Chapter Text
‘Do you know what you have done, Thorin Oakenshield?’
‘I have failed. I have lost that which was most precious and doomed my line. I have harmed those who ought to have been my allies and sown discord where there ought to have been cooperation. I have failed.’
‘So you do begin to see then. Yet, do you truly understand? Is it the Arkenstone that you mourn so strongly?’
‘A rock. A beautiful rock, truly, but only a rock and for this I have led my nephews to death. They were little more than children and the greed of the line of Durin doomed them. No, I do not mourn for the Arkenstone. I mourn for children. For mine and for those of the Men who burned when we drove the dragon from Erebor. They ought never to have been in harm’s way.’
‘And the elves? Do you mourn for their losses?’
‘Did they mourn for ours when we were driven from our mountain?’
‘Oh, I believe they did, but it is sometimes the failing of a king, is it not, to place pride above the welfare of those outside their kingdom? Would your Grandfather have bent his neck to Thranduil as he demanded Thranduil bend his before Erebor’s throne? Would he have accepted that insult and then aided the one responsible?’
‘The children who died for his lack of aid were not responsible!’
‘No, but nor were the elves Thranduil lost to the darkness that encroached on his forest responsible for their fates. Your Grandfather did not move to save them, not even when Thranduil swallowed his pride and appeared before him to request the aid which an ally ought to have been accorded.’
‘You would blame the enmity on the Dwarves then? We are the only ones at fault?’
‘No, I blame no one, for that is not my role in this. My role is only to make you think of the cost that has been paid for pride and greed and to ask if you would do things differently a second time.’
‘A pointless exercise, surely. There can be no second time.’
‘Can there not? Are you so sure of that, Son of Durin? To whom do you think you speak?’
‘I would not know, would I? I have not had the pleasure of an introduction.’
‘You cannot guess?’
‘I am dead and my nephews with me. I have little patience for guessing games.’
‘Very well, then. Let us return to the pertinent question. Would you change it? All of it? The course of the quest, your dealings with the Men and the Elves, your actions at Erebor?’
‘I would. If it would save them, I would.’
‘Then listen well, Thorin Oakenshield, and perhaps you will have the chance…’
Chapter One: Letting Go
It was a strange thing, to be so certain that death was the end all of your life and then to have your death revoked as if it had never happened. Thorin could remember, in full detail, the feeling of his life leaving him. He remembered making his apologies to Bilbo, remembered Balin telling him that the lads had already perished and remembered being entirely ready to die from guilt. Then, suddenly, he had been having a conversation with a most annoying being (and wasn’t that a peculiar idea, that the creator of their race could be annoying) and realising that he might not end up dead after all.
Thorin had no concept of how long he had lingered in the place between death and life. It had not seemed long to him and yet it had been long enough for Mahal to chip away at some of his longest-held beliefs. Only the little self-preservation Thorin had retained prevented him from calling the god a series of unpleasant names during that time. Apparently, the Dwarves’ creator was far more enamoured of Elves than any of them had realised. He had been determined that Thorin was not allowed to leave until he had adjusted his way of thinking… and Mahal had been right, curse him, even if Thorin hadn’t wanted him to be.
‘So we have finally reached an accord, have we, Master Oakenshield?’ Mahal’s voice rang in his head with a certain amount of amusement.
‘You are the Valar here, you tell me,’ Thorin responded irritably and heard full laughter this time.
‘Oh, perhaps Eru was right when he scolded me for creating my own people. His first-born never give him such trouble I’m sure!’ Mahal’s only response was a slight grumbling noise from Thorin, and he seemed happy enough to ignore it. Instead, he became serious once more. ‘Thorin, it is time now. You know what I would have you do and you have some idea of how you may do it. If we cannot assure the future of your race this time, we will not get a third chance.’
‘I know it,’ Thorin replied gravely, ‘I will do all that I can. If the Line of Durin fails again it will not be through lack of trying.’
‘Very well, then,’ his creator responded. ‘Let it be done.’
Thorin felt his mind go blank and then suddenly he was in his body once more, awakening in the house he had shared with Dís and his nephews before the quest began.
