Chapter Text
Chapter Ten
A part of Bella had expected there to be chaos in the wake of the assassination attempt. She hadn’t expected the sheer, unadulterated horror that swept over nearly everyone in Dale as they learned of what had occurred.
Several people had noticed Bella’s mad dash to Thorin’s side and had turned to find out why she appeared to be so frantic and they, subsequently, saw the arrow pierce the back of her gown and presumably, because they had no way of knowing better, her shoulder as well. News of the event spread faster than even the most frenzied dragonfire; even as Thorin pulled Bella into one of the empty stores behind the nearest line of booths, Balin and Dís right behind them, people were beginning to panic.
“Balin, fetch Óin and Dwalin now!” Thorin’s voice was thick with desperate fear as he began to tear the right shoulder of Bella’s gown apart.
Balin immediately ran to do just that, before Bella could get out that Óin’s talents really weren’t necessary.
“Thorin,” Bella kept her voice low and soothing, “I’m fine, I promise. The arrow hit my diamond armor.”
“So it did,” Thorin breathed out, utterly relieved, as he saw this truth for himself, “Thank Mahal.”
“It may not have pierced your flesh, but you’ll still have one hell of a bruise tomorrow,” Dís remarked, her voice shaky with what Bella assumed was adrenaline, “That was no stray shot; the force behind it was too great for this to have been an accident.”
“There were three Dwarves up on one of the rooftops,” Bella revealed as Thorin pulled the arrow out of her armor and examined it, “I recognized one of them, though he wasn’t the archer.”
“You jumped in front of the arrow to save me,” Thorin’s tone was bland and his face expressionless, his words were a statement of fact rather than a question.
Bella answered him anyway, “Yes.” Thorin opened his mouth, but Bella cut him off, “Don’t you dare tell me that I shouldn’t have, because all you’ll accomplish by doing so is that you’ll have pissed me off and it won’t stop me from doing it again if need be.”
Thorin snapped his mouth shut in furious resignation as his sister snorted once in shocked amusement.
“Honestly, Thorin, I’m fine,” Bella sighed, shifting closer so that he could hold her properly, “A bruise is nothing and the armor you made me protected me from any real harm.”
“You would have stepped in front of that arrow even if you hadn’t been wearing the armor,” Thorin accused in a tight voice, his arms like steel bands as they cradled her.
There was no defense Bella could mount against that claim so she settled for saying, “Well, I was wearing my armor. And really, darling, the only time I’m not protected by either diamond or mithril is when I’m sleeping, or lollygagging about some part of the Royal Wing before luncheon, or, you know, bathing. So, the chances of me having to step in front of an arrow when I’m not wearing armor are really quite slim, Khaeluh.”
The room suddenly became very crowded as nearly all of Bella’s brothers, her sister, Thranduil, Bard, and his children rushed inside. They all looked absolutely terrified and wrathful and Bella wondered what, exactly, they had heard about the event.
“Three Dwarves tried to kill Thorin,” Bella explained quickly, to stave off the frantic questioning, “An arrow did hit me, but it hit my armor. I’m fine, Thorin’s fine, and you all need to calm down now.”
They didn’t look particularly calm, in the wake of Bella’s edict, but they did seem less terrified, so that was something.
“I want to see you shoulder,” Óin’s tone brooked no room for argument so Bella decided to gracefully give in and let him examine it.
“People are panicking,” Bard declared, relief plain to see in his eyes, “They believe that their Sunrise Princess has been murdered, struck in the heart with an arrow. They’re very upset.”
“It was my right shoulder,” Bella said with a slight frown. She believed Bard, she knew that the people of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood deeply cared for her, but it still mystified her. She was not the only one who had defied Sauron, after all, “Not my left. And I’m not injured. If you like, you can go tell them that I’m perfectly alright, that there was a minor crisis that is being dealt with, and that no one needs to worry.”
“A minor crisis?” Bard echoed, “You were shot.”
“Accidentally,” Bella rejoined, “Technically, anyway. Which is what you need to tell everyone. This could taint the rest of the fête otherwise.”
Bard nodded, marching out of the store, his cape swishing around, with Sigrid hot on his heels.
“When the culprits are arrested, they’ll have to stand trial,” Balin pointed out, “The truth will come out then.”
“At which point we’ll remind everyone that didn’t Bard lie to them,” Bella replied, “Shooting me was an accident. I wasn’t the target.”
“Your shoulder is going to ache terribly come morning,” Óin huffed at Bella, “It’s already starting to bruise, so I know it has to feel sore.”
“Yes, alright,” Bella conceded, “Not injured badly then.”
