Princess Under the Mountain

"... But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell."

I remember dying. I remember struggling to say those words to Bilbo, my friend, to whom I had spoken quite cruelly some hours before. I remember the peace in my mind and the pain in my body suddenly being gone. So why am I back here, watching my cousin Dain about to be crowned King Under the Mountain?

Wait! Because that crown is not his to wear. The line of Durin is not broken, as most folk believe. I look around until I see Balin. The old warrior looks sad and conflicted, even as he cheers along with the rest of my people. Because he knows, and I swore him to secrecy. I forgot to release him before I died. I make my way to him and whisper in his ear, “Thora.”

My old friend nearly jumps out of his skin and rubs his arm as if he’s felt a chill. I try again. “Remember Thora. You must stop this. You must give her the chance to know her heritage. Remember Thora. I did this for her. I wanted her to have the life she deserved as Princess Under the Mountain. Stop Dain and find Thora. Please, old friend!” I must have gotten through because his face changes before he steps forward…

~*~*~*~

Over the fires in the forge, the separate rhythms of two hammers rang out, making music as the workers sang an old Dwarvish song. One voice was higher and obviously female while the other was deeper and male, but together, they made beautiful forge music as Balin and a small envoy arrived at the farm on the edge of the Dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains. He smiled into his beard for a moment, remembering other times he had stopped here with Thorin. But then the grief took the smile away.

A Dwarf woman came out of the large stone cottage to greet him and offer his company some food and drink. He accepted for them and promised to join them shortly. “I have some business with Thora first.” He dismounted his pony and pulled an oddly shaped package from the saddlebag.

“So the quest was successful? Is he claiming her now?”

“Yes, and no, Brina. We have successfully reclaimed Erebor, but the king is no more. We hope to find our queen today.”

Balin left her where she stood with her hand over her mouth and walked into the forge as if he were walking into a great hall.

~*~*~*~

I am glad that I was able to follow Balin in my ghost form to see my daughter. The two separate work spaces show the differences in the type of work they each do best. Solian works armor and weapons while Thora makes pretty things and mends pots; and they both work horseshoes and tools.

The old Dwarf notices Balin first, but my friend motions him to silence before he can be properly greeted and we both watch my beautiful girl as she works. She is so much like her mother in build and bearing, with her mother’s dark brown eyes, but her hair is black, like mine. It is long and curly, and she has it caught back from her face with a leather thong. Even in grubby, sweat soaked clothes, I see the princess under the grime. My beautiful girl is grown to a woman.

She lifts the piece of hotmetal she has been shaping with the tongs to check her work in the sunlight before dropping it back into the coals to reheat. I watch her stretch her back and shove a wayward curl out of her eyes with the back of one hand, leaving a smudge across her forehead. She finally turns to speak to her foster father and sees Balin. We have come here many times over the years to check on her so she knows him well. She smiles brightly at him, like her mother‘s smile, before Erebor fell.

~*~*~*~

“Greetings, Master Balin! What business brings ye, sir?”

“Not of the usual sort, lassie.” He returned her smile, but not so cheerfully. “Could ye leave off your work for a few?”

“Oh, certainly.” She lifted the metal out of the coals with the tongs and set it on her anvil then removed her leather apron and hung it on a peg. “I’ll be back, Babba,” she called with a wave to her foster father. She walked to the well and drew a bucket of cool water. She washed her face and hands before facing the old warrior. “How can I be of service, sir?”

Balin took a deep breath. “I have some sad news for ye, lassie.”

She stood still and waited in silence for him to continue.

“Ye know that Brina and Solian are not your birth parents?”

“O aye! They always told me that. They told me that when the time came for my birth, my mother was ill and weak. That she died shortly after I was delivered.”

“And what know ye of your father?”

“That he is a great leader among dwarven kind, but that he didn’t know how to raise me and that he was afraid for my safety since he was something of a nomad. They always told me that they hoped he would return for me one day; that they were sure he loved me, but that he thought leaving me here would be better for me.”

Balin nodded. “Indeed, all this is true, lassie. He was a great man. And he thought that leaving you here was best for you.”

The tense of his words were not lost on her. “Was? So he is dead then?”

“Aye, Thora, he is.”

“How?” her voice was beginning to crack with emotion as she held back tears.

“Did you know that your parents were from Erebor?”

She nodded affirmation.

“He wanted to reclaim your rightful inheritance and place in that kingdom before he came for you.”