«««
It was a good thing, Thorin decided, that he had arrived during the night and so in his own room. Suddenly being plunged back into a physical body when you had been basically formless for a stretch of time was a very strange feeling. Lying in bed, Thorin found himself stretching his limbs and twisting at his joints, trying to get used to the sensation of being solid once again. It was a pleasant feeling, he decided. Dwarves were not meant for the light, airy feeling of being weightless. They were meant to be on solid ground, connected to the stone from which they had been carved.
Unfortunately being solid once more did have its drawbacks. For one, Thorin was starving. He was going to have to try and sneak into the kitchen to eat without awakening any of his family. He was also aching abominably, which he suspected meant he had arrived after a day when he had been trying to work himself into unconsciousness in his forge. He remembered doing so many times in the months before the quest. Reports had begun to trickle in that his father had been spotted in Dunland. Thorin had been both hopeful and hopeless, wondering if this time, at last, Thrain might truly have been found and wondering what state he would be in if he was. The whole thing had worn on him and his sleep had been troubled unless he was utterly exhausted before he retired for the night.
Hauling himself out of bed, Thorin made for the kitchen. There would have to be food there somewhere. He and Dís were not wealthy in Ered Luin, but nor were they as destitute as they had been in the first months after the fall of Erebor.
Having successfully managed to eat without waking anyone, Thorin pondered what to do next. There was much that he would need to do, and much he needed to change, in the next few months. However, with the rest of the household asleep and Thorin himself beginning to feel sleepy, there was no particular reason it needed to be done now. Decision made, Thorin returned to bed.
«««
He was woken the next morning by the familiar sounds of his nephews squabbling over something or other. It was not a serious argument, or else Dís would be banging their heads together by now, but it was comforting to hear. Pulling himself out of bed and quickly washing and dressing Thorin prepared to encounter the lads again. It had not been so long since he had seen them really, but he had not been in his right mind for any of their last encounters. He had missed them while he had been waiting to return and it would be good see them whole and healthy. He had not been the only one taken by gold sickness in the end, though he had been the worst and his sickness had been the longest lasting.
Entering the main room of their house, he found the scene much as he expected. Dís stood at the fireplace, occasionally poking at the porridge which would make up their breakfast. Fíli had some item of his brother’s in hand, and was waving it in the air above Kíli’s head. Thorin snorted in amusement. Fíli hadn’t yet grasped that Kíli was barely an inch shorter than him these days. He was not likely to hold onto his prize for long if they continued. As it was, his snort drew their attention and they turned to him and straightened, Fíli quickly shoving the whatever-it-was behind his back.
‘Uncle!’ two voices rang out together.
‘You’re up earlier than we were expecting. You had not yet returned when we went to bed last night,’ Kíli finished in a surprised tone.
Thorin obviously had no idea when he had come home the night before, but that it had been late in the night did not surprise him.
‘There is work to be done today,’ he commented pointedly, raising an eyebrow at their appearance. Neither of the boys was dressed and Fíli’s braids were half done. Kíli, of course, had clearly not bothered with any the day before. His hair resembled a rat’s nest more than any dwarven style.
‘Ah yes, work. We should go and… prepare to do that. Now.’ The boys both started backing away, then spun around and disappeared into the room they shared. This time Thorin’s snort was joined by another, similar sound and he turned to the fireplace to see Dís shaking her head.
‘They are still children at heart,’ she muttered. ‘I begin to wonder if they will ever grow up.’
‘They will,’ Thorin informed her. ‘They will not have a choice. Balin has forced worse than the pair of them to maturity.’
‘So he has,’ Dís said wryly. ‘I thought you and Frerin would be the death of him at one point.’
‘You, of course, were a model of good behaviour,’ came the rejoinder.
‘Of course!’ Dís smiled innocently, not her most natural expression, and then the two of them began to chuckle.
‘You are in a better mood today, Brother,’ she said when their laughter faded, turning to stir their breakfast. ‘You have been… distracted these last few days.’
‘By which you mean I have been bad-tempered and irritable,’ Thorin filled in, causing Dís to turn back towards him sharply. ‘I am not unaware of it, Sister,’ he said calmly, feeling guilty for the worry his former self had clearly been causing her. ‘I have been troubled and I have taken it out on the rest of you. I am sorry for it.’