“You should not have been injured at all,” Thranduil snapped, and turned to Óin, “She needs to drink tea made from the bark of the White Willow; it will alleviate the pain almost entirely.”
Óin looked torn between gratitude and contempt at the suggestion, if it could be called that, so Bella spoke up, “My mother used to make it for me. I was often covered in bruises as a faunt, because I liked to romp around in the woods and climb trees so much.”
Óin nodded, “I’ll prepare some for you to drink tonight, lass.”
“I want to know who did this,” Dwalin said gruffly, his patience having worn out.
“Three Dwarves,” Bella illuminated, “Two of them I didn’t recognize, but the other… it was Lord Grijak.”
Dwalin growled furiously, “That fucking bastard! Thorin just returned his family’s title to him!”
“I recognized the other two,” Lací spoke up, “They were the Lords Zukarí and Iriní.”
“My sister and I saw them too,” Arnura added, “We didn’t recognize any of them, but we’ll be able to identify them if need be.”
“Why would they do something like this?” Tilda demanded tearfully as she clung to Bain’s arm.
“They meant to hurt Thorin,” Bella explained gently.
“But, why?” Tilda repeated.
“We don’t know exactly why yet,” Thorin told her in a soft voice, “But I imagine that they were angry about something; most likely about the Tri-Alliance, or at least my part in it.”
“Why do you think that?” Bain questioned.
“A Dwarf without any true knowledge of Elven weaponry, which is true of most Dwarrow, admittedly, would believe this arrow to be of Elven design,” Thorin commented, as he held up the arrow meant to kill him for everyone else to see, “Unfortunately-” Bella elbowed him in his side and he amended his statement quickly, “I mean, as providence would have it, I’m well aware that no Elf would ever fire an arrow such as this one. It bears no markings, either personal or of allegiance to a kingdom or cause. There are also no remnants of Elven Grace upon the shaft, fletching, or arrowhead either.”
“You can feel Elven Grace?” Thranduil questioned in surprise.
“Since you saved my life when I was a child, yes,” Thorin admitted.
Bella blinked in surprise; there was definitely one hell of a story behind that.
“I did not think that you remembered that,” Thranduil murmured. “You were very young.”
“When did this happen?” Dís demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Grandfather forbid it,” Thorin replied, and Bella saw understanding flash in Dís’ eyes. Thrór’s disdain for Elves was legendary even amongst Dwarves.
“Why can’t an Elf fire an arrow without markings?” Fíli asked.
“Because it would be an affront to Eru for an Elf to kill anyone, at least in battle or any other situation where the kill is planned, with an unmarked weapon,” Tauriel answered, “Because all life is sacred and there must be a reason for taking it. The markings are not always personal; Orcrist and Sting, for example, bear Elven markings that speak of an allegiance to a cause, specifically the divine protection of innocents against Orcs and Goblins. That is why they both glow near Orcs and Goblins, when most other Elven swords and daggers do not; they want to fulfill their purpose.
“Glamdring doesn’t glow,” Bella stated. “Neither do the daggers that Lord Elrond made me, though the markings on the knives are identical to Sting’s.”
“Glamdring’s purpose in Arda is different from Orcrist and Sting’s,” Thranduil interjected, “It was fated to find Mithrandir and shall only glow once, when the time is right. Your daggers will begin to glow as they age; they are young yet and Elrond’s magic has not fully settled into them.”
“What happens if you run out of arrows in a battle?” Glóin asked Tauriel.
“That is an extremely rare occurrence,” Tauriel told him, “Elven quivers are enchanted to call their arrows back into them once each arrow’s target has been killed.”
“That’s… impressive, lassie,” Glóin replied, with some surprise, though whether he was astonished by the magic of Elven quivers or his own admiration of said quivers, Bella couldn’t tell.
“So,” Bain was frowning at Thorin, looking remarkably like his father in that moment, “A trio of Dwarven lords tried to murder you with an arrow that most would assume was Elven in the middle of Dale. If their plot had succeeded… it would have ended the Tri-Alliance. It could have even sparked a war. What could they possibly have hoped to gain from that?”
“Not everyone is pleased about Erebor having tied itself so profoundly to Dale and the Greenwood,” Ori murmured, “There’s a minority of Dwarves in the Mountain, particularly those hailing from the traditionalist families, who would prefer that things go back to the way things were before.”
“You mean when everyone was scared, and cold, and hungry all the time?” Tilda wondered. “We wouldn’t have survived last winter if we hadn’t helped each other.”
“I never said that they were smart,” Ori shrugged.
