture about me. None in Erebor believe it, many of your own folk do not seem to do so either. It is not the truth.'

Still he challenged that: 'Isn't it?'

Time to put a stop to that. 'Would that it had not come to this.' These tactics were more suited to elves than to dwarves. 'You will not speak of this again. You will not speak of madness, nor question the legitimacy of my marriage. You will never challenge the succession again. I will have your oath on that this very hour.'

'Or what?'

'Or I shall expose what I know of you to as many folk as I can find.' With anyone else, he would have hesitated. His skin crawled. Yet he recalled his wife's pale face, the despair that someone would use such underhand tactics to unmake her whole life, and he felt no remorse. Dáin would have his sons declared bastards. There was no coming back from that. 'If you seek to bring about my fall, I shall drag you down with me.'

'I am your kin!' Dáin protested.

Would that this still meant anything. 'Such considerations did not hold you back in plotting against me. You did not share your concerns with me. Rather you schemed behind my back and waited until I was on your home ground until you acted. Live with me and you shall know me, they say.' He scoffed. 'I reckon that's true enough.'

There was no shame to be found on Dáin's face, only anger and fear. It was not a fair sight to look on.

'Your oath, Dáin Ironfoot,' Thorin said. 'I will have it now.'

For a moment he thought that Dáin would resist, but he folded. He took Thorin's hand and swore: 'I swear to you, Thorin, son of Thráin, by Mahal that I shall cease the spreading of rumours, both about the madness and the legitimacy of your marriage. I shall respect the succession and in due course swear my allegiance to your chosen successor.'

It was short and contained nothing more than Thorin had stipulated. Resentment dripped from every word. It was a vow unwillingly given, but unwilling or not, it was binding. That was all Thorin cared about.

'Very well,' he said.

Dáin frowned. 'Shall you not swear in turn?'

'Aye,' said Thorin. 'When you have done all you can to ensure your nobles shall follow your good example in this.' He was in no mood to be charitable. 'When that is done, I shall swear not to reveal your cowardice.' Dáin flinched at the word. 'And then I shall make another vow as well. I shall swear never to visit your lands again, for they have proven to be hostile.'

Dáin's face was certainly a study in hostility. 'You do not know what you ask,' he said. 'This thing is not so easily stopped.'

'I know exactly what I ask,' Thorin said. 'And of whom I ask it. You began this foul plan. You sought to betray me, to stab me in the back. It was your doing. It shall be your task to bring an end to it as well.'

'I am not the only one who believes that your mind has failed you,' Dáin pointed out in a hiss. 'My people believe it. They question your conduct in many things. Aye, especially your marriage confirms those suspicions. I cannot change their minds for them, nor control what they may do or ask.'

Of course this would not be so easily solved. It was very rare indeed for something to proceed smoothly in his life. Perhaps he had hoped that he could put an end to this here and now, though he had not truly thought it likely, so his disappointment was not great.

'You were cunning enough to devise this betrayal,' Thorin growled. 'Put that cunning to use to undo it.'

'Or you shall not swear your oath?'

'Or I shall not swear my oath.'

What little esteem for Dáin had remained was now gone. He would scheme and backstab and seek his own elevation at the expense of his kin. But what mattered most to him was his own skin, his own reputation. When that was threatened, he would do what was necessary to save himself. How Thorin could ever have doubted that the Lord of the Iron Hills was a coward, he didn't know. Once one knew, it was evident in everything.

'You have your orders,' he said. 'Now see to it.'

He left his kinsman standing there. He turned on his heel, crossed the room and joined his own party. Kate gave him a subtle, questioning look. He nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

He would see an end to this farce.

There was no opportunity to ask Thorin what he had done, not in the present company, but Kate could see enough to know that somehow the tables had turned. Thorin looked grimly satisfied. Dáin on the other hand was both boiling with barely constrained fury and what very much looked like fear.

What can Thorin possibly have done to make someone like Dáin tremble like a leaf in the wind?

Her curiosity would have to wait, though. Dáin's councillors arrived, pleasantries – mostly insincere – were exchanged and then everyone sat down to business.

Which made Kate realise that it was perhaps a good thing Middle Earth did not have guns; by the time lunch came around she was about ready to blow her brains out. She thought council meetings in Erebor were maddening, but they had nothing, absolutely nothing, on the utter madness that was a meeting in the Iron Hills.

Every time anyone from the Erebor party said something, the lords of the Iron Hills disagreed as one. They criticised every point made, every suggestion put on the table. They made Thranduil look meek and biddable.

Running underneath all this was resentment, and an undercurrent of suspicion that only seemed to grow, no matter what they said. The dwarves of Dáin's council narrowed their eyes and frowned. They even muttered under their breaths with suspicious glances in the direction of the Erebor contingent.

It's as if we are confirming some theory of theirs. Thorin's alleged madness, she supposed, but how they confirmed that from Thorin's disagreement on the use of trade routes, that she could not discern.

It's like we're fighting shadows. It was nothing tangible enough for her to grasp.

