Just a light-hearted piece for you this time, which combines three things: a young Thráin causing some trouble with the elves, Kate bringing elements of her own world into Middle Earth and a little something that I won't spoil for you just yet.

Enjoy!

Chapter 21

As You Like It

'No, you're lying,' he said. It certainly didn't help matters that this was said during one of those odd silences one sometimes has at a feast, making sure everyone heard a prince of Durin's line insult visiting royalty. Thráin of course misinterpreted the deafening silence that followed this all too true announcement and went on: 'He's lying, amad. He wrinkled his nose at you. I saw. Adad always wrinkles his nose when you're telling him to eat vegetables.' He considered that for a moment and then added: 'And when he's talking to elves, too.'

The Journal, Chapter 78: Wolves and Sheep

Erebor, autumn 2949 TA

It was hardly a secret that Thorin Oakenshield hated elves. He'd never even tried to conceal it; it was, in fact, common knowledge. As such it would hardly come as a surprise that he didn't want them in his Mountain, as his guests, which meant he had to be polite to them – 'As I recall, none of them bothered to be polite to us when we were their guests,' Kate had pointed out – and take care not to give any offence. And that was hard enough as it was. It was even worse when Thranduil himself came along. Thorin strongly suspected he did it just to spite him and his wife shared that opinion.

The elf king's latest visit was of course the reason why he was sitting on his throne waiting for Thranduil to actually arrive. Kate, next to him, was fidgeting as well.

'If he makes us late for dinner, all hell shall break loose,' she predicted. 'Don't come between a dwarf and his food.'

Dwalin, who coincidentally – or maybe not so coincidentally – was the guard on duty, snorted. 'I thought that was just true for hobbits?'

Thorin was not entirely sure when his best friend and his wife had struck up a friendship, but it must have happened sometime when he wasn't looking. It had probably happened sometime after Thráin had been born, but what had caused it remained a mystery. That wasn't to say that he wasn't very grateful for this particular development.

'Also for hobbits,' she amended. 'And hungry queens, so he'd better get a bloody move on.'

Of course, Thorin would look forward to the feast more if elves wouldn't have to be present. Personally, he thought feasting the elves on their arrival wasn't the wisest idea; it might give them the impression that he actually liked having them around.

It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that Thranduil had developed mind reading powers in the past few years, because the doors swung open to admit the elvish trade delegation and their king.

'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,' said Kate. It sounded like a quote of something or other, but none that Thorin was familiar with. She'd say things like that sometimes, like a joke that only she fully understood. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't be amused in the meantime.

As was Dwalin, who unsuccessfully tried to disguise his bark of laughter as a coughing fit. 'Where'd that one come from?'

'William Shakespeare,' she replied. 'A playwright from where I'm from, dead for centuries, but absolutely brilliant. My mum was something of an admirer, hence my knowledge.'

'Sounds like he knew what he was about,' Dwalin remarked, casting displeased glances in the direction of the slow moving delegation. Thorin strongly suspected they were doing it on purpose. 'Got any more of that wisdom for us while we wait?' The elves could probably hear that, but if they did, they didn't act on it by increasing their pace.

Kate thought for a moment, before turning to Dwalin with a would-be serious face. 'Sigh no more, my friend, sigh no more. Elves were deceivers ever. One foot in sea and one on shore, to one thing constant never.'

Thorin had never heard of William Shakespeare – ridiculous name – before today, but he would readily admit that for a man, he was in the possession of remarkable wisdom; he had never heard a better description of elves before. Still, there were no elves in this world of Kate's, so it was just as well possible that she had changed an existing text a little to suit her own purposes. Still, the fact remained that the unsteadfastness of elves could hardly have been better summarised.

Naturally, the elves did not seem to share this sentiment. Thranduil merely frowned before he remembered that this looked undignified, but the Lainor mosquito – the name was a find of Dwalin's – glared daggers, whilst trying to keep his mouth smiling.

'There's daggers in the elves' smiles,' said Kate. She was clearly starting to warm up to the idea of throwing more quotes around.