“I have a question, well, two questions, technically,” Bofur spoke up, and when everyone looked at him, “Where’s Nori and why is he not here?”
“Sorry for being late to the party,” Nori announced, as if on cue, from the doorway, hauling two trussed-up Dwarves into the room and throwing them at Thorin’s feet. He had a small cut on his cheek, but that was nothing compared to the way the other two Dwarrow looked. “I was a bit preoccupied.”
“Those aren’t the Dwarves who were on the roof,” Bella noted.
“No,” Nori agreed, “These are their friends, the Lords Kumar and Jaksí, who were poised on another roof planning to murder Kíli.”
Bella felt the blood drain from her face and her breath hitched in her throat as she swung her eyes to Kíli, who was unharmed, of course he was, he had rushed into the building with all of the others worried about her. Her eyes flickered back to the half-unconscious Dwarves prone on the floor and felt a heated wrath begin to overtake her person; she had one of her knives flicked out into her palm before she even realized that she wanted it out.
Thorin grasped her wrist firmly, “No, Ghivashel. They have been subdued; we cannot kill them until they have received a trial.”
Fuck that, these bastards had planned to hurt, to kill her brother, to injure Kíli, who had taken one look at a damaged Hobbit from the Shire and decided that she was worth something, who had refused to pay any heed to decades worth of ingrained prejudice regarding the Quendi and had listened to the call of his heart as soon as he had heard it. They were just as dead as the sorry excuse for Dwarves that had meant to harm Thorin would be when Bella got her hands on them.
“Fine,” Bella retorted waspishly, “I promise that when I stab them in their throats, I’ll take care not to kill them.”
“No one is stabbing anybody,” Kíli spoke up, and Bella realized that he was holding on to Tauriel and Fíli, who both looked livid. Dís looked pretty damn angry as well, and Balin was the one holding her back, “Or shooting anybody. We’ll handle them once the festival is over; there’s been enough drama already today and we need to focus on calming everyone down. Our people will be looking to us, you know that they will.”
Kíli was right, of course. If the Royal Family of Erebor was furious and vengeful, so would the rest of the Dwarven populace be. And if the Dwarves were angry, the fragile accord between the three kingdoms could easily be swept away. Bella and her kin needed to exit the building, and soon, with their heads held high and with confident smiles on their faces. Anything less could spark a diplomatic nightmare.
“What about Grijak, Zukarí, and Iriní?” Dori fretted, “They’ll have run off in the confusion.”
“They won’t get far,” Dwalin swore lowly.
“Take Arnura and Arníra with you,” Thorin ordered, “Since they saw the Dwarves and can identify them. Nori, can you get these two into the dungeons without being seen?”
“Piece of cake,” Nori assured him.
“Excellent, please do so.” Thorin instructed, “For now, everyone except Bella and Dori needs to go outside and pretend that everything is perfectly alright. Further discussion can wait until tonight, understood?”
“Why am I staying in here?” Bella asked, flicking her knife back into its holster.
“Your gown,” Thorin reminded.
“Oh, right,” Bella replied as calmly as she was capable of in that moment, “You ripped it.”
“The arrow ripped it,” Thorin said.
“The arrow created a very tiny tear in it,” Bella countered dryly, “You tore the entire shoulder off in a panic.”
“You’d just been shot!” Thorin exclaimed without heat.
“I shan’t be able to fix it from in here,” Dori chimed in, “The damage to the fabric is too great.”
“Will this help?” Sigrid reentered the room, holding a shawl of white fur, “As long as it stays wrapped around your shoulders, the tear will be hidden and it will appear as if your dress was fixed and you simply became chilled.” Sigrid handed the shawl to Bella, “Da thinks it best if you come out as soon as possible, Bella, so that everyone can see for themselves that you’re alright. Half of the people out there still think that you’re dead.”
“Oh,” Bella breathed in a huff, “Wonderful. Dori, can you help me pin this in place?”
“Of course, dear,” Dori answered.
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“Well?” Thorin demanded from his place on Bella’s sofa as Dwalin and Nori entered Bella’s suite. Bella was cradled in his lap, drawing something on parchment, looking for all the world as if she weren’t upset by the day’s tumultuous events at all.
Dwalin knew better though, he could see how tight her grip on her lead pen was, could see, too, how she had positioned herself so that her body was blocking Thorin’s left side, was protecting his heart, and he’d seen how her gaze flickered over to Kíli at least three times since Dwalin had entered her sitting room. His fierce little sister, ready to do anything to protect her loved ones, even dive in front of flying arrows.
“All five of the would-be assassins are sittin’ pretty in the dungeons,” Dwalin reported as he flopped ungracefully down into one of the room’s fancy, but strong, chairs, “They confessed to everything too.”