Unsurprisingly, by the end of the morning she was fighting the mother of all headaches.

In all of this it stood out – at least to her – that Dáin had very little to say. He was there, rigid with disapproval, but he refrained from speech. He acknowledged words that were spoken to him, but he offered no views and insights of his own.

Which was not like him at all.

Kate hoped that the bustle of lunch – served in the council chambers to save them the walk to the dining hall and Dáin's elaborate setup there – would grant her the opportunity to exchange a few words with her husband, so she could find out what had happened that morning and what had changed Dáin from his obnoxious self into this taciturn dwarf.

The exchange would have to be brief; there were listening ears everywhere. It took some doing to shake off some lord who wanted to use lunchtime to bend her ear some more about why exactly he disagreed with every point she had made and would ever make. In the end, Ori hurried to her rescue by inserting himself in the conversation and bombarding the fellow in question with a barrage of questions, which distracted him long enough for Kate to make a quick getaway.

She found Thorin hiding behind some ornamental statue – roughly the size of Dáin's ego – with Dwalin fulfilling the part of lookout. A good thing she was on their side; he let her pass.

Since there was no time to lose, she got right to the point: 'What happened with Dáin?' He looks like you pissed all over his chips. But that was the kind of comment it would be wise not to utter here.

Thorin glanced around, but Dwalin had scowled all prospective eavesdroppers away. 'It seemed your suspicions about Dáin have been proven right,' he answered, giving first Dwalin, then Kate a very meaningful look.

Since Kate had many suspicions about Dáin – not least the strong suspicion that he had a massive stick up his arse – it took her some time to realise which one Thorin meant. But he was looking so intently at Dwalin and there was only one thing Dwalin suspected about Dáin that could not be mentioned explicitly in a setting like this.

'Oh.'

Dwalin got it at the same time she did; he nodded, not in the least surprised to have it confirmed that the Lord of the Iron Hills had proved to be a world-class coward.

And the stigma on cowardice is a hell of a lot worse than the stigma on madness. At least folk understood that madness was something one did not choose. Cowardice was a different story. That was letting fear triumph. It was considered giving in to emotions that should not be indulged. Ever. Courage was the norm, cowardice the crime.

The implications of this were huge. Dáin may have dressed his cowardice up in pretty words and would-be rational concerns, but it was cowardice. Nothing she had not already thought, but thinking and knowing were two vastly different things. It explained a lot too: his denial of aid for Thorin's quest, the way he had orchestrated this entire coup… Of course he had chosen to attempt it on his home ground, operating from the shadows, using his lords as patsies, attacking her marriage… Anything to avoid a direct confrontation he was not sure he could win.

And somehow Thorin had managed to get Dáin to admit it.

'Oh,' she said again. 'That changes things.'

Thorin nodded. 'Aye, it does.' Kate could tell he was angry still, but there was a hint of smug satisfaction there as well. As well it should; it was a feat worth celebrating. 'I have his oath that he shall cease his efforts to meddle in our marriage and the succession.'

This was the last time she underestimated her husband, Kate knew that much. 'What did you swear in return?'

'Nothing yet.' Curiouser and curiouser. 'He shall have to bring his lords to heel first.'

Sometimes people forgot that Thorin was by no means a fool. He hated the games of politics, but that did not mean he had failed to learn how to play. And he was playing for keeps.

Dwalin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. 'Doesn't look like he's hard at work on that.'

'He will,' Thorin said, contempt evident on his face. 'He fears what revelation of his vile secret will do. He shall go to great lengths to prevent the knowledge of it to be shared.'

Of course he would; he was a coward.

'That's what you'll swear if he complies,' Kate understood. 'To keep his secret.'

Part of her really wanted to throw caution to the wind, spread the knowledge and let Dáin face the dire consequences of his own actions. She was not a forgiving type of woman after all. Dáin had gone after her husband and her kids. She wanted him brought down as low as low could go. And then sit by with popcorn to enjoy the spectacle.

I am not a nice person.

Probably better that Thorin had handled this.

At least he understood duty and honour far better than she did. 'Aye,' he said, a little uncomfortable to be committing the undwarvish act of blackmail, but not uncomfortable enough not to do it. 'If he dismantles this plan in its entirely, I shall swear myself and mine,' he pointed out with emphasis, 'to secrecy concerning this. And the I shall also swear never to set foot in these cursed Hills again.'

And thank the Maker for that.

'Thank you,' she said softly. And those words felt woefully short of the depth of feeling that she truly wanted to communicate. This whole thing had been a nightmare from start to the probably still very distant finish. She had anticipated dealing with Dáin's treachery for the duration of this visit, but now Thorin had already taken care of him.

Thorin said nothing, but he took her hand and held it and that was communication too.

She breathed a little easier because of that. 'So, just his lords to worry about,' Kate said. Dáin had spoken very little during the meeting, which had proven the point that his councillors needed no incentive to be obstinate and obnoxious. Because Mahal forbid that this was going to be easy.

So much for a fun family road trip.

