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Sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter. I have had alot going on between moving and remodeling and writers block. I hope it was worth the wait 3

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Chapter 19

Several weeks later…

Mistlynn was snuggled further into her soft pillows as she felt the suns warm rays fall upon her face. She stretched leisurely, before turning around to feel towards Thorin's side. The sheets were cold, only a faint lingering of his smokey scent still present on his pillow. Her brow furrowed as she slowly opened her eyes. Although their honeymoon was over, he had never woken up and left without giving her a kiss goodbye.

Mistlynn pushed herself up on her elbows, confused. She squinted as she peered out into the bright morning light. She could see the ravens flying back and forth in front of the window, as they prepared for their day.

She couldn't remember if Thorin had anything of importance scheduled for that day, especially since it was a Sunday. She pushed the heavy blankets back and placed her feet onto the cold stone floor, causing her to shiver as her body protested the adjustment. Autumn was upon them.

Mistlynn reached for her heavy robe and threw it on quickly. As she began to unravel her hair from its braid, the sound of soft music echoed into the room. She paused her movement as the music flowed in. She had never heard such music before, and it seemed to be coming from the living quarters of their suite.

She silently made her way towards the door. The melody was eerily familiar, like a distant dream it awakened within her the voice she had been forced to keep hidden within her. It was a lullaby her mother used to sing them she realized, and a sudden rush of bittersweet emotion flooded her.

She peered around the doorway and saw Thorin seated in one of their plush chairs, with a golden instrument placed between his knees and tilted up against his shoulder. His fingers danced across the strings, the source of the beautiful music. It was unlike any instrument she had ever seen.

She noticed he was also lost within the music he was creating, and the long-forgotten need to sing fluttered in her stomach. She found herself closing her eyes as her body began to sway in time with the melody. Faint, distorted memories surged up unbidden of her mother's face and hauntingly beautiful voice. She hadn't been able to conjure a memory of her mother for many years. And for the first time, since she was a young child, she lost herself to the music.

Thorin

He had awoken early with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as a slight sweat made the sheets of the bed cling to his chest. He grimaced as he ran a hand over his face. He looked over at Mistlynn who was still sleeping peacefully and sighed in relief. His nightmare had been disturbing, and he was not ready to share that part of his past yet. He had felt Mistlynn stir next to him as he fought to control the shaking of his body as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He couldn't allow her to see him like that. He was still reeling from the discovery of his grandfather's journal and of the disturbed ramblings. He leaned up against the headboard, breathing heavily as he ran a shaking hand through his sweat dampened hair. First the journal, now these confusing night terrors. He had to speak to Balin about this. But he couldn't bring himself to. Not yet. Just a few more days of peace.

He looked over at his sleeping wife, and he felt his anxiety loosen its grip on him. His gaze caressed her silhouette, her pale skin flawless and barely wrapped in the white silken sheet. He leaned down, allowing himself to nuzzle her neck before placing a loving kiss to her bare shoulder. She stirred slightly, his name escaping her lips as a contented sigh. He breathed her in, her scent and warmth soothing him. He smiled against her soft skin as he felt her surrender to sleep fully once again before he pulled himself away to slip out of bed without disturbing her.

He didn't dream of Frerin and Vili often, but when he did it was heart wrenching, no matter the many decades that had passed since they last walked among the living.

They had been there, during the time he would rather forget. But it was too soon, and the guilt was too fresh, especially since Bilbo was still visiting. He was happy that their friend had agreed to stay for the winter and travel home in the spring, but with every interaction, every meal and conversation the ice-cold voice of doubt and guilt whispered to him how close he had been to killing his friend over that accursed stone that was now locked away in the deepest crevices of the treasury vaults.

Instead of Dwalin and Bilbo, it had been Frerin and Vili standing before him in the newly reclaimed throne room, as he sat adorned in his deceased grandfather's godly royal robes. He could feel the cold, heavy pressure of the Raven crown sitting on his head. They had glared at him accusingly. The dragon sickness had vanished, its suffocating presence and serpent like hiss no longer had its deadly coils wrapped around his consciousness. He had begged and pleaded for forgiveness before their unforgiving gaze as they continued to stare down at him as he collapsed onto his knees.