“Really?” Bella sounded incredulous.
“They had a bit of persuasion to help ‘em along, of course,” Dwalin admitted.
Bella’s eyes caught sight of the red staining his hands and she raised an eyebrow at him, “I see. How much ‘persuasion’, exactly, was required before they gave in?”
Dwalin shrugged, “Enough.”
Bella nodded in acceptance of that and turned her attention back to her sketch. Apparently, Bella’s qualms about torture as an interrogation technique were dismissed entirely when those being questioned had previously attempted to hurt her family. Dwalin wasn’t surprised by this; Bella’s opinions about a great many things had changed radically for the sake of her kin.
“Did they deign to tell you why they planned to kill my sister-son and me?” Thorin wanted to know.
“Aye,” Dwalin hesitated before revealing, “They wanted to rid Erebor of those who, and I’m quoting Grijak, the mastermind of the whole plot, here, ‘would dare to taint the purity of Durin’s Folk by marryin’ outsiders.’”
“Durin’s wife was a Hobbit,” Fíli pointed out, “So, if you think about it, the line of Durin has never been pure. It’s always had Hobbit blood in it.”
“Grijak and his associates are convinced that Ori made that discovery up,” Nori replied from his perch on the back of Bofur’s chair, “Your brother and uncle were not their only targets, Fíli, just their first. They had a list; we were all on it.”
“Because you all claimed me as your sister,” Bella deduced, frowning.
“Because they’re fucking morons,” Dwalin retorted, “And they’re gonna pay for their idiocy, I can promise you that.”
“There’s something else,” Nori illuminated, “Grijak is the one who tipped the Master off about Bella going to Dale the day that the two of you were kidnapped, Thorin.”
“What?” Thorin voice was nothing but ire and the furious need for vengeance.
“I suppose we really ought to thank him then,” Bella quipped lightly, placing a calming hand on Thorin’s cheek, “Since you could have continued on being a stubborn dunderhead for much longer otherwise.”
Thorin settled somewhat under Bella’s gentle caresses and firmly told her, “There is no circumstance in which I will ever be grateful to someone who endangered your life.”
“What will happen to them?” Tauriel asked. She was all but clinging to Kíli, and Dwalin could see the anger simmering just below the surface of her cool mask.
“There will be a trial,” Balin answered, “Though, at this point, it shall be nothing more than mere formality. There is only one appropriate punishment for the attempted murder of a member of the Royal Family and that is death by the axe.”
“Will the executions be public?” Bella questioned, passing the parchment in her hand over to Ori to examine.
“They were public in the Blue Mountains,” Glóin remarked, “But, these will be the first in Erebor since the reclaiming.”
“They were public in my grandfather’s time,” Thorin stated, “I had not thought to decide whether or not executions were to continue to be so. There hasn’t been a need until now.”
“Many will consider it their right to witness the deaths of those who would dare try to harm their King and Prince,” Dís reminded. She was polishing a set of throwing knives, looking this close to marching herself down to the dungeons and tearing the balls off of all five of the criminals inside it.
Thorin nodded, “I don’t want Bella to-”
“Finish that sentence, Thorin,” Bella threatened mildly, “And you’re sleeping alone tonight.”
Thorin, rather wisely, shut up.
“This is really good, Bella,” Ori handed the picture back to her, “Are you going to weave it next?”
“Yes,” Bella returned, “I think so.”
Fíli leaned over Thorin’s shoulder to see the image that Bella had drawn, “It’s the three Kingdoms, surrounded by flowers.”
“It’s called Lemon Beebrush,” Bella explained, “It means ‘unity’ in the language of the flowers.”
“Quite fitting,” Dori said.
“And the Greentongue runes along the edges?” Fíli wondered.
“It’s a poem,” Bella told him before reciting,
“‘Let bloom the flowers of peace,
Your hate and fear – release.
For though we all sing a different tune,
We all need the sun and moon.’”
“That’s beautiful,” Bofur praised.
Bifur signed a moment later, ‘Who wrote it?’
“My mother,” Bella replied softly.
“Bella,” Bombur called from the doorway of the kitchen then, “I think that your cookies are done.”
Bella hopped lightly off of Thorin’s lap, who tensely watched her disappear into the kitchen and only relaxed again when she reappeared with a tray of cooling biscuits in her hands a minute later. Bella set the tray down on the low table in the center of her plush chairs and sofas as Bombur carried over mugs of warm vanilla honey milk.