‘You have not seemed willing to speak of it,’ Dís told him. ‘I had expected we would have to drag it out of you eventually.’
‘Hmm,’ Thorin agreed, ‘You might well have done, but I thought long and hard last night and I believe it is time decisions were made. I would have your council, and Balin and Dwalin’s, before I decide for certain.’
‘We will be glad to give it. Truly, Thorin, I would like to see you at peace again.’ It was not often that his sister was earnest, Thorin thought. In general she preferred to bully them into health and happiness with sarcastic comments and threats. That she was earnest now meant he really had been worrying her. He would have to change that as soon as possible, he decided. It would not do to leave on the quest with Dís shouldering the burden of leadership, concerned for her sons and worried about Thorin’s soundness of mind.
‘Then we will speak of it tonight. I will invite Balin and Dwalin for dinner, and we can send the lads elsewhere afterward.’
‘They will not like that, Thorin,’ Dís warned him.
‘They may not, but I will do it nonetheless,’ Thorin told her. ‘Some of what I would discuss with you concerns the two of them. Once the decisions have been made by those of us willing to acts as adults I will speak to Fíli and Kíli.’
‘Very well then, brother,’ Dís agreed. ‘I will follow your advice, for now.’
Thorin smiled suddenly, amused at her wording. Dís only ever followed anyone’s advice ‘for now’. She was almost as stubborn and pig-headed as he was. He nodded in response, still smiling, and was rewarded with a smile from Dís as well.
‘You are at the forge today?’ Dís asked him suddenly.
‘I am,’ Thorin responded, struggling to remember what work he had to complete. ‘I believe we owe the Men the swords they ordered when last they were here.’
Several of the local villages traded with the dwarves for the metals they worked and other goods which the dwarves of Ered Luin produced at a higher quality than anyone else nearby. However, the rare orders for arms from the militia of the nearest town always came to Thorin. His Grandfather had been determined, even after the fall of their kingdom, that his heir would be able to smith the highest quality weapons as well as wield them and Thorin had the most experience of any smith still living in Ered Luin. Only because, he reflected ruefully, most of their best smiths had found homes in other dwarven settlements in the years since Erebor was destroyed.
Thankfully, Dís seemed to be in agreement that they had an order due, so Thorin’s memory was not too faulty. She also reminded him that he was expected to hold court in the next few days, to settle the few disputes that had arisen. In this, too, his people still deferred to him and he reminded himself to ask Balin about the cases tonight.
At that point the boys re-entered the room, doing their best to look dignified after their earlier display. Kíli still had no braids in his hair, Thorin noted, he never did. He had, however, at least made an effort to brush it this time.
‘Eat quickly,’ Thorin ordered, ‘we have much to do today.’
‘Yes, Uncle,’ they chorused. Soon afterwards all three headed to the forge to begin the day’s work.
«««
Thorin was surprised to realise how much he had missed his work during the Company’s travels. Since Smaug had taken Erebor being a blacksmith had been a duty for him. His grandfather had required it and the money had been desperately needed to support his family and those who looked to them for protection. He had never thought to find it a comfort to go through the familiar motions he had performed hundreds of times before. Now, however, he found it to be quite soothing, especially with his nephews nearby performing the same tasks as he had taught them. They were relatively new to smithing, but Kíli in particular had the knack for it and would be a master in time. Fíli did not have the same joy in it but his work was still good.
They worked quickly together and by early afternoon they had managed a reasonable amount of work on their main order. Thorin sent Fíli over to Balin’s home to invite the brothers for dinner and when he returned they packed up for the day and returned home.
Dís had clearly come back from her own shop early, as something was cooking over the fire. She emerged soon after they arrived, one of the instruments she was currently crafting in hand.
‘We’ll be having stew,’ she informed Thorin sternly. ‘I made sure there’d be enough for that empty pit you call a guardsman as well as our own gannets.’
‘Thank you, Dís,’ he responded, knowing his cue when he heard it. ‘We will make sure the table is laid and all else ready.’
‘Hmph,’ she replied, her earlier humour hidden once again, ‘I have work to be getting on with. We do not all have two apprentices to share the load.’
This said, she retreated back into her room, ignoring the indignant cries of her sons as they protested that they had not been apprentices for at least a year. Thorin, too, ignored them.