"Please, I beg you. Forgive me." He rasped as he fought back the tears he felt burning behind his eyes. "I brought them home. We are home now."

"You are just like him." Frerin's pale lips moved, the hardness of his voice cutting Thorin to the very core of his being.

He shook his head desperately. "No Frer, No I am not him. I am nothing like him."

"You are a slave to that stone, just like our grandfathers were. There is no hiding from it, it is in your blood." Frerin pointed at him reproachfully. "It is not ours to keep, yet you hold on to it still. Do you think locking it away truly vindicates the bloodstains on our family name?"

"Tell me what I need to do?" He begged. "Tell me what I need to do, and I shall do it."

"Give it to the one who is meant to wield it." Vili's voice echoed in the massive cavern. "Or it will destroy you all."

Thorin was breathing heavily as an unsettling cold began to seep into him. "What … what do you mean wield it. It is a stone. A gem. Not a weapon."

Frerin and Vili both seemed to waiver, as if they were mirages in his fevered mind. Both images of his brothers flickered, distorting as his ears began to ring, "She is the heart, Thorin. Do not lose her. Only she can bring about the balance that was lost to our people."

Thorin sat back on his heels, staring in confusion as he watched them disappear, slowly disintegrating into glowing flakes of ash and smoke. "No." he breathed as he stumbled back to his feet, pulling Orcist from its sheath as the ash flurried and grew into a familiar shape. Serpent like eyes stared down at him menacingly as a blood curdling voice surrounded him.

"You cannot escape destiny, Thorin Oakenshield." Smaug hissed as smoldering ash became fiery red embers as a likeness of the fire drake manifested before his eyes. "You were never supposed to awaken from the sickness. You were supposed to be his to control."

Thorin bared his teeth in rage as his grip tightened on the hilt of Orcist. "I belong to no one!"

The image of Smaug cackled. "You cannot stop what is coming! You and all of your kin will perish. He will claim what is rightfully his!"

He felt his body shake with a thunderous fury. "I'll stand in your way. As I always have." His eyes glowed, like the deep waters of the sea ablaze with the orange fire of the setting sun. Black whisps of smoke and ash whipped around the flame body of Smaug.

"You will fall, in eternal shame, as your father and grandfather before you." The fire drake reared up, his black wings of smoke flaring out before lunging towards the enraged Dwarf King.

Thorin launched himself toward his reincarnated foe, Orcist held aloft and aimed toward the blackened heart of the beast. He could feel the heat of the raging fire drake as he sprinted towards him, prickling his skin as he drew closer with each passing second. Just as he was about to clash, to sink his sword into the drakes body, he felt as if he was dragged from his dream with a vice like grip. It was then that he had reeled awake, sweat beaded along his skin as his heart raced.

He had washed himself quickly, eager to chase away the evidence of his nightmare from his skin. He dressed quietly before slipping out of the bedroom and into the main living area. It wasn't long before he had a fire blazing in the fireplace. He made several attempts to read through waiting correspondence before he gave that up. His mind was still in shambles from his nightmare, its hidden meaning lost to him. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair, rubbing his face wearily as he tried to quiet his mind.

He stared into the fire for a few moments before his gaze wandered over to his old harp, sitting in the corner of the room. The desire to play welled up inside him. He couldn't remember when he had last played. He found himself sitting back down in front of the fire with the instrument leaning against him. He let his fingers drift over the strings, softly strumming the cords before he lost himself in the music.

He was brought back to the present when he heard an angelic voice join in with one of his Amad's favorite lullabies she used to sing to him and his siblings. He looked up, his fingers faltering slightly in shock as he watched Mistlynn sway in time with the melody he was playing. Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped around herself as she sang along, her voice carrying with a soul searing power that reverberated in the room around them.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as the words fell from her lips flawlessly, the pure beauty of her voice hypnotizing him as he watched a whole new side of her unravel and bloom right before his very eyes. He felt his skin prickle as goosebumps erupted along his arms clear up to the nape of his neck as her voice carried the last notes in perfect harmony as their music faded, sinking into the walls of the mountain that surrounded them.

