Chapter Text
Chapter Four
Bella wandered into the dining room the next morning and was greeted by Dori shouting at Dwalin.
“And just how long exactly have you been involved in a sordid affair with my baby brother!?”
Bella almost turned around and walked back out, because it was far, far too early to have to witness a blowup between her brothers, except that Thorin chose that very moment to enter the room behind her.
“What in Mahal’s name is going on?” the King demanded as he took in the sight of his entire Company tense, as if preparing for a great battle.
“Dori finally found out that Dwalin and Ori have been canoodling behind his back for months,” Glóin announced helpfully, and loudly.
“We have not been canoodling,” Dwalin protested.
“Our relationship is not sordid, Dori,” Ori snapped a second later, “We’re getting married!”
Bella’s eyes widened and nearly everyone else froze in shock. Dori went pale as milk and looked like he was going to pass out.
Nori recovered first and he stalked toward the couple, looking every bit as dangerous as they all knew he could be, “What? He hasn’t even presented you with a courting gift.”
“Yes, he has,” Ori admitted, “Just a few minutes ago. That’s why we were… um…”
“Snogging on the table for everyone to see?” Kíli finished for him, “A bit disturbing that was; you know that we have to eat in here.”
“Then where is it?” Nori questioned heatedly, “And why didn’t Mister Dwalin first announce his intentions to Dori, like he was supposed to?”
“Because I told him not to!” Ori retorted, “Because I knew that you and Dori would be completely impossible! You don’t care that he makes me happy; you just want to keep me tucked away like a child forever! Do you really think that I haven’t noticed how you try to keep me in the dark every time something goes wrong? I’m marrying Dwalin, whether the two of you like it or not!”
Dori and Nori just stared at their little brother, as if for the first time seeing someone other than a naïve, kind, and gentle child with a penchant for the written word. Bella rather figured that it was about time.
“Well,” Bella said with as much cheer as she could muster, “I suppose that we had better get started with planning a wedding. We have until a year from today, correct?”
Thorin had been the one to tell her, after presenting her with his paternal great-grandmother’s diamond and ruby ring, that according to dwarven law, a couple had to be married within a year of becoming betrothed to one another. If they did not, their betrothal was no longer considered valid and, if the two still wished to be wed to one another, they would have to complete all of the engagement rites over again.
After the elder in the pairing presented the younger with a courting gift, one that had to indicate both financial stability and a keen eye for quality, (which was typically done only after first announcing their intentions to the head of the other’s family), and it was accepted, the first set of marriage beads were exchanged. After this, three sets of gifts, the Offerings of Devotion, were traded between the betrothed couple. Each partner would then offer their intended’s family a Gift of Goodwill and Honor and then the two families would come together to throw a grand feast for the soon-to-be wedded pair, (unless, of course, the two families were feuding for one reason or another). Finally, during the wedding ceremony itself, the second set of marriage beads would be braided into the locks of the happy couple, for everyone present to witness.
Thorin’s great-grandparents had to go through the rites three times before they were finally wed, due to their parents’ desperation to keep the two from marrying in the first place. Bella had been sure that she and Thorin would not suffer such difficulty; she only wished that she had thought to account for the lure of gold.
She still had the ring, wrapped up in a handkerchief at the bottom of her pack. Thorin hadn’t demanded its return that day on the battlements and Bella hadn’t thought to give it back to him. She really probably should, even if her heart ached at the very idea. It was an heirloom of the King’s family and really did not belong in her keeping. She could get away with not giving the mithril coat back, because its function was to protect her, but the ring was a symbol of a love that no longer existed. At least not on Thorin’s part.
Ori and Dwalin gave her matching looks of gratitude.
“We shall have to have a party to celebrate,” Bella continued, “I’ll finally be able to make use of my new kitchen.”
“Do Hobbits usually throw a party when two people become engaged?” Kíli asked.
“Hobbits throw parties for everything, Kee, but yes,” Bella said.
“So,” Bofur drawled out, “What did Dwalin give you, Ori?”
Ori produced a small, platinum-bound book encrusted with aquamarine from the pocket of his robe. From what Bella could see, its pages appeared to be made of solid gold instead of actual paper. Ori pulled it close to his chest, close to his heart.
“Dwalin wrote me a book,” Ori revealed with a sappy smile directed toward the warrior-dwarf. Dwalin returned it eagerly.