It was not long before Balin arrived, with Dwalin joining them shortly afterward muttering about ‘the damned thief’. Thorin took this to mean that Dwalin had had another of his many encounters with Nori and that it had not ended satisfactorily. Dwalin took great exception to Nori’s ability to escape justice on a regular basis despite the efforts of the guardsmen to find definitive proof that he had committed his latest crime.
Dís reappeared once again and pronounced that dinner was ready after a few moments. Then chaos reigned for some time as everyone tried to get their share before it was stolen by another. Dwalin was, as Dís had pointed out earlier, endlessly hungry, but Balin made sure to thump him when he tried to steal the last of the stew out from under Kíli’s nose.
‘The lad’s only had one bowl and that would be your fourth. Behave yourself, you’re a guest!’ Balin’s voice held more weariness than scolding, after years of speaking similar phrases at regular intervals.
Dwalin gave in begrudgingly and then it was Thorin’s turn to thump Kíli when he seemed inclined to gloat. Dís treated the entire table to a stern glare and all of them subsided quickly.
‘Boys, you may clear the table and then find something to do elsewhere.’
Both lads seemed unhappy at the order and Thorin could see them preparing to argue. However, they were treated to another of their mother’s array of glares and clearly decided that discretion was the better part of valour. The table was swiftly cleared, cloaks and pipes collected, and then Fíli and Kíli were gone.
Finding himself faced with three expectant stares, Thorin attempted to get his thoughts in order and then began.
«««
‘You have all noticed that I have been distracted and angry of late,’ he started, only to be interrupted by Dwalin’s rumble of agreement.
‘You’ve been as twitchy as a squirrel with only one nut to see him through winter,’ Thorin’s friend added, causing both Dís and Balin to try and turn laughter into coughs.
‘Where do you even come up with these phrases?’ Thorin asked incredulously, before deciding he probably didn’t want to know. Squaring his shoulders, he began again.
‘As I was saying, I have been distracted. Word has been coming to Ered Luin that Thrain has been sighted in Dunland. There have been several reports and I have been waiting for further confirmation.’
Thorin paused at this point and looked to Dís for her reaction. In the previous time he had not told her this; his trip to Bree had been disguised as one of the jobs protecting caravans that he and the lads still took sometimes when money was tight.
Dís looked surprised, which meant she was closer to stunned on the inside. Then a look of great sadness darkened her face. Drawing a slow breath, she closed her eyes briefly before looking at her brother.
‘Thorin, Father has been missing for years upon years. Perhaps once there was hope of his return but now… even if he were to be found, he would not be our father. In his right mind Thrain would have returned of his own volition.’ Dís’ voice quavered slightly in the middle of her speech, but for the rest she was as resolute as ever. Balin and Dwalin sat silently, both watching carefully.
‘I know,’ Thorin admitted after a short pause. ‘I have known it for years though I did not wish to. That is one of the things I have had to come to grips with in the last few weeks. Like it or not, I am all the king that is left to our people now.’
‘That is no bad thing, laddie,’ Balin added quietly. ‘I can think of few other dwarves I would trust with the care of the dwarves of Erebor.’
Thorin laughed softly, and looked fondly at his old friend.
‘You have always had greater faith in me than I had in myself, Balin. There are many who say that it would have been better if I, and not Frerin, had perished at Azanulbizar.’
‘There is no point dwelling on what might have been, Thorin,’ Dwalin said sharply. ‘Frerin died, as did our father, and all that we can do is try to lead lives they would have been proud of. Frerin was even younger than you at Azanulbizar. There is no telling what sort of king he might have made.’
Bolstered by the swift support of his friends, Thorin allowed some of the tension to bleed from his shoulders, though not all.
‘If you can still say the same, both of you, by the end of the night, I will count myself lucky indeed,’ he told them wryly.
‘Father was not the only trouble on your mind, then?’ Dís questioned him.
‘No, he was not,’ and here Thorin sent a fervent prayer to Mahal for luck. ‘The same reports that mentioned sightings of Father also mentioned a darkness spreading across the land. Orcs, goblins, trolls and wargs have been spotted where they have not been seen for many years. Something stirs and brings evil with it.’