His mouth agape, he placed his harp upright as he slowly stood from his seat. She opened her eyes, blinking as if awakening from a trance. "I didn't know you could play such music. What kind of instrument is that? It is so beautiful." She smiled softly as she watched him approach her.

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle. "That was a harp. And I am very out of practice, you, on the other hand…" he trailed off as he linked his hands with hers. "Mistlynn…your voice…I had no idea you could sing like that."

Her smile grew bashful as she shrugged. "Oh, I haven't sung since I was a young child. Since before my mother died." Her smile faded slightly as her eyes became shadowed with a deep sadness. "My father didn't like me singing. He forbade me to do so after she passed on. She was teaching me. That lullaby was one of the last songs she taught me."

"Your father forbade you from singing?" Thorin couldn't believe what she was telling him. He fought to conceal the anger that began to well up inside of him. The idea of her father subduing her gifts from the Valar incensed him. He was determined to help her out of this protective shell she had erected around herself,

She shrugged again, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. "I think it reminded him too much of my mother." She wrapped her arms around his neck, brushing her nose against his. "I would sing when I was alone of course, but as I got older, I just got too busy. Hearing you play that lullaby made me want to sing for the first time in decades. You play beautifully."

Thorin chuckled as he pulled her closer, his hands resting possessively on her waist. "Your performance was much more impressive M'eudail. But thank you." He nuzzled his nose with hers teasingly before capturing her smiling lips in an alluring kiss. Her giggle quickly became a muffled squeal as he pulled her back towards the chair he had been sitting on and directly into his lap. "Any other hidden talents you are keeping from me Kurdunuh?" He growled playfully into her neck as his hands wandered over the silk nightdress that hugged her body.

"You are one to talk, your royal stubbornness." She gasped in mock offense as she pressed her hands into his shoulders, forcing him to sit back so that she could see the teasing smirk on his face.

His hands fell to rest on the top of her bare thighs, allowing him to trace invisible patterns with his fingertips. He relished the delicious flush of pink that dusted her chest and the apples of her cheeks as she tried to squirm against his ministrations.

"I am not the one hiding a voice that could bring Mahal himself to his knees."

"I wasn't hiding it. The opportunity to share never presented itself." She shrugged. "Now, should we head down to breakfast?"

Her stomach fluttered in eager anticipation as she watched his smirk transform into a lecherous grin. "It is terrible form to skip right to second breakfast."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him in confusion. "We haven't had breakfast yet?" She couldn't help the squeak that escaped her lips as he jumped up from the chair, trapped in his arms before pinning her down on the couch, trapping her body under his.

"We have yet to indulge in our first breakfast." His lustful growl made her gasp as she felt his hands slip under her nightgown and travel up slowly, teasing her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I am ravenous for you above all else." He breathed hotly into her ear before teasing her earlobe with his teeth.

It wasn't surprising to anyone when breakfast was missed by the newlyweds.

"So, how is married life treating you?" Bilbo smiled knowingly as he walked with Thorin along the carved path of the garden.

He had never seen Thorin so relaxed, a heart lifting exuberance radiated from the Dwarf King. He watched his friend smile with an ease he had only ever seen on Fili before a bashful huff of a laugh escaped him. "It is … very good." He looked down at the hobbit, who was chucking while he puffed on his pipe.

A couple, skillfully smoke circles floated ahead of them. "Good indeed." Bilbo chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would be greatly disturbed by the constant smile on your face."

"I do not walk around with a smile on my face." Thorin groused as he forced a grumpy scowl on his face. He succeeded to hold the scowl for only a few moments before he had to press his lips together to stop the smile threatening to take over his face once again. Bilbo laughed heartedly as he watched the Dwarf King's trademark scowl give away into a rueful grin.

"You have it bad my friend." Bilbo chortled as he shook his head. "Not that it's a bad thing. It is very good indeed. You and your people deserve this, Thorin."