It was, quite possibly, the most perfect gift that Dwalin could have given to Ori, and Bella was proud of Dwalin for thinking of it. Anyone who believed that Dwalin had no heart was an idiot of the highest caliber.
“That is an absolutely lovely gift,” Bella praised upon seeing it.
“It is,” Fíli agreed, “Now how about we all eat breakfast before it goes cold?”
Slowly, everyone managed to sit themselves down in their respective chairs. Ori sat down next to Dwalin, across from Kíli. Bella took her usual spot between Erebor’s two princes. Dori and Nori sat as far away from Dwalin as they possibly could. As the meal progressed, Bofur often leaned over to say something to Nori, probably trying to get the trickster dwarrow to smile by telling him jokes. It eventually began to work and Nori relaxed more and more.
Dori, on the other hand, remained tense throughout breakfast, until he finally left early, stating that he needed to finish some things up in his teashop. Bella frowned as he left, fights between family members were bound to occur at some point, she knew, but she didn’t have to like it.
“You’ll be with Dwalin today,” Fíli told her a minute later, “If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Bella replied.
“I know that yer probably lookin’ forward to wearing what Dori had made up for you,” Dwalin said, “But it’d be best if you saved wearin’ yer fine new clothes for this afternoon. We’re gonna be trainin’ some of Erebor’s wannabe guards this morning.”
Bella grinned in delight.
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Bella was not amongst the most skilled fighters that Dwalin had ever trained, at least not yet. He had no doubt that, one day, she would be. She was stubborn and determined and driven, driven by her deep desire to be able to defend those that she loved.
Dwalin remembered with ease the day when Fíli first began teaching her to properly use Sting. They had been recuperating at Beorn’s when Bella had asked the prince to instruct her in the proper way of handling her little letter opener. The lad had been thrilled to do so, but everyone had quickly realized that Bella would have been better off asking someone else to teach her, no matter how accomplished Fíli was with his own blades.
Fíli was terrified of hurting his little sister and it showed in his training of her. He went so far as to pretend to lose the grip on his makeshift sword, they were using long sticks instead of actual weapons, to avoid smacking her in the thigh with it. This was the point when the rest of the Company, who had all been watching, openly or otherwise, decided that they had to speak up.
Bella did so first.
“What are you doing?” She had demanded in indignation, hands on her hips.
“Training you?” Fíli had replied, as if unsure that this was the appropriate answer.
“Really?” Bella had said in a wholly unimpressed voice, “So if I jump in front of another orc, he’ll drop his weapon to avoid giving me a bruise? That’s remarkably civil of him.”
Thorin had choked around the pipe he had been smoking; his eyes alight with true amusement.
She had only the day before saved his King from his own idiocy, (facing Azog and a dozen other orcs by himself while everyone else dangled from a Mahal-damned tree, what was that dunderhead thinking), so Dwalin had already decided that she belonged with the Company and was someone that he and the others could trust, but her dressing-down of Fíli permanently put Bella on the list of people that Dwalin cared about. It was a fairly short list, although it had grown during the course of the Quest.
Fíli had stepped up his game then and begun teaching her properly. She progressed quickly, more so than any of them believed that she would. Dwalin had been puzzled by her dogged resolution to fight, especially since she had been so reluctant to take Sting when Gandalf offered the elven dagger to her in the first place. The truth came out following a question from Beorn.
The skinchanger had been showing Bella around his garden and Dwalin, and all of the others too, had been secretly following them to make sure that the bear-man wasn’t planning on trying anything funny when Beorn asked, “Don’t you miss your home, Little Bunny, and your kin?”
“My kin are here with me,” Bella had replied instantly, “And no, I don’t miss the Shire, not like I probably should anyway. It’s almost funny, how I never realized how much I hated my life until I was thrust into a new one. It’s like I was wearing a mask for years, letting my relatives press me into a mold of respectability, and then I was suddenly allowed to be myself. I… I was truly free for the first time since I was a fauntling. I’m happier traveling through the Wildes with the Company than I ever was in Bag End.”
“I suppose that these dwarves cannot be so bad then,” Beorn had mused, “If they have been so good for you.”
“They’re not bad at all,” Bella had insisted, “They’re all quite wonderful, really. They saved me from myself and I will see their home returned to them.”
“And what will you do then?” Beorn had inquired.