It offered Thorin at least a little distraction. He did not fully understand where these lines all came from and therefore he feared that the true meaning was often quite lost on him, but he was grateful for it all the same. She often told him that she wasn't around for the comic relief – another phrase that had come over with her from the place she called England – but he also strongly suspected that she did things like these on purpose from time to time. As she'd told him before the Battle of the Five Armies, she translated him for other people without them actually knowing what she was doing. It allowed him to keep his calm and stay his sword where otherwise he would have done something reckless. Not that he strictly speaking approved of her drawing all their fire towards her, but she seemed to gain some enjoyment out of it, so he allowed it to continue. And, truth be told, he doubted he could make her stop when she didn't want to be stopped.

And he had gone beyond the point where he denied that he needed a little distraction when dealing with Thranduil and his cronies. True, he needed all his concentration to see through the evening without incident, but he also needed to make sure he would not feel so vexed by the night's end that he would cause said incident himself.

Of course, there was also a chance he could rely on his own sons to do it for him.

Kate was not a fan of elves. The way she heard it, in the days before Erebor fell to Smaug, seeing elves under the Mountain was a rarity. Thranduil did not like dwarves and avoided them like the plague. But clearly something had changed in the time since, because this was the third time since Erebor had been reclaimed that Thranduil had personally dropped by for a visit. There had been that one time in 2945, then again two years past and here he was again. At least he hadn't even attempted to bring his pest of a nephew to the talks this time, so there was that. Kate strongly suspected he came by just to spite them, something she would not put past him at all.

Having said that, she counted the days until his departure. If they had any sort of luck at all, they would be gone within the week. If not, either Thorin or Kate herself would come up with an excuse to evict them. Or maybe Balin would come up with a slightly more diplomatic solution.

Either way, there was no way she was looking forward to these coming days. It was bad enough having to face them at the talks, but feasting them meant having to do small talk. It meant smiling and not letting her temper getting the best of her. It also meant pretending that she had a good time, even when she was having the exact opposite. And the only elf she wanted to talk to had been more or less abducted by Bofur and Bombur on arrival and was now in a remote corner of the hall, laughing and drinking with his ever-growing group of friends. Well, at least Elvaethor's enjoying himself. No use in both of us being miserable when we don't have to be.

'Looking forward to the night, then?' Dwalin must have seen the faces she pulled when she discovered that not only was Thranduil seated in her immediate vicinity, he had brought most of his retinue with him, leaving Thorin and her almost completely surrounded by unfriendly faces.

Well, if she could not rely on them to keep her in high spirits, it would seem she had to do the job herself. 'I think that hell is empty, and all the devils are here,' she said. Shakespeare at least knew what he was on about. And since none of the elves knew who he was, she could at least enjoy a private joke. Who knew, it might even keep Thorin a little entertained. From the looks of it, he needed it as much as she did.

And the same might be true for Dwalin, who didn't know much more about Shakespeare than the elves did, but who at least knew what she was doing. He had known her long enough to know when the words she spoke were not her own. And true, she might not get all the quotes exactly right, and some of them she got wrong on purpose because that suited her needs better. And if she was going to have to be here for hours to come, she was going to need something that would keep both Thorin's and her own temper in check. The fact that Thorin had already chuckled once suggested she was on the right course. And now that she was actually friends with Dwalin, she quite liked sharing the joke with him as well.

True to expectations, he chuckled. 'Not looking forward towards the night, then,' he concluded.

Kate snorted. 'Are you?' From the way she phrased that he must surely see she intended that as a rhetorical question.

He was wise enough to treat it as such.

Fortunately she had distraction ready for when she needed it, because Thoren and Thráin had been allowed to join all the grown-ups for at least part of the night. They had begged and whined for months if they could please, please, pretty please come to the feast and in the end Thorin had caved while Kate wasn't around. They'd had words about that after, but then Thorin had already promised and it was too late to do anything about it.

And perhaps he had been on to something. Because now, when an elf said something that made her mad or uncomfortable, she could plausibly pretend that she hadn't heard him because there was a child on her lap demanding her attention every so often.

'There are so many elves,' Thoren whispered breathlessly, pulling on her skirt to get her attention. 'Amad, do you see?'

Oh, she saw all right. 'Yes, dearest. Now, remember what we've discussed.'