Thorin looked down at his feet as he stopped walking, his smile fading slightly as he turned to face Bilbo.
"I fear it is the calm before the storm Bilbo. My people are still scattered throughout all Arda, and the alliance between the seven dwarven kingdoms is still in shambles. Some of the dwarven lords are not happy with my marriage to Mistlynn, two of which have refused to answer any correspondence since we retook Erebor, and I claimed the throne."

Bilbo cocked his head to the side as he studied Thorin, his mouth playing with his pipe. "They came when you called that meeting before the Quest?"

Thorin nodded. "They were not thrilled then, and it's obvious they still very much opposed to my claim."

"Are they not supposed to swear their allegiance to you? Being the descendant of Durin the Deathless?"

Thorin shrugged, his good-natured smile now completely gone. "That was the way of it, with my forefathers and theirs. My Irak'adad's infliction with the Arkenstone put a strain on many of our alliances. It fostered feelings of resentment amongst our people, and that only grew after the slaughter of our armies in the Battle of Azanulbizar. We are no longer a united people. And my One being of an unknown clan with a mixed heritage didn't help inspire much confidence in my ability to lead."

Bilbo frowned. "Didn't inspire confidence? What! You reclaimed Erebor! You fought against Smaug, defeated Azog and his army, you reestablished your alliances with Mirkwood and Dale …" He shook his head in irritation. "You were strong enough to fight against the influence of the Arkenstone."

Thorin shook his head. "It still affected me Bilbo and I have made many mistakes." He sighed heavily. "I don't allow myself to enter the treasury, I have the Arkenstone locked away deep in the mountain vaults. That is not a secret. No matter what I do, my Irak'adad's indiscretions keep making a reappearance." The admittance was bitter on his tongue, making him grimace. "During our honeymoon, I found one of my Irak'adad's journals." He began, his voice deep and heavy with some unspoken burden. He turned towards one of the benches that was placed alongside the garden walkway. He sat down and placed his elbows on his knees.

Bilbo cocked an eyebrow as he took a deep pull from his pipe. He sat down next to Thorin and let more smoke rings escape his mouth. He looked at Thorin's defeated pose before he nudged him with his shoulder and held out his pipe in offering. Thorin raised his head from his hands and looked at the pipe. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, much to Bilbo's relief. Thorin took a deep inhale from the pipe, held it deep in his chest, then let it out. He felt the tension leave him, as if escaping on the faint autumn breeze along with the exhaled smoke.

"Have you told Balin about it?" Bilbo asked, his tone neutral.

Thorin sighed again as he handed Bilbo back his pipe. "No. I've told no one."

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. "It was that bad huh?"

Thorin shook his head again. "The beginning was perfectly fine, but then the dragon sickness started to take hold, And his paranoia took on a whole new life." Thorin swallowed thickly. "It was really hard to read."

Bilbo was quiet, as he watched Thorin sit up straighter in his seat as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "A lot of it didn't make sense. Towards the end of the journal, from what I could tell, he got a letter delivered by some sort of bird he had never seen before. It was from a Dwarf King in the North, demanding the return of the Iklal Kurdu or he would march on Erebor and take it by force. That it was his kin's right to wield it. The timeline of the entry explains a lot of things… according to the date of the entry it was right before Thranduil came to collect his wife's necklace. And my Irak'adad denied his claim. He also became suspicious of the other Dwarf Lords; our alliances became strained after that as well. My Adad and I never could figure out what caused it. Now I know"

"Did this Dwarf King give his name?"

"Varric. He didn't give a name of his kingdom. But if he threatened war… he had some military backing."

Bilbo nodded, his mind churning with all this new information. "What is the Iklal Kurdu?"

Thorin shook his head again. "It means 'Cold Heart' in our tongue." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I've never heard of it."

"It must be terribly important if one King threatens another over it." Bilbo mused. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"I don't. It has to be a weapon of some kind. My family weapons have all been smithed by our own hands, we have nothing that has an unknown origin, especially in the time of my grandfather. Any weapon not made by dwarf hands was forbidden."

"That is a strange name for a weapon." Bilbo tapped his pipe against his chin thoughtfully. Thorin snorted in amusement.