Dwalin reached for a cookie immediately but froze when Bella said sharply, “Dwalin Kingsarm, don’t you dare touch any food until you’ve scrubbed your hands clean. Who knows what kind of foul things those horrible bastards have tainting their blood.”
“Yeah, Dwalin,” Kíli agreed, “They could have parasites. I really wouldn’t risk it.”
Dwalin rolled his eyes but marched off to the kitchen to wash his hands. There was no way he was missing out on his Namadith’s baking.
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The remainder of the festival passed without any great incident and was an utterly splendid way to for the peoples of the three Kingdoms to get to know one another off of the field of battle and without the restraints of diplomatic procedures. For the Royal Family of Erebor, though, the merriment induced by the fête was laced with an undercurrent of solemnity. As the festival came to a close, another, graver, matter was brought to the forefront of their minds- the first criminal trial of King Thorin’s reign Under the Mountain.
The Dwarven justice system was something that Bella, for all that she was kin to Dwarves, had very little knowledge of. She knew about banishment, of course, and that it meant that the one banished would not be welcome in any kingdom of Dwarrow which considered Erebor its ally, as per Dwarven tradition, but that was the extent of her knowledge, and she had only gleaned that by necessity. Bella had never been to any kind of trial either, Dwarven or otherwise, because crime was a very rare occurrence in the Shire and there had been no reason for a trial in Erebor before now.
“It’s a fairly straightforward business. There are three levels when it comes to charges levied against a criminal,” Balin had explained the night before the trial, “First tier, second tier, and third tier. Third tier is the least serious type of crime- petty theft, vandalism, and other things of that ilk; community service of some sort is typically the sentence passed. Second tier encompasses major theft, domestic abuse, and the like; the punishment for these ranges between jail time, loss of limb, and banishment. First tier is reserved for the most grave crimes- attempted murder, actual murder, threats of any sort to the Royal Family; there is only ever one penalty for a first tier crime and that is death. Thorin will announce the charges, listen to the defense of the accused, if they have any, and decide whether or not they are guilty. He will then pass judgment upon them, to be carried out immediately.”
“If the Dwarves who tried to kill Thorin and Kíli are going to be executed, regardless of what happens tomorrow, then why does there have to be a trial?” Bella had asked.
“It is the right of the people to know what crimes have been committed in their home and to see that justice is being done,” Balin had answered.
Bella had donned a sharply-cut black and white dress to wear to the trial, with onyx jewelry set in black gold. Her strawberry-blonde curls, save for that which was plaited into her betrothal braid, had been twisted up into a complex bun by Thorin that morning. The severity of her garb had startled her when she’d looked into the mirror, but she had supposed that it was only fitting, given the circumstances.
The chamber where the trial was to be held, the Balil Emùzel Melhekhaz, was enormous and circular with a great domed ceiling into which the Crest of Durin was carved. The seats were staggered, like stairs; the farther away from the center of the room, the more highly elevated that the seats were. Nearly all the males who lived in the Mountain were present to witness the spectacle, though very few Dwarrowdams and absolutely no children were.
She was seated amidst the majority of her brothers in a closed-off section reserved for the Royal Family, tucked in between Bofur and Nori, with Dís on Nori’s right and Dáin on Bofur’s left. Kíli, Tauriel, Bifur, and Bombur were in front of her and Óin, Glóin, Dori, and Ori were seated behind her; numerous guards, including Bella’s, surrounded them. This had all undoubtedly been prearranged; no disgruntled family member of one of the accused could get to her without having to go through the already pissed off guards, who were all now very aware that Bella had risked her life to save their King, and her overprotective kin.
Fíli and Balin were standing by Thorin’s side on the dais, where a less opulent and more imposing version of the throne sat. Guards, including Dwalin, were positioned in strategic places around the three, with Dwalin the closest. Two large basins of oil burned bright on each of the front corners of the dais and before it was a heavy block of dark-stained wood.
A gong sounded and Thorin, his expression as solemn as stone, nodded at the pair of Dwarrow who stood at the far end of the chamber, guarding a set of heavy obsidian doors. The Dwarves responded at once, sliding the doors ajar to reveal Grijak, Zukarí, Iriní, Kumar, and Jaksí, their wrists and ankles manacled and their skin still bruised from Dwalin and Nori’s interrogations. They were escorted into the heart of the chamber by a small contingent of guards. One other Dwarf entered the chamber as well, though he stayed back by doors, a tall Dwarf who was clothed in black and hooded so that only his dark eyes showed; he had a huge axe strapped to his back.
“Kurushif Nîd!” Thorin barked at the accused, and when the Dwarrow before him did not immediately obey, the guards who had ushered them before the King were more than happy to force the traitors, who looked sullen and contemptuous, to their knees.