“I don’t know,” Bella admitted, “But I can’t go back to the Shire. Not after all of this; and I don’t want to. But even if I did, I doubt that they’d let me back. Hobbits are, for the most part, racist and prejudiced and very, very set in their ways. I’m a rather poor example of my people, you see. At best, they’d just pretend I didn’t exist. I don’t imagine that I want to go very far from the Company anyway, as I’m much too fond of them.”
Bella was willing to cast aside the expectations and resolutions of her entire race for them, was willing to take up arms for them. This had been the point when Dwalin realized that he loved her and, Mahal, if this was how Balin felt all the time, then he owed his older brother so many apologies for the stunts he had pulled over the years.
Dwalin had started teaching her basic self-defense that eve. Kíli decided to show her how to shoot with a bow a few days later. Nori cottoned on to her natural skill with things that she could throw, like rocks and pinecones, and helped her learn to adapt this to the little knives she had brought along with her and had been delighted by how well she did. Thorin had shown her how she could fight with them in close combat too. Glóin had been making plans to teach her how to fight with an axes and how to throw spears.
Bella had eagerly anticipated the lessons, no matter how sore they made her. She had put her new abilities to the test in Mirkwood, when she saved them all from the Spiders. Dwalin had been quite proud when she had boldly declared that she had given her little blade a name in the aftermath.
“We’ll be using staves today. Fifty attacks and fifty blocks each,” Dwalin announced to the group of dwarves gathered in one of Erebor’s smaller practice rings. There weren’t enough of them to justify using the main pitch, which was large enough to allow a thousand dwarves to practice at once. One day, but not today, “Namad, you’re with me.”
Bella caught the Blackwood, steel-tipped staff that Dwalin threw easily and spent a moment examining the markings carved into it.
“Why are there protective runes on this?” Bella questioned, making some of the dwarves within earshot stiffen. Dwalin understood why, members of other races were only very rarely permitted even limited knowledge of Khuzdûl.
“Get to practicin’ now,” Dwalin barked at them before turning to Bella as they scurried to do as he ordered, “Most dwarven-fashioned weapons have such on ‘em. A reminder that these tools are meant only to defend kith and kin and not to harm innocents.”
Bella nodded in appreciation, “I bashed an orc over the head with a walking stick a few months ago, because I couldn’t get to Sting, but it never occurred to me to use a staff as a primary weapon.”
“They usually aren’t,” Dwalin told her, “But in the heat of battle, anything can be a weapon, as you learned. I assume that you killed the piece of filth that came after ya’.”
“He’s very, very dead,” Bella agreed, “I made sure.”
Good. Anything and everything that dared to come after Bella was going to end up just as dead if Dwalin had anything to say about it. Dwalin shifted into a battle stance and Bella copied him without being prompted.
“I’m gonna attack,” Dwalin instructed, “You anticipate and block.”
“So,” Bella asked a minute later, as she successfully blocked Dwalin’s staff with her own for the sixth time, “Do you know why Dáin had a black eye at dinner last night?”
“Our King beat the snot out of him a few days ago,” Dwalin told her, “He called it ‘sparring’, but everybody knows that Dáin was being punished for lyin’ about you.”
“Thorin won then,” Bella said, “Since he was obviously uninjured at dinner.”
“Aye, he won alright,” Dwalin replied, “Dáin was all but carried out of this very ring when it was all said and done.”
“Why was Thorin so upset?” Bella wondered.
Dwalin raised an eyebrow at her, “He thought you were dead for months because of that fool. If I’d been allowed, I’d have kicked the crap out of Dáin too.”
Dwalin could see that his little sister still didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her, wanted to tell her that Thorin was every bit as in love with her as he ever had been. But no, he and the others had sworn that they would let Bella and Thorin work things out between themselves. No matter that it would probably take till the remaking of the world for the pair to do so.
Dwalin feigned left and managed to break through Bella’s defenses, smacking her right arm hard enough for her to lose her balance and fall over. Bella gave him a chagrinned smile as she got back on her feet, raising her staff again. Many of the dwarves around them seemed to support her quick return to action. Most, but not all.
Dwalin noticed then that one dwarf in particular was sneering at Bella more openly than anyone else. Grijak wasn’t from the Iron Hills or the Blue Mountains. His family had originally been from Erebor but they had separated from the rest of Durin’s folk after Smaug had driven them all from the Mountain. Grijak’s family, one of Erebor’s noble families back then, had gone to live with some of their merchant kin in the South and only Grijak had so far returned to Erebor. He certainly wasn’t one of the best of Dwalin’s new recruits, his sword work was mediocre at best, but he did have some talent with knives.