Her breath caught. “The dragon?”

“No, lass. We did not hardly face the dragon at all. Others killed him, but we caught the dragon sickness while in the mountain and afterward started a war that nearly destroyed three races of peoples. Your father, and those of us who survived, were brought to our senses just in time, but he did fall during the battle. Many lives were brutally crushed that day. But we do have cause to rejoice because now that Erebor is ours once again, and that your father’s place and honor is restored in it, I have come to fetch you to fill it.

The girl’s tears were flowing now. She covered her face with her hands and nearly doubled over as her body shook with her grief. “I just wish he had let me know him…” she gasped out between sobs.

“But he did.”

Thora looked up at Solian. She had not heard her foster parents’ approach.

He opened his arms to her and she ran to him for comfort as he explained. “Do you remember when I was hurt and couldn’t work for so long?” She nodded against his chest so he continued. “Your work wasn’t supporting us so you tried to do some of my work for me and you weren’t strong enough to make the armor shape the right way.”

“Yes. And your friend, Prince Thorin stopped in to see you. He didn’t know you’d been hurt.”

~*~*~*~

I ache to be the one comforting her, telling her who I am, remembering with her the little time I had spent with her. I well remember that day, the fear and pain in my chest when I rode up and saw her through the open forge door, struggling to make the metal bend to her will, but she had not been strong enough then -- she was such a little thing at that time, not the woman she is now. I remember running up and grabbing the hammer from her hand, then sweeping her away from Solian’s tools and scolding her harshly.

She had then begun to cry, much like she was now as she explained that she was trying to support her family. I had carried her into the cottage so Brina could treat her blisters and cuts while I spoke to Solian.

A little while later, I had taken Thora back out to the forge and taught her how to heat the metal a little bit more than Solian did so that she could work it properly, without hurting herself or compromising the project. I had helped her to catch up Solian’s work and taught her some forge songs that I had not sung since I had been her size.

Every time that I had visited since then, she would beg me to teach her more, and I had enjoyed lavishing praise on the improvements I saw in her work. I was, am, and always will be so proud of my beautiful girl.

~*~*~*~

“That was your father,child.” Brina said, softly.

The sobs renewed and she leaned more heavily into her foster parents’ arms. Now there was a face and memories to fill the space where her father had been only a shadowy figure in her mind and heart. Now there was an actual person to grieve.

“And the boy who always picked on you, teased you to distraction--”

“Kili,” she mumbled into Solian’s chest. “I beat him up the last time he untied my apron and pulled my hair. His brother just watched and laughed.”

“They were your cousins.” Brina explained. “The sons of your father’s sister.”

Thora turned a little to look at Balin. “And my cousins? Were they with him?”

The old dwarf nodded, his expression solemn. “Yes, they were. They fell along side him.”

“She drew a ragged breath. “So that means I am…”

“You are the last of your family line. Your father’s cousin, Dainwill rule if you do not wish to take your place in the kingdom, but if you are willing to learn the needs of kingdom and court, I would be honored to take you there and teach you, My Queen.” He bowed as he held out the now unwrapped bundle.

A jewel encrusted, gold crown caught the sunlight and threw dazzling rainbows everywhere.

Thora was caught between laughter and tears as confusion warred within her, even as her hand was drawn to touch a ruby with one finger. “I… I… Babba, what do I do?”

“I cannot make this decision for you,” Solian smiled sadly and looked down into her face.

“Nor I, Dear.” Brina added. “But we will stand behind you whichever ye choose.”

“Master Balin?”

“Yes, Milady?”

“How long to I have? To decide.”

He smiled kindly at her. “I must leave within the week to take your answer to your father’s cousin, but ye should not worry your wee head about it. Ye may take a few days to ask of me any questions ye may have before ye make up your mind. Until then,” he rewrapped the crown carefully. I will just continue to hold this for safe keeping.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“But this, Milady, is yours no matter what you choose.“ He offered her a small. box. She hesitantly took it and lifted the hinged lid as he explained, “Your father’s ring, bearing the runes of your family line.”

It was too large for her fingers, but Brina reached around and undid the clasp on the chain that hung around the girl’s neck and helped her thread the ring onto itbefore refastening it back into place.

“Thank you, Master Balin.”

~*~*~*~

I am pleased that she has decided to at least travel to see Erebor. I feel she is very near to saying yes, after three nights of sitting up late and talking with Balin. Especially after he assured her that her foster parents were more than welcome and that if neither she, nor they wished, he had no intention of separating them.