Kate fully intended to see if Dáin would do the heavy lifting there, but to step in if the need arose. Dáin might be motivated to sort this out now, but he would probably drag his heels out of resentment. They revised their strategy a little and then got to it.

Kate, now with Dwalin trailing in her wake, went off in search of food first. Skipping meals sounded like the sort of thing fainting heroines might do, but Kate had a job to do and there was not a chance she was going to do it on an empty stomach.

Not that she got the chance to get anywhere near food; Dáin waylaid her ten feet from the nearest buffet table.

Bollocks.

'Lord Dáin,' she acknowledged.

'I would speak with you,' Dáin said, not doing her the courtesy of addressing her by her title or even greeting her at all. Not just a coward, but a rude coward as well.

Kate was just about done with it. 'Must we?' she asked. 'I haven't even eaten yet.'

He glared at her. Before she knew about his cowardice, she might have done a step back, but they had something over him now. There was only so much he could do without breaking his oath. Not that his oaths have proven a very reliable thing in the past. This one, though, this one he'd honour.

'You value food over diplomacy?' he demanded, as if she was the one mentally deficient.

Kate managed to count to five before she decided that she couldn't be bothered after all. 'I value almost anything over conversing with you,' she remarked. 'You have made it very clear that you do not like me and that you'd happily stab me in the back the first chance you get. You tried to take my husband away from me, you tried to have my sons declared bastards, you have never missed an opportunity to scheme and plot and undermine us. Tell me again, why should I voluntarily spend any time with you?'

He ignored all those good points. 'Nevertheless I would speak with you.'

Oh, for Durin's sake! He's like a dog with a bone. 'Let me get some food first,' she said. 'And then you have two minutes.'

Dáin was on the verge of protesting, but a look from Dwalin made him think better of it. He settled for a look that could curdle milk instead.

Kate walked past him, filled up a plate and sat down in the nearest chair to eat. 'Your two minutes start now.'

'You know what your husband has done,' Dáin began. This was a statement, not a question.

'Yes, I do,' Kate said.

'Why?' he demanded.

'Probably because you engaged in treachery of the highest kind and it was necessary for us to put a stop to it.' What in the world was he after?

Dáin lowered his voice. 'You would see me destroyed,' he hissed.

Wouldn't that be lovely? 'Just taken down a few pegs,' Kate replied. She saw no reason to mince her words. The gloves had come off already. She saw him for what he was and his opinion of her could not sink any further anyway.

'Thorin did not make his oath,' Dáin said. He looked… uncomfortable.

So that's what has him so antsy. 'I know.'

'You hold sway with him,' Dáin stated. 'Too much, in truth.'

So he was coming to beg a favour. For someone who wanted something from her, he was being very rude about it. 'Thorin knows his own mind.' Just in case he had any ideas about citing madness again. 'He has made you a promise. He shall keep to his word.'

Frustration was very evident. 'You mistake your influence.'

'You mistake my willingness to make allowances for proven traitors,' Kate corrected. She felt the slightest bit pleased that he stepped back as if she had kicked him in the gut. 'And it is you who mistakes my influence, Lord Dáin. Even if I were inclined to intervene on your behalf, which you may note I am not, I cannot change Thorin's mind when it is made up. He wishes for you to make amends for the harm you have done before he promises anything to you. What trust you still had, you have forfeit when you plotted against him. It is for you to prove your loyalty before you may enjoy favour again.'

And she really shouldn't have to explain this. Dáin was not a bumbling novice at this game. He had played for high stakes, he had lost and was now trying to avoid the consequences like those only happened to lesser folk. Like the King under the Mountain that he had tried to screw over.

He scrutinised her. Kate tried to appear unbothered about that, but this dwarf made her skin crawl. 'You know that he is not in his right mind.'

'I know no such thing.' He should have seen the proof of that over and over again. 'As should you. You have never entertained the possibility that you yourself could have been wrong.' She met his gaze. 'Of course, what incentive had you to do that, when it is such a convenient excuse to use to achieve your own dreams for power? You seized that excuse, fuelled it with rumours and conjectures, and then forged it into a weapon to stab your own kinsman in the back. You committed treason, Lord Dáin. You appear to labour under the illusion that this is the kind of crime that can be committed without consequence.'

Dáin said nothing, but the volatile mixture of unadulterated hatred and deep terror was potent enough to be felt at a distance of six feet. He is beaten, Kate realised, but he is no less dangerous for it.

'Is that your final word?' he demanded.

'Yes,' said Kate. 'That is my final word. I shall not intervene for you.' She neglected to mention that he hadn't given her a reason to do that. Somehow she didn't think Dáin had ever engaged in the act of grovelling in his entire life.

And he was not about to break the habit of a lifetime today.

'I see,' he said.

Without saying another word, he turned around and stalked away.

'Well, lass, we haven't heard the last of this,' Dwalin observed.

No, thought Kate, we haven't.

Next time: there's a bit of a stalemate.

The next chapter won't be next week. I've got a very busy week ahead, so I won't have the time. The next chapter will be up on the 26th of June.

As always, reviews and requests are very welcome.

Until next time!