'Behave, don't throw food, don't speak unless spoken to and don't go running around the hall before the dancing starts,' he parroted her endless refrain of the past days back at her. She should be pleased that he remembered, but it would remain to be seen if he acted on it. And the same was true for Thráin as well. Oh well, it was too late to send them back home now.

'Good lad,' she told him. She picked up Thráin. The chairs were too big for one his age and so he would have to witness the feast from his position on her lap. There was sense in such a course of action too; at least she wouldn't be able to throttle an elf when he made a remark that made her blood boil.

The elves were pleasant enough in all outward appearances. They greeted her politely and made the expected fuss over her lads. Some of them even seemed to mean their compliments.

And then there were those whose compliments were so fake, she could not fail to recognise them as such.

'Good Queen Catherine,' one of them greeted her. She thought his name was Fanion and she had a vague recollection of somebody mentioning that he was a distant relative of Thranduil's. 'How radiant you are looking this evening.' He clearly didn't mean a word of it.

Apparently Thráin had noticed this as well. He had been obeying her instructions for the grand total of ten minutes while she greeted guests that were seated near them, but he had a quick mind and the dwarvish loathing of untruthfulness. In hindsight she ought to have known that this was going to cause untold trouble.

'No, you're lying,' he said.

All of a sudden it was deadly silent in the hall. If luck had been on their side for once – really, would it be so much to ask? – Thráin's very true comment would have been drowned out by the general noisiness and even the few who would have heard him could reasonably pretend that they had not. The conversation could have carried on without a hitch and by morning everyone would have forgotten anything had ever happened at all.

Alas, luck was not their friend that night.

Thráin had spoken during one of those rare lulls in conversation, one that would make a hall full of people quiet for just a few seconds until one person would resume talking and everybody followed in their wake. Nobody restarted any sort of conversation now.

Oh, shit.

Thráin either didn't notice or misinterpreted the hush that had fallen over the hall. He was looking at Kate's face and clearly did not recognise the shock on it for what it was either. If anything, he must have decided that she didn't believe him, so he carried on: 'He's lying, amad. He wrinkled his nose at you. I saw. Adad always wrinkles his nose when you're telling him to eat vegetables.'

After this they could probably kiss diplomatic relations with the elves goodbye. This was really very bad. Not that Thráin had said anything that wasn't strictly speaking true. Every last word had been nothing but the truth. But Kate had learned in her eight years as Queen under the Mountain that just because something was true, was no reason whatsoever to actually speak it. That only worked on dwarves. And this whole room was filled with elves.

And Thráin was not even completely done yet. He considered his words, oblivious to the shocked gasps and continuing silence, and then added his final jewel of childish wisdom: 'And when he's talking to elves, too.'

Sometimes I wish you did not take quite so much after me, darling. There was no doubt in Kate's mind that the quick tongue and the not thinking before he blurted everything out had come from her. It may not be genetic, but there were still times that she led by example. I should have known that would come back to bite me one day.

At last the silence registered on Thráin's radar and all of a sudden he looked like an insecure five year old child. 'Amad, why's everybody staring? Did I say something wrong?' He looked to her for reassurance and in that precise moment, she had no idea how to give it to him without making matters even worse.

Fortunately Lufur hurried to her rescue. 'Your amad told you to mind your words, didn't she, lad?' He was kind enough about it, but there was a reprimand in his voice as well. 'You know what? Why don't we go and pay a visit to your Aunt Thora and Uncle Ori? And your brother could come as well?'

Both boys had already noticed that their aunt and uncle were seated very near their favourite elf, the one who didn't mind it when they said what they liked.

'Can we, amad?' Thoren asked. 'Can we, please?'

It was probably best to send them where they could do the least damage. And she would need all her wits about her for containing the diplomatic fall-out in this corner of the room. 'Off you go,' she told them.

Now for the hardest part.

The elves naturally were less than pleased with the proceedings and took more placating that Thorin honestly felt he had the patience for. After all, Thráin had not told a falsehood. Thorin had heard the whole of the exchange and this relative of Thranduil's had no more thought Kate to be radiant than Thorin thought elves to be pleasant company. Thráin had done them a favour bringing it out in the open. It might even lead the elves to examine their own conduct and realise they had been at fault.