I follow, watching her ride her pony. Her carriage and bearing are already that of a queen, as if she had been raised in the great Dwarven halls and not in a humble cottage.

Brina and Solian were the best decision I have ever made. They love Thora as if she was their own and have raised her to be able to face whatever situation life puts her in. They have educated her well, but also saw to it that she knows a trade. And Balin is wasting no time teaching her courtly manners. She will be ready to face my cousin by the time we get there.

~*~*~*~

“May I present to the Court of Erebor, Princess Thora, daughter of our late king, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.” Balin bowed and Thora stepped forward with her head held high.

The white fur that lined her light blue cloak framed her dark features beautifully. She pushed back the hood, then unclasped the brooch so her foster mother could take it for her, revealing how her long, black curls had been combed but left loose except for two tiny braids on each side of her face that had been pulled back and bound with gold wire to keep it out of her face. Her father’s ring hung visible against the bodice of her dark green velvet gown. She curtsied deeply. “At your service, Milord.”

“So you’ve decided to come and see your father’s birthplace, lassie?”

Inside she seethed at his rudeness, but outwardly she kept her sweet smile in place. “Oh, aye. The legacy of my people, as well as my inheritance and lineage interest me deeply.”

Dain frowned. “Considering your father’s rank, I expected you to be fairly dripping with finery. We dwarves treasure our women almost as much as we treasure our gold, so we tend to put them in the same place, for safekeeping you know.”

“I do know, but I was not aware that “finery” made the princess. I thought only blood did that, and since my father’s gold was here, stolen by a dragon and I was hidden away elsewhere for safekeeping, you’ll have to forgive me my lack of jewels.”

“Well put, lass. You and your company must be tired, so please, feel free to rest and freshen up. Tonight we shall feast.”

She curtsied again, though not so deeply as last time. “Thank you, Milord.”

“I would be honored to show ye the way, Princess.” Balin offered as he bowed, and emphasized her rank.

“Thank you Master Balin, but if you would first, I would like to see where my father has been laid to rest.”

“Of course, Princess. If you would, please follow me.”

~*~*~*~

I smile at her quick wit, though I admit that I had hoped for a little more kindness from Dain. But then again, not much. On the whole, we are a patriarchal society. Women are treasured, and loved, and protected at all costs, so they rarely fight and even more rarely lead. But Thora is my blood, the most direct descendant of Durin. She will be queen if she wishes it.

I stand behind my cousin and whisper, “Thora is MY treasure and deserves your respect.” He jumps as if he has fire ants in his seat.

I have not been jovial since my youth, but I have to admit that I am beginning to enjoy haunting folk. I grin to myself and move away to join my daughter at my tomb.

~*~*~*~

Once they left Thorin’s tomb, Balin made sure to introduce Thora to the rest of the dwarves of her father’s company. They took to her like a bunch of doting uncles, except for young Ori, who acted quite smitten and shier than usual in her presence.

She smiled and treated each with respect, asked them questions about what her father was like and what they thought about certain issues facing the kingdom as it was rebuilt. When Balin told them of the welcome she received from Dain, there was a lot of shouting and pledging to stand behind her against her cousin.

“Wait!” They silenced and looked at the young slip of a woman, standing on a chair to get their attention. “Respect is earned from both sides. Lord Dain did not even know that I existed, so naturally he thought he would be next in line. I will continue to speak to him with the respect due his rank, as I will publicly to each of you, though I consider you friends. I ask that you do the same for me as Balin and my foster parents do. Publicly, I am my rank and societal position, though privately you may call me what you like, except late for supper.”

The dwarf warriors mumbled their agreement to the plan.

“Very good then. We should go and ready ourselves or we shall be all late for supper.” Balin said to shoo them on their way, before escorting Thora to her rooms.

“Thank you, Balin.” She embraced the old man affectionately.

He blushed to his ears and muttered around at a loss for words as she entered her rooms so Brina could help her get ready for the feast.

~*~*~*~

As I watch the feasting and merrymaking, I am appalled at the table manners of most of my own people. My men have been known to be somewhat crude-- poor Bilbo did not know what to think of them, but they are a mild mannered bunch compared to Dain’s men.

But my Thora looks positively ethereal comparatively. She could dine with elves and not appear out of place. She smiles, and laughs, and chats. But she is never raucous or overloud. She doesn’t laugh with a mouth full of food or spill more ale than she drinks, though not having a full beard may help some. I watch her from behind Dain and occasionally point these things out to him.