“The five of you stand accused and have confessed to the attempted assassination of your King and of your Prince,” Thorin announced gravely, “You have admitted to planning the murders of your Crown Prince, the Sunrise Princess of Arda, and your High Lords. It also was your intention to start wars with our allies, the Kingdoms of Dale and the Greenwood, which could have resulted in the deaths of thousands. You have committed treason of the highest order. Do you have anything at all to say in your defense?”
“We are not the traitors,” Grijak spat at him, “You are. You have tainted the sacred Kingdom of Erebor by accepting outsiders into the Mountain, by taking a Halfling as your betrothed. And your nephew is no better! He means to wed a Khathuzhinh Dashunâl Mabaraz!”
Well, if Thorin hadn’t already been planning on having Grijak killed, he certainly was now, Bella thought.
“The women that you dare offer insult to were instrumental in reclaiming this kingdom,” Thorin growled out, “If not for them, Erebor would still be under the control of Smaug.”
“The Halfling is a traitor!” Zukarí, the archer whose arrow had struck Bella in Dale, exclaimed scornfully, “She stole the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain! She took your very right to rule and gave it to your enemies and yet she is treated as if she were anything more than a cowardly and treasonous thief.”
“My right to rule,” Thorin echoed, “I suppose, by that reasoning, that you believe that Thrór must not have had any right to the throne until after the gem was unearthed. Do you also dare suggest that Durin’s kingships were never legitimate either?”
Zukarí hesitated, “Of course not, but-”
“No person who would serve me and mine for the sake of a single rock is welcome in my kingdom,” Thorin declared thunderously.
Bella inhaled sharply.
“If he was going for blunt and shocking,” Bofur muttered lowly, “I’d say that he certainly succeeded.”
“The King’s Jewel is an heirloom of our people,” Grijak protested hotly.
“The Arkenstone has brought nothing but misfortune to Erebor and her people,” Thorin countered. “It drove my grandfather mad and his insanity, in turn, summoned a dragon to these halls. That gem holds a dark power over Dwarves, Men, and Elves alike; as far as I am concerned, it is to blame for Smaug’s descending upon these lands. As long as I am King Under the Mountain, that cursed stone shall never again see the light of day.”
“Lookie there,” Bofur murmured in astonishment, “He’s managed it again.”
“I ask you again and for the final time,” Thorin forged on, “Do you have anything to say in defense of your actions?”
This time the accused Dwarrow were silent, glaring at Thorin unrepentantly.
“Grijak, son of Grij, Zukarí, son of Zephrí, Iriní, son of Oriní, Kumar, son of Kum, and Jaksí, son of Talsí,” Thorin’s countenance was that of stone once more, “On this, the fourteenth day of Âfdohyar, you have been charged with high treason against the crown and adjudged guilty. For such a crime there is only one sentence I can pass onto you- Amrad Shekâlaz.”
“Coward’s Death,” Nori translated softly for Bella, because that wasn’t a phrase she had heard before. “Cowards do not die with honor; the accused will lose their beards and head hair before being executed.”
Bella stiffened in surprise at that. She vividly recalled the appalled and devastated looks that she had received from her Dwarven kin the one and only time that she had attempted to cut her hair during the Quest; Fíli and Kíli hadn’t given her back her knives for a week, terrified that she would try again to shorten her wild curls despite her promise that she wouldn’t. The Company’s horror at witnessing Thorin shear off her original betrothal braid had, Bella realized in retrospect, been so great of a shock to their persons that it had knocked them out of their mild cases of gold-sickness.
Hair was sacred to the children of Mahal and there were many who considered being shorn to be a fate worse than death. A number of Dwarrow, Bella noted, looked away as the traitors, despite their fierce struggling, lost their hair, one by one.
When all of it was gathered, red, black, and brown, in one large pile, Thorin gave another instruction, “Tursiki Khi.”
The hair was then fed into the fires burning before the dais, blazing bright momentarily before being reduced to ash within seconds. As the locks were destroyed, the Dwarrow hooded in black stepped forward, the light from the fires glancing off of the blade of his axe, which he now held in his hands.
“Imrid Amrad Ursul, Kalilâl Melhekh Undu ‘Abad!” Grijak cursed, the only one of the traitors who had not been completely cowed by the shaving, eliciting furious shouts from a great many of the Dwarves gathered.
Thorin nodded at the guards and they dragged Grijak forward to the thick, wooden block. Leather straps were wound around Grijak’s neck and he was made to lean over the block, the straps attached to the base of it to hold the Dwarf in place. A moment later, the executioner raised his axe, waiting, and then Thorin made a sharp cutting motion with his arm.
