Chapter Text
Epilogue: Negotiations
‘It should have been me.’
‘Perhaps. Or me.’
‘You didn’t…’
‘Didn’t what, love? Didn’t try to keep it? Didn’t want it more than my oldest friend?’
‘Didn’t kill someone to keep it. Didn’t kill your oldest friend.’
Déagol sighed. They kept coming back to this part. How could they not? Especially now, watching two brave hobbits do what he and Sméagol had never been able to do. Would never have been able to.
‘No, I didn’t kill anyone,’ he agreed. Despite Sméagol’s fears, Déagol was not blind to the crime that Sméagol had committed. He had been the victim after all. He still remembered the feeling of all the breath leaving him as the world went black. ‘I didn’t, because I lost the fight.’
That was the part Sméagol would not see. That neither of them had been willing to give it up. That, had things gone differently, it might have been Déagol hiding under those mountains for hundreds of years.
‘Your friends forgave you, Sméagol,’ he pointed out softly. The young hobbits had been a wonder, even to Déagol. He had long passed the point where he ever expected to see his cousin in the creature the ring had left behind, but Merry and Pippin had found him.
‘They were very young,’ Sméagol countered. ‘And rather silly.’ The last he said with a fond smile.
‘But not as silly as we were,’ Déagol said with a raised eyebrow. Sméagol sighed and nodded his agreement. ‘So trust them, more than you trust yourself.’
‘Love, I think I trust everyone more than I trust myself.’ Déagol laughed at the response. ‘Except Sauron,’ Sméagol clarified, ‘and Saruman, and those things…’
‘Never trust the things,’ Déagol agreed. ‘Very dangerous, those.’ Sméagol elbowed him in the stomach, then looked startled at his own daring.
‘There,’ Déagol said happily. ‘That’s all I want. My cousin back. That’s all any of us want.’ He gestured down towards the clan house, where generations of their family still gathered. Sméagol had been the last of them to come. ‘They missed you when you changed.’
‘Déagol,’ Sméagol growled in irritation. They always ended in the same place. Always another attempt to bring him back into the fold. Sméagol wasn’t sure he knew how to be in a fold anymore. It had been too long.
‘You would have forgiven me,’ was Déagol’s only response.
They did not move. Not for hours.
That was alright. Déagol could wait.
***
Thorin rested a hand against the rock wall of Erebor’s entrance hall, looking out at the dwarves gathered before him, and sighed with happiness.
Home. At last.
It had been a long journey, and a slow one. None of them had wanted to rush Kíli, even when it was clear that his recovery would, indeed, be complete. They had travelled at an easy pace, stopping regularly to rest.
Kíli had started yelling at them to hurry it up about two weeks in, when he truly was back to himself, but they had mostly ignored him. He’d stopped the yelling once Bilbo had explained slowly and carefully just how it had felt to leave him behind, and how close his mother and Dwalin were to snapping after the stresses of nearly losing them all.
Fíli had stepped in to push the point firmly home and that had been the end of that.
Now, amongst the cheering and rejoicing of his people as they welcomed home their loved ones, Thorin noticed that Kíli, too, was leaning against the wall.
‘Listening?’ Thorin asked him quietly.
‘Hmm,’ Kíli agreed. ‘It’s getting easier. And I like it when she’s happy. She’s very happy right now.’
‘Of course she is,’ Thorin told him. ‘Her Princes are back. Bofur says she dotes on the pair of you.’
‘He says the same about you,’ Kíli pointed out. Thorin pretended not to hear. Mountains did not dote upon their grown kings. And yes, he was aware of the illogic of that thought in context. He was simply pretending not to notice it.
‘Why is Uncle grinding his teeth?’ Fíli asked cheerily as he joined them. ‘He can’t already have found out?’
‘Already found out what?’ Thorin queried immediately, even as Kíli groaned.
‘I swear you do these things on purpose,’ the younger Prince exclaimed in his most exasperated tone, frowning at his brother.
‘Not at all, it’s simply a talent,’ Fíli lied shamelessly.
‘A talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time?’ Kíli questioned.
‘Something that proves you a Durin male in truth,’ Dís informed them as she approached. ‘What are they up to, Thorin?’
‘I know not,’ Thorin replied. ‘As yet they have not deigned to tell me.’
Dís fixed the two of them with a glare. Kíli caved almost instantly.
‘Only that we made a promise to Legolas,’ he said carefully. ‘For when we were all recovered.’
‘Kíli,’ Dís barked.
‘There are spiders, Mum!’ Kíli responded. ‘You know how Legolas feels about spiders. We’re his friends, we can’t just abandon him.’
‘He has plenty of warriors to help him clear the Woodland Realm,’ Dís argued. Kíli shook his head. Thorin saw the ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face he was pulling and wondered whether or not it would work.