For her part, Thora is coolly polite to him throughout the meal and as soon as she feels it is polite enough to do so, excuses herself. Balin and my other men follow. She asks them to show her the treasure room. They are hesitant, but after I whisper my approval to Balin, he consents.

~*~*~*~

“What I’m wondering is, if we recast these things, would they still carry the dragon sickness or would that lessen the effect? Could thedragon sickness be purified out of them?”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt,” Bofur agreed.

“Dain would throw a fit,” Dori worried.

“That’s quite a bit of work though, Lass.” Balin warned.

“I understand that, and I’m not asking for anything I’m not willing to do myself. I’m asking, is it possible?” She reached out to touch one of the piles of gold coins. “I don’t want my people to keep getting this sickness of the mind so I want to give much away, but by the same token, I don’t want to pass the dragon sickness on to others either. Is it worth a try?”

All agreed and after bidding them goodnight, Balin lead her back to her rooms for the night.

Over the next few days Thora began exploring more and more on her own. She learned the halls quickly, began greeting the kitchen staff by name, and took her turns at the forges.

Dain had not been pleased with her plan at first, but the more of the hoard they cleansed, the better he began to feel, and he realized that she had been right. The more knowledgeable she became in regards to running the kingdom, the more he came to respect her in spite of himself.

Balin was musing over a large map carved into a wall when she stumbled upon him during one of her explorations. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, sir. I will continue on my way.” She curtsied and was about to leave when he smiled at her sadly.

“No, lass. Come and I will tell you something about your father.”

She obediently joined him and waited for him to begin.

“Do you know what this map is of?”

She looked up and at a glance recognized the notations and images. “The Dwarf kingdom of Kazad-Dum. The sacred halls of Moria, where Mithrill came from.”

“Very good. You have studied well.”

~*~*~*~

He tells her the same story he told my nephews and Bilbo, about the battle at the gates of Moria. He tells her about Azog and the fall of her great grandfather and her uncle -- Fili and Kili’s father, and of her grandfather’s disappearance. He tells her about the wanton destruction of our people.

She asks what he had been thinking about before she came upon him. He explains that Moria has long been on his mind, as Erebor had been for me and that he felt now would be a good time to try again to reclaim it, since the goblins were scattered and leaderless.

She hugs him and tells him that if that is what he feels he must do, then he should do it. I watch his ears turn pink at her affection and smile to myself.

~*~*~*~

“But I promised to stay and help you, lass.” Balin objected.

“What if I came with?”

“What?”

She smiled at him. “It would settle things between Dain and myself. He can have whichever he chooses and I will take the other. If he decides to stay in Erebor and be King Under the Mountain, I will be Queen of Moria, and you will be my second. Lord Balin.”

He frowned. “It will be dangerous. Would ye consider waiting here while I established things in your name?”

“No. I would not be a good leader if I sat safe at home while my men took all the risks. I am my father’s daughter and I have been trying to see the answer to settling things peacefully between Dain and I. This is the first answer I’ve found that doesn’t involve further war amongst ourselves.”

Balin pondered for a few moments. “Has anyone taught you to fight? I wouldn’t want to take ye into a dangerous situation when ye couldn’t defend yourself.”

“Solian taught me a little for self defense, but I am no warrior. I would diligently learn, if that would convince you.”

He smiled. “I have no doubt of that. Let us add sparring to your daily education schedule for a couple of weeks, then we will see what Dain has to say about your idea.”

~*~*~*~

My little girl is learning to fight. She attacks these lessons as she has everything else, with courage and determination. She willingly learns to use any weapon that is put into her hands and never complains about blisters or the exhaustion I see in her eyes.

When she practices archery, I remember Kili when he was small and first learning to shoot, though she learns faster than he did. She does well with spear, ax, and sword as well, but it is in the two handed arts that she excels. Small hand axes, dual short swords, hand-to-hand combat. She uses a shield for lessons, but prefers to do most of her fighting without one.

I haunt Dain when I see him watching her lessons. “She will soon be a better fighter than you and she will fight for what is hers,” I can't help but smile when he jumps and rubs at the chill from my presence.

She still takes her daily turn in the forges, while also continuing her general studies, history, and court manners with Balin. She is strong. She is ready. I tell Balin so.

He tells her that she should talk to her cousin and she invites him to dine with her. She cooks a special meal. I rememberfromone of my few visits enjoying that very same spread. She cooks well, and Dain had better appreciate it.