"My thought exactly. Not a typical name for a weapon used in battle. I've had Ori go over records of our weapons, the ones that have gained notoriety amongst my people. He has found nothing that comes close to that name or description."

"What Dwarven Kingdoms are in the North?"

"The Grey Mountains. But they were settled by my forefathers. Dragons and Orcs were too much to fight off, so they came back here to Erebor and others to the Iron Hills. We have some mining camps farther North but that's it. No kingdoms have been established outside of Durin's folk, and they are loyal to me."

Bilbo hummed as he let out another couple smoke rings. "What about the White Kingdom." The hobbit let the question hang in the air, and it quickly became heavy between them. "Mistlynn was their princess correct? What is her father's name?"

Thorin blinked as he silently berated himself for not even considering Mistlynn's people. "She told me her Adad is a recluse, that he has forbidden any contact with any kingdom outside of the Northern Wastes."

"That is her father. What about her Grandfather?"

"I've never asked. And she has never volunteered the information." Thorin's tone became low and quiet. "Honestly Bilbo, I didn't even consider her people. Until she came, her people were just a myth."

"I'm not suggesting that Mistlynn is intentionally keeping things from you. From what I've gathered, she would rather forget her homeland, her people and begin anew here with you." Bilbo paused as he gave Thorin a pointed look. "But I doubt her people have stayed hidden for centuries. It may not be her father, but what of her grandfather? Or her ancestors? If some of these other Dwarf Lords are so upset that you have married her, it must be for a reason. Whether they know something of her kingdom or not, there is no way a kingdom of dragon slaying dwarves and elves have kept completely to themselves."

"I assumed they were upset due to her elven lineage. But word of my alliance with Dale and Mirkwood has reached them as well. My family's history with the Ironfists and the Stiffbeards have always been tedious. I wasn't surprised when they refused to assist me with my quest to reclaim Erebor." Thorin had stood up and began to pace in front of Bilbo who was still seated on the bench.

"You, along with the company, are the most forward-thinking dwarves I have heard of. Even your people here are starting to become more open minded when it comes to the other races. This will be seen as a threat to other clans, as I was perceived by you at the beginning of our quest. But I am sure you will be able to persuade them, especially with Mistlynn at your side. You just need to get to the bottom of this threat that your grandfather received, and the rest should fall into place. And I believe the answer lies with the White Kingdom." Bilbo closed his lips around his pipe as he continued to hum thoughtfully, outright ignoring the incredulous stare Thorin was giving him at that moment.

"I didn't see you as a threat." Thorin mumbled gruffly as he stopped pacing to look at Bilbo directly.

Bilbo tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Indeed, I was, my friend. A burden. A nuisance. A threat. No need to be ashamed of that. I had just as much to prove to myself as I did to you. Our friendship is the stronger for it." Bilbo swung his feet as he gave Thorin a cheery grin.

Thorin's lip twitched with a promise of a smile, but he couldn't allow it. Not with his thoughts racing with all Bilbo had given him to think about.

Bilbo was shrewd, and had a knack for sensing inner turmoil, especially when it came to his friends. "Why have you not spoken to Balin about this?"

Thorin let out a resigned huff as he looked down at his boots. "I've put Balin through enough with Dragon sickness. To have him read my Irak'adad's journal when he was in the height of his sickness …" he trailed off his thought before he brought his gaze back up to meet Bilbo's. "I've been having dreams since I read that journal. Dreams that don't make sense …" he stopped. His eyes shifted back down to the ground before him. "But they do."

Bilbo's brows furrowed as he watched Thorin's expression change from confusion, frustration, then suddenly realization.

"Durin's beard." Thorin exhaled, as he rubbed his face with his palm. "The Arkenstone, Mistlynn."

"I am sorry. What?" the hobbit shifted his weight forward as he looked at Thorin, intrigued.

"My dream. I had a dream of Frerin and Vili. They told me it was hers to wield. That it was never ours to keep."

Bilbo's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You're brother? What is hers to wield?"

Thorin swallowed thickly. His mouth became dry as if it was filled with sand. "The Arkenstone." He breathed.