Then again, these were elves they were dealing with.

Kate was good at smoothing ruffled feathers and she was the one who took up most of the task of restoring the elves' good humour, as in so far present in the first place. And even though she kept insisting she was no good at this game, she nevertheless managed to steer the conversation back to calmer waters. She even managed to weave the lines of William Shakespeare – or that was who he assumed she was quoting still – into the conversation.

So it was with resignation and not a little amusement that he sat through what was left of dinner, watching and listening to Kate having a lively conversation with a small group of elves – though not the offending one Thráin had rightfully accused of lying – near her, peppering her conversation with words that he knew were not her own.

Some fifteen minutes later she was in the middle of a heated debate with another one of them, who just didn't seem to be able to stop talking. So when he finally did, Kate did not fill the silence with a counter-argument – and there were a fair few she might have been able to give – but instead told him: 'I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.' This was one of the few remarks that, though not fully understood by the ones she spoke to, was at least well-received, for they all laughed.

A little later Lainor rose and addressed his hosts, thanked them for their hospitality and raised a toast he clearly did not mean.

'I like not fair terms and a villain's mind,' muttered Kate. Thorin could only agree with her there. Filled with humour though her comments had been thus far, they had also been filled with insight and this one in particular rang very true. Lainor was no friend of theirs and he would, on behalf of his king, surely cause as much trouble as he could get away with. Like Kate translated Thorin to the world at large, so Lainor often, but far more maliciously, caused mayhem with the dwarves for his king, keeping Thranduil standing high above it all on his precious moral high ground.

Naturally matters weren't likely to improve when Lainor announced that as a special kind of torture – fair play to him, he actually did say gift – he had brought some of his people's musicians with him to play for them this evening and to share with them the musical talents of the elves. Such as they are, Thorin thought.

If he was really honest, he would have to admit that the music was not as bad as he had feared. The words on the other hand were more of a problem. The song performed was a long ballad with many long descriptions of peoples Thorin had never met and places he had never seen. Therefore it was not long before he started to lose interest. That was, until of course his wife gave her own commentary on the singer: 'His words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes.' Dwalin snorted so loud the wine came out of his nose. It didn't help that Kate finished her commentary of the singer's skill with the remark that 'if he were a dog that would have howled thus, they would have hanged him.' Fortunately Dwalin was laughing so loud the elves could not possibly make out her words.

Sometime later, when the singer had finally sung his last note and the dancing had started up, a nearby elf looked in horror at the dancefloor. 'What's this?' he asked, directing his query at Kate, hoping that she as a fellow non-dwarf would be able to shed some light on the situation. It was clear from both his expression and his words that he didn't approve of dwarvish dancing and that he lived in fear of having to go out there and have a go at it.

'Have no fear,' Kate said, laughing. 'Though this be madness, there is method in it.' When the elf in question did not cease to look any less horrified, she added: 'Come now, live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little.'

The elf – Thorin really couldn't for the life of him remember his name, though they had been introduced earlier that evening – did not appear cheered. 'I do not think I shall venture out there,' he said.

Kate looked at him in reproach. 'What's that? You doubt your skill on the dancefloor? I thought your people were supposed to have mastered this art of dancing?'

'My art of dancing, yes, that's true. But I doubt I shall master this dwarvish art of dancing.' He was looking a bit pale.

'Maybe,' Kate allowed. She had that look about her that said her victim had played right into her hands. 'But our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.' Her well of Shakespeare had clearly yet to run dry and Dwalin's amusement had yet to dry up. His best friend was clearly having the time of his life. Even Lufur, whose duty it was to keep an eye on Kate, had been overheard chuckling from time to time.

The elf was clearly of the opinion there was no good to be won at all from leaving his chair and so he kept his backside planted firmly on it.

Kate merely shrugged. 'Suit yourself,' she said. 'But my feet are itching for a dance. How about it, husband?'

Thorin had never been much of a dancer. He had never had sufficient reason for the occupation and so lacked the practise to make it look as though he knew what he was doing, which in turn killed his enjoyment of the act. He could not stand to look the fool, especially not in front of the elves.