‘I have not heard such reports, Thorin,’ Balin commented in surprise. ‘None of those who have travelled to Ered Luin have mentioned such a thing.’
‘No,’ Thorin said, praying harder than ever, ‘they may well not have. The problems are not widespread yet. My contacts make their business by gathering information, however. From one or even two I might assume coincidence, but I have five reports all telling a similar tale. Whether it is a signal of a greater problem or not may be in question but there is no question in my mind that the world outside is more dangerous than ever.’
None of his companions looked particularly convinced and Thorin could not blame them. It was a flimsy excuse for concern, reports from five men who had also reported sightings of a dwarf even Thorin knew was dead by now. He could only hope it was enough. That the three of them believe him in this was essential to several more steps of his plan. Thorin waited with bated breath for their comments.
‘You believe this?’ Balin asked at last. ‘You truly believe that there is trouble coming?’
‘I do,’ Thorin stated with all the conviction he could muster.
‘Then I can do no less than believe you.’ At Dwalin’s noise of disbelief, Balin turned to his brother and treated him to a look that always left him abashed. ‘We have trusted Thorin through exile and war and the building of this settlement. Are we to turn away now?’
‘I am not speaking of turning away, Brother. You know me better than that. But what is the point of friends and advisors if they can’t tell you when they think you’re out of your mind?’
‘Peace, both of you,’ Thorin sighed. ‘I do not expect blind devotion, you know that. Nor do I think that Balin gives anything blindly,’ he added to appease Balin’s look of insult. ‘I simply state the facts as I see them. For they will be important for the rest of what I have to say.’
‘Then perhaps you had best say it all at once and we may debate it afterwards,’ Dís suggested in a tone which made it clear that her words were nothing so polite as a suggestion.
‘Very well,’ Thorin said gravely. ‘All at once it shall be. I would have you all remember that you have agreed not to speak until I am done.’
‘We’ll behave, laddie,’ Balin promised. The other two followed him swiftly. Thorin simply sighed once more and then started to talk.
‘I have thought of our home almost constantly since it was taken. This much will not surprise any of you. We all contemplate what we might have had, I think. These last few months and weeks, however, I have been thinking more and more of trying to reclaim Erebor.’
The three all made efforts to contain their surprise at this point and Thorin gave them a moment before continuing.
‘I worry, as I look at the reports that come through, and think of what has happened since Smaug came. I worry about the evil that I believe must be calling the foul things of the world forth. Even more, I worry about the harm that such evil could do with a dragon at its bidding.
‘I am aware that the dragon has not been seen for 60 years. That itself would worry me, for I suspect other eyes turn towards our home. There will be those who believe Smaug dead and wish for a share of his hoard for their own. They are wrong, I am almost certain of it, but that is the lesser problem. The greater is still the damage Smaug might do if he is roused from slumber. In a few hours he reduced two of the greatest cities in the world to little more than ash. ‘Twas my family that brought Smaug upon Erebor and upon Dale. If there is a way to kill him we owe it to our people and to the people of Dale to find it. It is my intention to travel to Erebor and try to find a way to kill Smaug once and for all.’
Now, Thorin nodded his head to indicate that he had finished for the time being. Immediately, a cacophony of sound assaulted him.
‘Thorin, this is madness…’
‘Brother, for Mahal’s sake, you cannot…’
‘If you think I’m letting you just march off to your death…’
This, at least, was familiar, Thorin thought. Such had been their reactions when he had first proposed the quest before. Then he had turned them to his way of thinking by speaking of the wealth of Erebor and the prospect that it might be stolen by scavengers if Smaug were dead. This time would need a very different tactic, he decided.
‘I am not going mad,’ Thorin uttered, looking sincerely at each of them in turn. ‘I am aware of the risks, I assure you. The greatest army Erebor could raise did not defend us against that dragon, nor do I believe an army will do so now. It will take cunning – and that is not something the men of the line of Durin are known for.’
‘And its women are?’ Dís questioned in a dangerous tone of voice. Thorin was about to give the sensible, negative answer to this question when Dwalin decided to risk his life.
‘Give over, lass. I’ve seen battle plans less well-prepared than the plot you concocted to win Vili over. If that was not cunning, I’m an elf,’ Dwalin stated.