~*~*~*~

“Lord Dain, I invited you to dine with me so that we could discuss some things.”

“Yes, Princess?”

Balin smiled from his spot in the corner. He was there as both an advisor and a bodyguard. He was pleased that Dain had finally begun acknowledging her position and rank.

“We are at an impasse in regards to whom should rule Erebor. You feel you have a claim, though by right of inheritance it is mine.”

He grunted, his mouth full of food.

“It has come to my attention that there is yet another Dwarf kingdom that is yet to be reclaimed, and will also need a ruler.”

“And which one is that?” her cousin asked around yet another large bite.

“Moria.”

Fortunately for Thora, she was not in the line of fire when he spewedale and food in surprise. “Have ye gone mad, lass? Kazad-Dum is overrun by orcs and goblins. It fell to that vile race before your father’s time. Your grandfather disappeared there, and you uncle and great grandfather died there trying to reclaim it after the dragon took Erebor!”

“I know all this. I also know that because of the Battle of Five Armies, the orcs and goblins are greatly depleted, scattered, and leaderless. If there was ever a time to reclaim our sacred places, it is now, before they rebuild their numbers.”

“So you intend to be Queen Under the Mountain while I go fight what I believe to be a losing battle. Is that it? Send me to my death? That’s how you settle things, then. I see.” He was shouting and shaking his finger at her across the table.

Her expression darkened. “No, you don’t see!” She shouted him down, lunging to her feet with such force that her chair toppled over behind her. She slapped her palms flat against the table then leaned on them, looking her cousin directly in the eye. When she spoke again, her voice was calm, her tone even, her volume normal. “This is how I settle things. I offer you a choice. Either go with Balin and reclaim Moria, become king there. Or you release the worth of my inheritance to me in gold and provisions so can. I will fight the battle you don’t believe in. I will be queen under another mountain. I will be Queen of Moria. In this way we both get what we want.”

“And what if you fail? You’ll return and we will be right back here again.”

“No, if I fail and if I return, it will not be here. I will return to my old home in the Blue Mountains, where my father established a Dwarven settlement. Dwalin does not wish to see Moria again, so I name him Lord of the Blue Mountain Dwarves in my absence. I give you my word. Once you decide which kingdom you want, I will take the other, and the matter will be forever settled between us.” A servant stepped forward and righted Thora’s chair so that she could sit. She smiled at the young man. “Thank you.”

Dain was now reclining in his seat, considering her offer. “So you will relinquish your right to the crown and title as Ruler Under The Mountain?”

“If you will agree to my terms, Cousin.”

“Why? Why do want to go on this insane quest?”

“Is that what you asked my father when he sought your help on his insane quest against the dragon?” she asked innocently.

He frowned.

“I want to do this for the same reasons he did. I feel it is time and the right thing to do. I want to go because it is the only peaceful solution to our problem that I have found. I know I have justas much backing to beQueen, as you do to be King, but I will not have our people fighting amongst ourselves. That is what would be insane. Not to mention foolish. This way, we can each have a kingdom.”

“Agreed. I drink to your health and success, Queen Thora of Moria.”

~*~*~*~

I am at peace once again. I feel myself slipping away, but I have one last jibe for my cousin. “I told you she would be queen.” I speak to Balin next. He doesn’t jump anymore, he’s used to me now, I suppose. “Look after her for me, old friend. My little girl, now a wise woman.”

Finally, I have worked up the courage to speak to her. “Thora?” She doesn’t move. Maybe she doesn’t hear me. “Thora?”

She smiles and turns her hand over on the arm of her chair, palm up, and mouths the word, “Father,”

So she did hear me. I wonder at this, for I am fairly certain Balin hadn’t told her of my presence. I touch her upturned palm. “I love you, Thora. I always have. And I am proud of you. So strong, so beautiful, so courageous. You will be a great queen and bring great honor to the Line of Durin. Queen Thora, daughter of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Queen of Moria. Farewell, my daughter.”

~*~*~*~

Balin and Thora planned carefully over the next few months. It was too close to winter to leave immediately, as they both wished, but when spring came, they would be ready.

They never again felt Thorin’s presence, but they knew that he had given their quest his blessing, and so they prepared.

When spring finally came, they set out in their caravan, hopeful and excited for the future of their people. They sang as they went. Not forge music, but songs of battles won and of home, songs of what they hoped would be.