Still, Bella could best him in a fight. And that gave Dwalin an idea.
“Did ya’ bring yer knives down here with ya’, lassie?” Dwalin asked her.
“Of course,” Bella responded, “They’re always on me if I can help it.”
Dwalin approved of this, “Grijak! Get over here!”
Grijak approached him eagerly, “Yes, Captain?”
“My sister needs someone to spar against her and her knives. Do you think that you can handle it?”
Grijak sputtered, “Of course I can handle it, Sir, but surely someone else more suited to her skill level would be better, Captain, as I could unintentionally harm her.”
Bella raised an eyebrow at the slight but refrained from commenting. Her response would not be vocal, but would be the thrashing Grijak was about to receive. Fíli and Kíli had been right about her from the beginning; she was a true Warrior Princess.
“Neither the King nor Lord Nori are available, so you’ll have to do,” Dwalin retorted.”
Grijak frowned but withdrew his knives. Bella gave Dwalin a look, one that clearly told him that she would be expecting an explanation for all of this later, but she flipped out her knives too with two simultaneous flicks of her wrists. They had been hidden under her sleeves and no one, save Dwalin, had suspected that they were there. Elven holsters had their uses after all, it seemed. Not that Dwalin would be getting himself any. Ori might like one though. He would have to speak to Tauriel about it.
The knives were pretty little things, clearly Elven made. They appeared to have been forged as complements to Sting, with almost identical markings on their blades as those that Bella’s letter opener sported. Dwalin wondered if they, like Sting and Orcrist, would glow blue if orcs or goblins were near.
Grijak moved into position and Bella followed suit. Dwalin raised his arm and then brought it back down quickly, “Azighrib!”
Grijak lunged at Bella with a ferocity that Dwalin would have approved of, had it been directed toward anyone else but his little sister. Grijak reached where Bella had been only to suddenly realize that she had disappeared. Mahal, Dwalin had forgotten how fast Bella could be, because she had moved behind Grijak and managed to point one of her knives at the dwarf’s back in the time it took to blink. This was the same speed that had saved the line of Durin during the Battle; Bella had killed Bolg while Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli lay injured, (but not mortally, thank the Valar), behind her. If Azog’s spawn had not stood a chance then neither did a spoiled lordling with less than half of Bolg’s talent.
If the rest of the dwarves present had not already been watching intently, they definitely were now. Grijak figured out what had happened, a bit more slowly than Dwalin would have been happy about, (battles could be won or lost in the span of seconds, after all), and spun around in anger, one of his knives meeting hers. At the sharp ringing of steel meeting steel, the fight truly began.
Grijak leapt and swiped and charged at her repeatedly, while Bella danced around him, moving to a melody only she could hear or understand. She circumvented his attacks every single time, dodging his blades and evading his larger form with ease, wearing him down in less than a quarter hour. Finally, she saw an opening and took it, pinning Grijak down into the dirt of the ring, one knife positioned against his throat and the other pressing upon the wrist of his dominant hand. She was basically on top of him, her right knee holding his chest in place while her left boot kept Grijak’s right hand from rising up.
“Itkhizh!” Dwalin instructed, and Bella rose away from Grijak immediately, sheathing her knives in a swift motion that would have made Nori envious, “Well done, Namad.”
“She didn’t fight me at all!” Grijak roared in protest as he stood, “She let me do all the ruddy work!”
“Of course I did,” Bella replied coldly, “It’s one of the first lessons I was taught, ‘let your opponent wear themselves out and then go in for the kill’. How do you not know that?”
“I don’t fight unfairly,” Grijak snarled at her, practically vibrating with fury.
“Then learn to,” Bella snapped, “An orc will not fight fair. A goblin will not fight fair. You can’t either. When you’re in a battle, the only thing that matters is winning, because that’s the only way that those you love will endure when it’s over. War is not glorious or wonderful; it’s a bloody, terrifying mess. You either win or you die. Fight fair, Grijak, and you and those that you fight for will surely die.”
It was a harsh lesson, one that Dwalin had not yet realized that Bella had learned, and as much as he wished that she had never had to learn it, he was grateful that she had and that he didn’t have to be the one to teach it to her. When had she been forced to see this truth? During the Battle? Before? After? When had this piece of her innocence been lost? A large part of Dwalin didn’t really want to know.