Thorin looked at Balin incredulously. ‘He thinks I am mad – at least I am only planning to fight a dragon!’
‘He was dropped on his head as a child,’ Balin informed him seriously. ‘It’s the only explanation.’
In the time it took for this exchange, Dwalin had suffered a minor head injury courtesy of one of Dís’ cooking spoons. Despite his plea for support, Thorin continued the earlier conversation as if nothing had happened.
‘In truth, I do not know if it can be done or, if it can, how. But I do firmly believe that the dragon must be killed. If nothing else, only his death will assure the safety of those who live around Erebor. No dragon can sleep forever. Eventually he will be driven out of the mountain, either in search of food or more gold to add to his hoard.’
‘Thorin, he sits upon the greatest collection of wealth this world has ever known!’ Balin reminded his King.
‘Yes, and once he must have had another hoard somewhere. He abandoned it to search for a better. Perhaps there is none better to be found, but I do not believe greed is a disease that is easily satisfied. Eventually, I think Smaug will decide that his pile of treasure would be more impressive with more treasure upon it and he will go searching.’ All of this Thorin said sombrely, thinking of his grandfather and what his greed had brought upon them. It had never sat well, this link between the dragon who had destroyed their home and the grandfather Thorin had once loved. It was part of the reason he had been angry with Thranduil for daring to suggest it.
‘Nevertheless, Thorin, you are suggesting you risk your life for a problem that is far away now,’ was Dís’ contribution. ‘Perhaps we cannot have our home back, but we do well here. The others who now live near Erebor are not our concern.’
‘Aren’t they? Would they live in fear of Smaug’s return if he had never come?’ Thorin asked her. ‘He came for our gold, Dís. He had no interest in Dale, or Mirkwood, only Erebor.’
‘So why take on the guilt of their fate?’ Dís replied. ‘They enjoyed our wealth when it helped their city flourish, if they paid for it what fault is it of ours?’
A silence fell after she said this and Dís faltered slightly as it stretched onward.
‘We have all heard that argument,’ Thorin said calmly. ‘Heard it more than once. It was Thror’s argument and Thrain’s after him. I do not wish to end my life viewing the world as they did.’
‘I did not mean it like that,’ Dís told him softly. ‘You know I did not.’
‘I know,’ he assured her. ‘I know you better than that. Dís, I think the time has come to look beyond the suffering of our people. I do not suggest that we ignore it,’ he hastened to add. ‘We are responsible to our own first, as always; but I fear being so insular has hurt us. When Erebor fell, we looked to others for aid and were stunned when none could be found. Yet, what aid had we given when Dale suffered a poor harvest? Or when the Greenwood became infected with whatever disease ails it?’
‘Thorin, those decisions were not of your making. It was Thror who chose to demand the same tithe from Dale despite their losses. It was Thror who rejected Thranduil’s request for aid,’ Balin reminded him. ‘You weren’t even past your majority when these things happened.’
The atmosphere in the kitchen was heavy and Thorin wished it did not have to be so. He hated having to blame his family for the problems that had afflicted their people. Unfortunately, Mahal had been most insistent in pointing out where Thorin’s line had gone wrong and upon reflection Thorin had had to agree. With this in mind he added,
‘I was not responsible, but I ought to have objected. Even if it had brought their wrath upon me, I ought to have reminded them that alliances go both ways. Thror was gold-mad and power hungry and I knew it and yet said nothing. The boys are not much older now than I was then, but they know what is right. Dís has made sure of it. I would want them to object if I tried to treat allies as they were once treated in Erebor.’
‘He is right,’ Dwalin surprised them all by saying. ‘Not about the elves, in my opinion, but the men of Dale were good friends to us. You have said that Girion expressed concerns about Thror’s decision to store so much wealth in Erebor and that he objected when Dale’s tithe was raised again and again. He deserved the courtesy of being listened to, but we all know that he was not.’
Against that neither Balin nor Dís could argue. Thorin was relieved that that part of the battle might soon be won. Whether that would lead to his success in the war to get their support for his plans he did not know.