It did not look likely to. Dís was winding herself up for a full-on battle, as she had every time the subject of Kíli, or any of them, fighting had come up recently. It was not that Thorin could not understand her fear, but they were all trained warriors and led patrols on a regular basis when they were at home. If Dís decided that none of them could ever leave the Mountain again things were going to get extremely awkward.
Thus, while Dís was informing Kíli that he would not be going to help the Woodland Realm with their spider problem, Thorin looked for and caught Óin’s eye. He gestured his cousin over, jerking his head in the direction of Dís and Kíli, and Óin rolled his eyes before walking over.
‘Dís,’ he said firmly as he approached, tapping her head to get her attention. Stopping mid-sentence – a sentence which had included the words ‘might not even be fully recovered’, Thorin was unsurprised to note – Dís turned to look at their healer.
‘Dís, I want you to listen to me now,’ Óin ordered, waiting until he was sure she was staying put and not likely to start hitting or kicking anything. ‘Kíli is fine. He has healed completely. Other than his unfortunate mental state,’ Kíli squealed in indignation, then clapped his hand over his mouth and tried fervently to pretend the noise had not, in fact, come from him, ‘there is not a thing wrong with him. He is as healthy as he was when he left Erebor.’
‘He might not be,’ Dís protested, sounding unconvinced by her own argument. They all knew that Óin would never have let Kíli anywhere near a weapon if he was not certain that Kíli was fit to wield it. Thorin, having called Óin for support, knew that the best thing he could do was stay well out of the way. Really Óin’s sceptical look said it all.
‘Mum, I promise I’ll be careful,’ Kíli said gently. ‘Promise. Truly. I’ll even listen to Fíli if he tells me not to do something.’
A look of wild joy came across Fíli’s face.
‘While we’re in the Woodland Realm, and only then, as long as it’s to do with being safe while we’re fighting,’ Kíli clarified.
Fíli pouted.
‘Fine,’ Dís announced after a moment in which she clearly struggled with herself. ‘Fine! Go and get yourself killed. Enjoy!’ Then she stormed off in Nula’s direction.
‘So, was that Mum for “I know I’m wrong but I just don’t want to admit it” or “you’ve annoyed me so much I don’t care if you die anymore”?’ Kíli asked wryly. Thorin snorted.
‘That was most definitely the former,’ he assured his nephew. ‘If I were you I would keep emphasising the “I’ll be careful” part as often as possible, though. Clearly your mother still needs the reassurance.’
‘Dís will be fine,’ Óin told them all. ‘She just needs plenty of evidence that this one is actually well and that none of you are going to suddenly disappear. We’ll keep an eye on her. Give her time. Now, should you not all be doing something useful?’
The timing was impeccable. Within seconds of Óin finishing the sentence, Thorin heard his name shouted and turned to see Balin stood next to Kune, who had been acting as temporary Steward. His true Steward gestured Thorin over sharply and Thorin shook his head ruefully as the work began again.
***
‘Nobody ever lets me burn anything,’ Legolas said sadly. Thranduil, fully aware of his dignity as King of the Woodland Realm, and of the large number of soldiers stood nearby, did not bang his head against the nearest tree.
He thought about it, but restrained himself.
‘My kingdom… our kingdom is made of wood, ionneg,’ he reminded Legolas slowly. ‘I can think of few worse ideas than setting anything on fire whilst we are within it.’
‘Spiders, Father,’ was Legolas’ rejoinder. ‘Tell me you would not like to watch some spiders burning.’
Fíli, who along with Thorin, Tauriel and Kíli had been very quiet up until this point, began to laugh.
‘I should probably apologise,’ he told Thranduil. Thranduil groaned. Quietly.
‘Are you where he got this idea from?’ he demanded of Fíli. Fíli shrugged.
‘In my defence it was meant to be a throwaway comment. I didn’t realise he was going to take me seriously.’
‘You should have let me set Shelob on fire,’ Legolas said haughtily.
‘I let you kill Shelob,’ Fíli said. Thranduil was not sure quite how he came to that conclusion; he had yet to see Fíli successfully stop Legolas from killing anything. ‘Should that not have been enough, bâhuh?’
‘This would be better,’ Legolas insisted. Thranduil could not help groaning again. His only child was like an elk with the bit between its teeth sometimes.
‘If,’ Thranduil began slowly. Legolas recognised the tone and perked up, ‘IF you are able to corner some of the spiders in Dol Guldur and you are certain that there is no danger to anything living… good and living… then you may set the spiders on fire. That is the best you are going to get, Legolas.’
Legolas whooped with joy, grinning at Kíli with a manic light in his eyes. Kíli grinned back in the same manner, and Thranduil received some compensation for his pain in the way that Fíli’s forehead smacked into his hand.