And then the axe was brought back down.
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Not protesting Bella’s decision to witness the executions had been a mistake.
She had seen death before, had taken lives even, but that had been in the heat of battle, while her heart and mind had been more heavily occupied with defending herself and her kin than it was with the death around her. Formal executions were a vastly different thing, though, and Thorin should have realized how negatively it would affect Bella, seeing five Dwarves who could not fight to defend themselves killed, no matter that they were traitors and would-be murderers.
He should have pressed for her to remain ensconced within the Royal Wing while the executions took place. Perhaps then she would not have spent the past two and a half hours weaving furiously at her loom, unwilling to eat, her concentration almost entirely consumed by recalling the events of the day.
Mind you, it was mesmerizing, the way that Bella’s nimble fingers danced with unerring precision across the threads as the tapestry began to really take shape. Already, Thorin could make out a beautiful line of swirling Greentongue across the top and the tip of a mountain; he would have placed money on it being Erebor’s peak. Thorin rather wished that he could watch her weave without her being so distressed though.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Bella spoke up, catching Thorin off-guard.
“What?”
“You’re thinking that I shouldn’t have stayed for the executions.”
“You’re very upset, Ghivashel,” Thorin offered by way of explanation, moving off of the bed to kneel before her and take his hands into his own.
“It wasn’t that they died that bothered me,” Bella revealed in a prosaic manner, “They attempted to murder you, Thorin, and they wanted to kill Kíli too and for those crimes I would have swung the axe myself had it been necessary. The formality of the executions just… brought back memories that I had suppressed, rather on purpose, some time ago.”
“Memories?” Thorin questioned tentatively.
“I’ve seen an execution before, in the Shire,” Bella illuminated, “When I was a young girl, when I was nine years old, actually. Two boys, barely out of their tweens, were stoned to death one winter. They’d been caught together and, when they refused to forsake each other and marry the girls that their families had chosen for them… they were killed, by order of the Thain.”
“They were executed for being in love?” Thorin knew that he must have looked as horrified as he sounded.
“I would be executed for the same if I ever reentered the Shire,” Bella told him softly, and Thorin tightened his grip on her hands, anger and no small amount of fear crashing through him at that particular reminder. “It’s illegal in the Shire for two males, or females, for that matter, to love one another in that way for the same reason that I was forbidden to ever marry- the unions could never produce faunts.”
“You don’t have a problem with same-sex pairings,” Thorin noted.
“My mother was adamant that there was nothing wrong with them,” Bella explained, sliding off of the bench and into Thorin’s lap, “She said, often, that it was wrong for any person to judge the way that Yavanna had designed each of her sons and daughters to love. She did everything in her power to convince her brother to change his mind, to stop those boys from being executed, but my uncle had just inherited the Thainship from his father and was unwilling to ‘stir up trouble’, as he put it. My mother never spoke to him again, after that.”
“I am surprised that she allowed you to witness the stoning,” Thorin murmured into Bella’s curls.
“None of the faunts were supposed to be present for it, that I was there was an accident,” Bella admitted. “I’d been playing in the woods and came across the execution on my way home. When I saw the blood… I started screaming. One of my uncles carried me home to my parents, though I don’t remember which one. I was inconsolable for weeks and I refused to leave my mother’s side for months after the fact.”
“I deeply regret that you had to see something so terrible,” Thorin said mournfully, “Especially at such a young age, Ghivashel.”
“I didn’t remember it until today,” Bella sighed, “Which is probably for the best; holding onto those memories would not have been in the least bit healthy. I almost certainly would have screamed in Dwalin’s face when he showed up at Bag End if I had recalled them.”
Yes, Thorin could imagine that she would have. “I would prefer,” Thorin requested carefully, “If you were to never witness another formal execution again. It is not a charge that the Queen of Erebor has ever been required to fulfill; neither my mother nor my grandmother ever attended any affairs of that nature.”
“Dís was there today,” Bella pointed out.
“My sister is not you,” Thorin replied, “She has been hardened by grief in a way that I hope you never shall be.”
“I don’t want your people believing that I’m weak, Thorin,” Bella told him in an undertone.
“There is little chance of that,” Thorin promised, “No one who knows even the most basic things about you would ever imagine you to be frail or fragile, Madtithbirzul.”
“I’ll stay away from the formal executions from now on, as long as you promise me something,” Bella said after a long moment.
“What is that?” Thorin inquired.
“That you will never ask me not to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe,” Bella answered, “Or to stay behind while you go off to fight in some battle. You never try to keep me from being at your side, where I belong, during times of peace and times of war.”