A young dwarrow, one of the youngest in the Mountain, although he was of age, Dwalin knew, scurried up to them before Grijak could reply. It took a moment to recall that the lad, Frítzi, was serving as Thorin’s page.
“I’m sorry to interrupt practice, my Lord Dwalin,” the page said, “But His Majesty, the King, requests your presence in his quarters at once as a matter of urgency.”
Dwalin nodded at the boy sharply, Thorin would not call Dwalin to his side while practice was still going on unless the issue was truly important, “I’m on my way. Practice is ended for the day! I’ll see ya sorry saps on the morn after next. C’mon, Bella, I’ll take ya to yer rooms first.”
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“What’s goin’ on?” Dwalin asked at once as he entered Thorin’s study.
“Dáin has formally requested an audience with me. He’ll be here in just a few minutes,” Thorin explained, rising from the chair that he had been sitting in, “And I would rather that you were here for it, especially after what occurred between the two of us a few days ago.”
“Understood,” Dwalin cracked his knuckles. If Dáin made a single move that Dwalin didn’t like, he was going down.
“Let’s hope that I’m being overly cautious,” Thorin sighed, “So, have you figured out how to keep Ori’s brothers from killing you in your sleep?”
“Yer Majesty? Shut up.”
Thorin chuckled. Dwalin noticed that he looked more like himself than he had in ages. Healthier too. Just having Bella in the Mountain had relived so much of the stress that had been ever-present on the King’s face for months. Why didn’t Thorin just go and apologize to her already? Dwalin was seriously considering locking Thorin and Bella in a closet to see if that solved their issues. He wondered if barring one’s King inside a broom cupboard counted as treason if it was for a just cause. Probably, which was a bit disappointing.
A knock sounded, preceding Dáin entering the room. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked nervous. He looked even more apprehensive upon catching sight of Dwalin, which made the warrior vindictively pleased.
Thorin crossed his arms and asked without bothering with any pleasantries, “Why are you here, Dáin?”
“I’ve come to apologize to you, cousin,” Dáin admitted, “And to request an audience with the Sunrise Princess, so that I might apologize to her as well.”
“The Princess ain’t meetin’ with anybody by herself,” Dwalin growled out.
“I’d never presume to request anything of the like,” Dáin was quick to assure.
Dwalin just glared at him and cracked his knuckles again, making Dáin flinch a bit.
“The gold-sickness is gone,” Thorin remarked with quiet relief.
Dwalin examined Dáin more closely. The Lord of the Iron Hills appeared to be deeply ashamed and also, Dwalin realized, his eyes were free of the terrible gleam that had been ever-present for months. The thrall was gone from him. And about time too.
“Yes,” Dáin said, “You rather beat it out of me, cousin, and I thank you for it. I… I’m sorry. My actions, my thoughts even, they were truly despicable. I beg you for your forgiveness, Thorin, my King.”
“I would be the worst kind of hypocrite,” Thorin replied, “If I could not forgive you, my cousin. I am glad to see you returned to your senses and back on my side.”
“I shall ever be mortified that I gave you cause to doubt me,” Dáin remarked solemnly, “And I will make it up to you, if it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear this to you.”
“Protect the Princess for as long as you both reside in Erebor,” Thorin told him, “And I shall consider it done.”
“With my life,” Dáin vowed, “May I apologize to her in person?”
Thorin looked at Dwalin.
“I’ll speak to ‘er,” Dwalin said after a minute of looking Dáin over with narrowed eyes, “But it’ll her choice whether or not she sees ya. I won’t stand for her ever bein’ coerced into anythin’ ever again.”
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After Dwalin had dropped her off in her rooms, Bella had gone to her bathroom straight away, stripping off her sweaty clothes, and stepping down into the hot water that constantly swirled through her tub. There was a bench all along the edges that Bella could sit on as she washed and she did so for several long minutes, letting the warmth soothe her muscles. She had not fought like she just had in some time, not since destroying the Ring, and she was surprised at how much she had missed it, missed the feeling of her blood pumping through her veins.
She scrubbed herself spotless with a bar of rose-scented soap and cleaned her red-gold curls with the matching oil. Once she was as clean as she was going to get, Bella wandered through her bedroom and into her closet to select an outfit.
Underwear and then an undershirt of crisp white linen embroidered with tiny white flowers were slipped on first. Her mithril coat was next and then Bella put on a pair of long, emerald green trousers made of thick muslin. A silver silk shirt, with three-tiered puffed sleeves, covered the mithril and a silver and green waistcoat of velvet brocade went over the shirt.