However, if he had to choose between remaining in this company for the rest of the night or taking Kate's escape route, he really didn't need to think about it. There would be no getting away from the elves come morning, when he would actually have to discuss business with them, but this night at least could be made somewhat bearable.

'Very well,' he agreed and took her hand.

'You looked like you were ready to strangle them,' Kate said when they were far enough away from the elves to not be overheard.

From anyone else this might have sounded like she had deliberately staged a rescue to stop him from doing something foolish. A few years ago Thorin might have interpreted it as such and have resented her for it. But he liked to think he knew her better than that by now. And she had been in as much danger of doing something rash as he had been.

'And they us,' he returned, twirling her around. This dance at least was a simple one and there were even less skilled dancers than he on the floor, which might not make him stand out as much.

Kate laughed. 'Very true,' she agreed. 'Well, I for one do not intend to spare them as much as a thought more before tomorrow morning. There is good music, there is dancing. I say we try to enjoy ourselves while we still can.'

He found it hard to argue with her. Enjoying himself was not something that came easy to him – he'd had too little cause for it before Smaug had been defeated – and it was harder to learn than he'd thought. But these past few years had done him good. It was hard to not learn a little when there was so much to be grateful for. And even though many people would disagree with him – not in the last place his own people – Thorin counted his wife as one of the chief blessings Mahal had bestowed upon him.

So he let her persuade him to dance, to chase the clouds in his mind away and after a while he did find he could laugh without restraint. The world's cares did not come so near him for a few hours.

'You looked like you were actually enjoying yourself,' Kate told him when they had at last made their excuses and they were on their way back home.

'What if I was?' he asked. 'Is there a law against smiling now that no one has seen fit to inform me of?' He was more relaxed than he had been when he had stepped out of his door that afternoon. That in itself was a miracle.

'Thranduil would probably make one if he could,' Kate pointed out reasonably.

'Aye, he'd stop folk laughing at your jests.' There was no doubt in his mind that Thranduil at least suspected that the Queen under the Mountain had spent most of her evening quite enjoyably mocking him and his, though without the knowledge of this William Shakespeare in his possession he would never be able to prove it. 'Have you not run out of them yet?'

She thought that over for a moment and then smiled, but it was a different kind of smile than the one she had shown their visitors. 'Well, I could summon up one more, I think.'

The underlying current of mockery she had put on display in front of their unwelcome guests all night had vanished completely. Whatever words she had for him, they would not be malicious.

He was proven right. 'I love nothing in the world so well as you,' she told him. 'Is not that strange?' Declarations of love of any kind were a rarity from her lips and maybe the more precious because of it. Because even though these were just stolen words, he could tell she meant them.

'Strange indeed,' he said. 'But welcome.' Then again, saying it back had never been his strong suit either.

She slipped her hand in his when they walked on. 'It's from one of my favourites, you know,' she said. 'This play called Much Ado About Nothing. And there are these two characters who always have a little verbal spar when they meet and who need a bit of help from their nearest and dearest to make them see they're quite in love with each other. Sounds a bit familiar, doesn't it?'

His lips curled up somewhat of their own volition. 'It does indeed.'

Kate shrugged. 'I was always a bit partial to it. I guess I know why now.'

'Aye, I see,' he said. Indeed, when she put it like that, there did seem to be certain similarities. 'And I love you.' It was true that he did not often know how to say the words, because somehow he always felt it made him too vulnerable, but his guard was down tonight and he knew he needn't fear her rejection.

A soft smile he didn't often see played around her lips. 'Stranger and stranger still,' she said. 'And I know.' Even on those days he didn't say it.

And though there was the prospect of long-winded talks and the company of the pointy-ears in the morning, Thorin Oakenshield quite against his own expectations went to bed with a smile that night.

Some time ago someone pointed out to me that although Kate had said 'I love you' to Thorin several times, he'd never actually said the same thing to her. My first instinct was to say something along the lines of 'that can't be true,' but then I searched all of The Journal and Duly Noted and discovered that this person had been right. So, I hope I put that right with this chapter.

As always, thank you for reading. If you have a moment, reviews are always much appreciated!