‘I believe Thranduil, too, deserved a fair hearing, though he did not receive one. I also know that if any king of Men or Elves demanded that I pay homage before them for the privilege of maintaining an alliance I would sooner break it than agree. I have to respect the way Girion and Thranduil set their pride aside to help their people, though I may not have to like them,’ Thorin began again.
At this, Balin nodded his agreement. He had had great respect for Girion, though he had been too young to have dealt with the Lord of Dale overmuch. Then, he decided that the conversation had wandered long enough.
‘Thorin, we have come far from our original point. You wish for our support for a plan to reclaim Erebor. I would know exactly why you plan this before I agree.’
‘Very well,’ Thorin allowed, ‘we have gone the roundabout route I will admit. No, Dwalin,’ he said as Dwalin looked ready to speak, ‘there is absolutely no need to comment on my sense of direction.’
Dwalin muttered something impolite under his breath but restrained himself to that alone. Thankful for small mercies, Thorin continued.
‘In short, I would reclaim Erebor to see the dragon dead. He has caused much suffering and that will only be ended by his death. I believe it is the duty of our line to see this done, for it was Thror’s sickness, and Father’s and my reluctance to act, which brought him to Erebor in the first place. I also feel that it is important that our people have a safe place to live, and to prosper, and that we work towards this by renewing old alliances which should not have been allowed to fade as they did.’
‘I can agree with much of that,’ Dís told him. ‘You are right, if it was our line who brought doom upon the East, then it is only right that we should seek to undo what has been done. I do not have your attachment to Erebor, however. We have a good life in Ered Luin, yet you say we cannot prosper here.’
Here, Thorin looked to Balin for his answer. The other dwarf had a better memory for numbers than any he had ever met, though he suspected Ori and Glóin came close.
‘Balin, how many children were born in Erebor in the year before it fell?’
At this question, Balin understood Thorin’s point only too well. He sagged slightly, sadness overcoming him.
‘Nearly 250,’ Balin said slowly, unsurprised to hear Dís gasp. Such a figure was astonishingly high for those who lived in Ered Luin.
‘And last year? In Ered Luin?’ Thorin persisted, wanting to ensure his point was fully understood.
'10,’ Balin replied. ‘It ought to have been 12, but Girti’s babe was stillborn and Hruth lost both his wife and the babe she bore.’
‘We are a dying race, Dís,’ her brother informed her. ‘We live here and we get by, but we do not prosper.’
‘You think we will do better in Erebor?’ Dís asked fiercely, heartbroken from hearing the facts laid out so baldly.
‘I do,’ Thorin responded.
‘Then you have my support. If you go to Erebor I will go with you or remain behind to rule, as you choose.’
Welcome as Dís’ support was, Thorin was surprised that she had even offered to stay behind. Last time they had worried that only tying her to a tree would convince her to accept Thorin’s insistence that she could not come with him.
‘I would feel a great deal more comfortable,’ Thorin answered her, ‘if I left knowing that you guarded Ered Luin and its people.’
‘Then I will remain,’ his sister swore solemnly, ‘and I will ensure that the people you call home to Erebor are healthy and whole and ready for the task of rebuilding what was lost. So I, Dís, daughter of Thrain, son of Thror, promise to you my King.’
Rising from the table and crossing to his sister, Thorin allowed himself a moment of sentimentality and kissed her forehead as he had often done when they were younger.
‘Your King is glad to hear it,’ he told her gently, ‘and your brother is as proud as any upon this earth at this moment.’
They stood there for a moment, foreheads resting together, then parted and returned to the table. Looking at Balin and Dwalin, Thorin hoped that their answers would be so favourable.
‘I am with you, laddie,’ Balin said at length. ‘I placed my faith in you many years ago and you have it still.’
Dwalin’s answer, as Thorin had expected, was rather more prosaic.
‘Well, I’m not letting you go with only Balin to guard you,’ the guardsman growled. ‘Between the two of you, you’d lose your way half a dozen times and be found ten years hence in some poor merchant’s library, reading a manuscript no one else gives a damn about.’
‘A heart-warming sentiment, Brother, as always!’ Balin exclaimed, rolling his eyes. The punch he gave his brother was affectionate nevertheless, and Thorin was glad to see it. He might have a task worthy of song ahead of him, but these two would not let him get his head too far into the clouds. Not if he actually listened to them this time.
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