Bella had earlier discovered that Dori really had ordered a pair of boots for every outfit crafted for her, so she pulled on the pair that had silver maple leaves, which matched those on her vest, stamped into the black leather. Her only jewelry was a silver and emerald hair comb, which she used to pin her hair up, and her ever-present bracelets.
She exited her suite to find Arnura and Arníra outside her doors.
“I’m going to the Silver Raven,” she told them, “I expect that you’ll be coming along?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Arnura replied, “Wandering alone would be unsafe.”
“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly,” Bella said, “Let’s go then. I need to speak to Dori as soon as possible.”
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The Silver Raven was a work of art, which was less of a surprise than one might expect, seeing as how Dori had been the one to design it. The entire shop was carved from a single enormous block of grey marble, like all of the little shops in the Southern quarter of Erebor’s Royal Bazaar, and had over a hundred silver fillings of ravens, outside and inside. Thick crimson curtains framed the two large windows at the tea store’s front.
When Bella found him, Dori was sitting at an ornately-carved stone table, in a matching chair with red velvet cushions, gazing despondently at the cup of tea, which certainly had to be cool as there was no steam rising from it, in his hands.
“Nadad?” Bella spoke softly, causing Dori to look up at her at once.
“Bella!” Dori cried in surprise, “Where’s Dwalin? He’s supposed to be looking after you.”
“Thorin needed him,” Bella revealed, “So he saw me back to my suite and then I decided to come here to see you. I know that the events of this morning were a bit of a shock for you.”
“You came alone?” Dori worried.
“No,” Bella denied, “Arnura and Arníra escorted me and are waiting outside in case I need them. Not that I need an escort, thank you very much. But I didn’t come here to discuss that, let’s talk about Ori and Dwalin.”
Dori heaved a great sigh, “Ori’s too young to be getting married.”
“He’s of age,” Bella said neutrally, taking a seat opposite her brother, “And he’s proven himself several times over, in battle even. He’s not so young as to not understand his own heart.”
Dori seemed to crumple in on himself, “Yes, I… I know. But why did it have to be Dwalin? He’s nothing like Ori.”
“They’re more alike than you realize,” Bella disagreed, “They’re both younger brothers and fierce warriors, they’re both brave and loyal to a fault, and they both love their kin desperately. And I think that, with time, you’ll come to see, as the rest of us have, that the differences that they do have compliment one another quite nicely.”
“Are Nori and I the only ones who didn’t realize that the two of them cared about each other so deeply?” Dori moaned.
“I knew,” sounded a new voice, and Nori literally dropped down from the ceiling, claiming the third chair at the table, “I just thought it would take much longer for either one of them to do anything about it. Apparently Ori has picked up on more of my tricks than either of us realized, Dori.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Dori demanded.
Nori shrugged, “I guess I didn’t want to make an issue out of something that I didn’t believe would ever amount to anything anytime soon.”
Bella snorted, “You sorely underestimated our brother then.”
“Yes,” Nori acknowledged, “I won’t do so again.”
Dori huffed and rose, moving behind the bar to fix some more tea, “We’re going to have to have no choice but to give Dwalin our blessing, aren’t we?”
“If you want Ori to speak to you again sometime this century, yes,” Bella said wryly, “Honestly, he could do so much worse than Dwalin. He told me about all those awful lords in Ered Luin who just wanted him because he’s pretty.”
Dori spun around and demanded at the same time as Nori, “What lords?”
“Um… the lords who served the king of the Blue Mountains,” Bella answered with a slight wince, “But there’s no reason to get upset about them, they’ll have little reason to abandon Ginnar and come to Erebor. Ori’s quite safe from them.”
There was no need to mention that these lords were what had prompted Ori to go behind his brothers’ backs and sign up for the Quest in the first place. Bella would keep that particular tidbit to herself. Really, it was for the best.
Dori seemed slightly mollified, and he brought over three cups of hot tea that smelled like cherries and vanilla, which he then passed out.
Nori did not, “Ginnar could send one or more of those bastards here for diplomatic reasons.”
“Then it’s a rather good thing that Ori will have Dwalin, the King’s Right-Hand, around to keep them away from him,” Bella said blithely, sipping at her tea, “This is very good, Dori, very good, indeed.”