Tauriel simply gave her Lord a look of utter betrayal.
‘I am sorry, my dear,’ he assured her. ‘Truly.’
Thorin was not laughing, but Thranduil knew it was only because where Legolas went his nephews were sure to follow.
‘Why do they do this to us?’ Thranduil asked him plaintively, magnanimously ignoring the choked-down laughter. ‘Why?’
‘Children are an exercise in fortitude,’ Thorin answered him. ‘Remember that it could be worse. You could have had Elladan and Elrohir instead.’
That was a good point, Thranduil realised as they prepared to move out. A very good point. One was quite bad enough. Two might just have killed him.
The spiders, oddly enough, never knew what hit them.
***
Two months after their return to Erebor, upholding a tradition begun twenty years before, Thorin hosted a memorial for their fallen. He was joined, as they were on the anniversary of the Battle of the East each year, by the elves of the Woodland Realm, the men of Dale and the men of Lake-town. Following the memorial would come the celebration of their victory, but for now all was still.
All except Kíli.
Thorin and Balin had thought long and hard about who to ask to make this speech. There would be only one, this first year. The funerals had been hard for everyone, and Thorin was reluctant to draw too much of their focus onto what had been lost when so much had also been won.
In the end, Kíli had seemed the best choice. His was the role of lore-keeper, after all, and he had so nearly made the same sacrifice as those they had lost.
Balin had pointed out to Thorin that he and the remainder of the Fellowship had come very close to doing so as well, but Thorin had argued that it was not the same and had won.
Now he simply waited to hear what his youngest nephew would say to their people.
Kíli was silent a moment longer, then began.
‘We all had something we wanted to say to you today,’ he told the crowds, ‘but we could not all be the ones to say it. So my family have given the honour to me and I can only hope to do it justice.’
He paused and took a breath before carrying on.
‘I could tell you that the ones you lost in this war were brave, skilled warriors, determined to the last – but I don’t believe I need to. You know that, because they were yours and you knew them well. Instead I wanted to say this. You grieve for them now, and so do we. I could not know all who marched out in our cause, but I promise you that somewhere here there is someone else who knew your loved one and who holds their memory as you do. We will protect those memories, my family and I, as we have been taught by those we loved and lost. They will not fade. Not just memories of courage, but memories of friends and shield-brothers, of laughter and pain shared together. We do not forget.’
Kíli stopped again, for a brief moment, and Fíli walked forward without seeming to realise he was doing it, reaching out to clasp his brother’s hand. Kíli smiled at him, then started once more.
‘Most importantly, though, we wanted to say this. We honour the sacrifice of those you loved, of all who died in this war.
We also honour your sacrifice. For you gave your loved ones to us, to guard our backs, to heal our wounds, to raise our spirits when all seemed lost. You gave them to us and we are sorry we could not bring them back to you, but we are so grateful. Thank you, all of you. They were the greatest gift you could ever give and our Line does not forget.’
Thorin saw tears on the faces before him. He also saw smiles, true ones, and was thankful.
When it truly mattered, Kíli had known what to say. Had known the perfect thing to say.
Now the celebration could commence.
***
When Bilbo found himself in Erebor’s throne room within his dreams, his first thought was that he clearly needed a holiday. Assisting Thorin with his work was one thing. Dreaming about it was quite another.
Then Frodo and Thorin appeared. Not that it was terribly unusual for his nephew and dearest friend to be included in his dreams, but generally they did not suddenly turn up out of the blue, looking thoroughly confused.
Fíli, Kíli, Legolas, Sigrid, Alnir, Merry, Pippin, Elladan, Bofur and Aragorn followed shortly afterwards and then Bilbo was certain something strange was happening.
‘There you all are,’ Mahal said with great satisfaction, ignoring the look of confused fear on a number of the faces before him.
‘Must you?’ Thorin scolded his creator firmly, eyeing those nervous expressions. ‘They are not all used to your sense of melodrama.’
A number of shoulders relaxed at Thorin’s clear familiarity with this strange figure, but the tension was still present.
‘Those of you who are not familiar,’ Bilbo spoke up, ‘meet Mahal, creator of the dwarves. In this case the apple fell very close to the tree. He is quite as provoking as most of the dwarves of my acquaintance, but otherwise generally harmless.’
‘Generally harmless!’ Mahal interrupted indignantly. Bilbo shushed him.
‘Were you planning to hurt them?’ he demanded of Mahal impatiently.
‘Of course not,’ came the response.
‘Then you have no reason to fuss,’ Bilbo concluded. ‘Focus instead on telling us why we are here.’
‘I was in a Council meeting,’ Aragorn told them with a resigned tone. ‘I realise most of you were probably asleep, but I was in a late meeting and, if I am correct about what is happening here, my Council probably think I am going mad.’