That was not an oath that Thorin particularly wished to make to her, but he knew when to press and when to concede and this was definitely a fight he would never win, and so he swore, “You have my word, Bella.”
Bella kissed him sweetly, “Thank you.”
“Would you like to learn Khuzdûl?” Thorin asked, “Formally, I mean. I know that you’ve been informally learning it for some time now.”
Bella looked surprised, “I thought formal lessons weren’t allowed.”
“I’ve come to believe that our isolation and secrecy has done us little good, if it breeds people like Grijak,” Thorin explained. “Besides, you’re a member of the Royal Family and you’re going to be the Queen. You should know the language of the Khazâd. I’m going to ask Tauriel to learn it, as well, and Sigrid, if Fíli ever gets his act together.”
“I would love to learn,” Bella assured him. “Who will be teaching me?”
“Balin,” Thorin replied, “He taught me and, well, most of the members of the Company, actually. Teaching was his first love and he’s glad for the chance to get back to it; advising me was something that necessity pushed him into.”
“He’s good at advising though,” Bella stated.
“Yes,” Thorin agreed, “And he considers it to be the most meaningful use of his time these days. Right now, our chief concern is redesigning the school system that my grandfather had in place to be more diverse in its teachings. Balin suggested that we add a class on basic agriculture to the mix, but theoretical knowledge is not the same as practical knowledge and the latter is not something that many Dwarrow have to impart, so I am not sure how helpful it would be.”
“Did you know,” Bella began conversationally, “That I was considered one of the best gardeners in the Shire?”
“Er, no, I didn’t,” Thorin returned, a bit confused.
“Did you also not know that I have a very large garden in which I’ll be planting all manner of fruits and vegetables and flowers and herbs come spring?” Bella continued, “A garden in which I’d be more than happy to teach Dwarflings how to grow green things?”
“Your teaching the children of the Mountain would be seen as a tremendous honor,” Thorin rejoined. “Though I would rather have a public garden built for that purpose. The location of your garden is meant to be a secret known only to those of the Royal Family and our most trusted guards.”
“You can be a mite bit overprotective, you know,” Bella sounded amused.
“When one’s heart is in the habit of riddling with dragons and destroying dark lords and throwing herself in front of arrows,” Thorin remarked seriously, “One develops an advanced sense of protectiveness to compensate.”
Bella rolled her eyes, “Tell me about Thranduil saving your life.”
“I snuck out of the Mountain when I was eleven years old, to escape my lessons, and nearly got skewered to death by a boar,” Thorin acquiesced. “Thranduil happened upon the scene and saved me. My grandfather… he forbid me from ever speaking of it in any capacity; he did not want his people feeling kindly toward the Elves, whom Thrór despised.”
“Why?” Bella wondered.
“He blamed them for my grandmother’s death,” Thorin answered, “She caught a rare illness which caused her to waste away. The Elves had no remedy for it and my grandfather found that he could not forgive that.”
“Do you hate Thranduil?”
“I certainly do not like him,” Thorin replied, “But I am more than capable of treating him cordially for the sake of our respective kingdoms… and Kíli and Tauriel, of course.”
Bella accepted that, or at least seemed to, and she ran her fingers over the scruff on his chin lightly, “Why haven’t you grown out your beard, Thorin?”
“I do not deserve to,” Thorin told her. “Not after what I did.”
Bella did not look all that impressed with that explanation, “You are entirely too melodramatic, my darling, it’s not healthy.”
“I hurt you-”
“And I forgave you,” Bella cut him off. “You’re never going to fully heal if you cannot manage to forgive yourself.”
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Translations
- Ghivashel – Treasure of all Treasures; Beloved
- Khaeluh – My Wolf
- Madtithbirzul – Little Golden Heart
- Adad – Father
- Amad – Mother
- Idad – Uncle
- Imad – Aunt
- Namad – Sister
- Namadith – Little Sister
- Namaduh – My Sister
- Nadad – Brother
- Nadadith – Little Brother
- Balil Emùzel Melhekhaz – Just Chamber of the King; (There was no word for courtroom that I could find)
- Kurushif Nîd – Kneel Down
- Khathuzhinh Dashunâl Mabaraz – Elf (Female) Whore
- Âfdohyar – Anvil Moon (The First Month on the Dwarven Calendar)
- Amrad Shekâlaz – Coward’s Death
- Tursiki Khi – Burn It
- Imrid Amrad Ursul, Kalilâl Melhekh Undu ‘Abad – Die a death of fire, false King Under the Mountain
- Khazâd – Dwarves