Not that Ori really needed anyone to defend him; Bella had seen how well Ori could wield most weapons, even if the scribe preferred his slingshot. But Bella was not above portraying Dwalin as a knight in shining armour to get Dori and Nori to approve, at least somewhat anyway, of the gruff warrior courting their baby brother.
“I’m glad, it’s going to be one of the Silver Raven’s signature blends,” Dori told her, “And I suppose that you’re right, about Dwalin.”
“I still think that he’s boring as hell,” Nori commented, “He’s such a stickler for the rules.”
“Well, that’s not such a bad thing,” Dori chided, “And it would probably be good for Ori to be around someone so straight-laced.”
Success was sweet. Almost as sweet as the fantastic tea she was drinking.
A knock sounded before Nori could argue and the three looked up to see Dwalin standing in the doorway, appearing a bit nervous, “Er, sorry to interrupt. I was told by the guards that Bella was here.”
“Do you think that me beating up Grijak will mean that I no longer need guards?” Bella asked eagerly.
“No,” Dwalin said definitely, bursting her bubble, and then he hastily added upon seeing Dori and Nori’s flabbergasted expressions, “It was just a trainin’ exercise. To show the others in the Mountain how well Bella can fight. Bella sparred with Grijak usin’ her knives and won.”
“Course she did,” Nori replied proudly, “Excellent job, Namadith.”
Bella blushed a bit, “Thanks, but I do believe I owe my success to the Company. You all were rather diligent at teaching me during the Quest.”
“Yer welcome to join me and the princes every other mornin’, Bella,” Dwalin offered.
“I think that I shall,” Bella accepted, “The exercise will be good for me and I could stand to become better with Sting.”
Dwalin turned to Dori and Nori then, “I owe the two of you an apology. I shouldn’t have kissed Ori so openly before speakin’ to ya first, so I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for courtin’ him in the first place. I love him, more than anythin’. Ori didn’t want me to ask, he said that it was old-fashioned, but I’d like to have yer blessin’ all the same.”
Dori studied him for a long minute before jerking his head in acceptance, “Very well then, Mister Dwalin, you have it. I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you,” Dwalin replied gratefully and looked at Nori.
Nori grinned slyly, “Well, at least you won’t be able to arrest me anymore without pissing Ori off.”
“You had better not give him a reason to, Nori,” Dori scolded, “There’s no reason for any of that kind of business to occur anymore.”
Nori just shrugged and kept on smirking.
“Dáin wants to speak to ya,” Dwalin told Bella then, “He wants to apologize.”
“He what?” Nori questioned, and Bella couldn’t find fault in his disbelief since she was rather taken aback as well.
“The gold-thrall has been broken,” Dwalin explained as Dori handed him a silver-edged cup of his own, “And he wishes to make amends for the things he did while under it. He apologized to the King and now wishes to do the same to our sister.”
Bella bit her bottom lip. Did she want to go anywhere near Dáin Ironfoot? No, a thousand times ‘no’. But would it be better for Thorin and the Company if she were to allow Dáin to ask for forgiveness? Probably, and it would probably be even better if she were to accept his apology too. And there really was nothing that she would not do for them, was there?
“I’ll see him,” Bella finally announced.
“You don’t have to,” Dwalin said gently, “No one will blame you if you wish to stay far away from Dáin after what he’s done.”
“I’ve forgiven others for worse,” Bella said in a tone that brooked no argument, “I can forgive him.”
She didn’t have to explain to them that the ‘others’ she spoke of was in reality just Thorin, even though he had yet to actually apologize to her and perhaps never would. They already knew of whom she spoke of.
“How do you feel about peridot, Mister Dwalin?” Dori inquired, a blatant attempt to change the subject that Bella appreciated.
“Er…” Dwalin blinked, “It’s a nice gemstone and I know that Ori favors it and aquamarine more than others.”
“Yes, well, I think that Ori would look quite fine in an outfit studded with peridot for the marriage ceremony,” Dori said, “Don’t you?”
“Ori’d look wonderful in anythin’ to me,” Dwalin answered and Bella knew that he was being entirely truthful.
And that was how Ori found the four of them an hour later, drinking delicious tea, eating cherry tarts, and discussing what shade of off-white the tablecloths and napkins for the wedding ought to be. Bella just grinned at his utter shock over her fourth cup of Dori’s magnificent tea.
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Translations
- Itkhizh- Stop
- Azighrib- Attack