‘It’s good for them,’ Thorin reassured him swiftly. ‘Keeps them on their toes. Ecthelion and Denethor will cover for you. They know their jobs.’
Aragorn continued to look resigned, but nodded.
‘The gratitude is overwhelming,’ Mahal expounded. ‘I have protected you, guided you,’ Fíli and Kíli snorted simultaneously and Mahal glared at them, ‘fought on your behalf, and this is the thanks I get.’
‘Fought with who?’ Legolas asked curiously. Mahal waved a hand.
‘Many of my brothers and sisters. This would all have been a great deal easier if Thorin were not quite so free with his affections…’
‘Did he just imply I am promiscuous?’ Thorin asked Bilbo disbelievingly. Bilbo struggled to contain his hysterics.
‘Mind out of the gutter, Thorin,’ Mahal corrected. ‘However, as you have, between you, managed to create quite the most complicated twist of inter-race relationships I have ever come across…’
‘Not my fault you made my One human,’ Bofur interrupted. Mahal’s glare of wrath had no effect whatsoever. Bilbo was unsurprised.
‘As I was saying!’ Mahal continued, sun-bright eyes surveying them all acutely to ensure there would be no further interruptions. The majority of those present returned the gaze innocently. Mahal seemed to realise that that was the best he was going to get. ‘As you are all now hopelessly intertwined with one another, I have had a very busy few months. My siblings are not, for the most part, particularly keen to give up those they have claimed as their own. Bilbo and Frodo I had already managed to adopt, thankfully. The rest of you took rather more time.’
More than one of those present looked extremely startled. Mahal, realising he had lost them, huffed and began again.
‘We are aware that we owe you a great debt, children. Possibly one that cannot be repaid. I have been trying regardless. I cannot rearrange the entirety of the world for you,’ he clarified. ‘Nor can I alter the laws of time. No more than I already have. Father was willing to have each of you welcomed to Valinor when your end finally came, but what then becomes of Dís? Or Bard? Of Balin and Dwalin? Of Esmeralda and Eglantine?’
‘Left behind,’ Elladan murmured and Mahal nodded sadly.
‘I convinced Father that, while you would be grateful for the honour, it would have its own punishments as well. Instead we have this. You are all mine now. As such, I have some say over your ending place. You will each remain with your people; or spouse,’ he clarified, nodding at Aragorn and Sigrid in turn, ‘as you would have. However there will be a place, one of my creating, where all may come. You and those you love. Where you may be together. It is the best I can do.’
None of them spoke at first. Then, surprisingly, Alnir was the first.
‘Thank you,’ he told Mahal sincerely. ‘I am sure there are some here who will say I am yet too young to have considered such things,’ he gave Legolas a dry look. Legolas tilted his head in response, ‘but I had wondered, and even worried a little. This is more than I had hoped for.’
‘We will be a long time coming,’ Elladan said quietly. Legolas nodded his agreement. Kíli, sat on the floor next to him, rested his head against his friend’s knee.
‘There will be a… door, if you will,’ Mahal said gently. ‘Into Valinor. You do not wish to know what I had to promise my father to be given that.’
‘She will be able to see her father? And her mother?’ Aragorn asked tightly. Mahal nodded. Aragorn’s eyes closed and he, too, whispered a thank you.
‘Off with you now,’ Mahal said with false gruffness. ‘I have had enough cheek for one evening.’ It was an abrupt end, as he had meant it to be. Bilbo, still turning the realisation that he would get to have all of his family with him, one day, barely had time to grasp what was happening before he was unceremoniously dumped out of the vision.
Well, if that was not just like a dwarf. Rude creatures.
***
‘Forgotten something?’ Bofur asked Mahal wryly when he looked around and realised that, of all those assembled a moment ago, only he and Sigrid remained.
‘No,’ Mahal said with great certainty. ‘I have not.’ He said nothing more.
To Sigrid’s surprise, her love actually managed to stay quiet for more than a few seconds. She wondered idly if Mahal could be convinced to visit every once in a while. There were worse ways to get a little peace.
Bofur looked at her, grinning, and she knew he had divined exactly what she was thinking. She smirked, then winked at him. He laughed.
‘Why could you not have worked that out ten years ago?’ Mahal asked Bofur sternly. Bofur only shrugged.
‘All things have their time,’ he replied.
‘Perhaps,’ Mahal agreed, ‘and I suppose it would not have changed the basic nature of things. Or of either of you.’ Sigrid did not understand, and it did not seem that Bofur did either. They looked at one another in confusion.
‘I had one last gift for you,’ Mahal finally spoke again. ‘For Sigrid, mostly,’ he added with a look of mock irritation at Bofur. ‘I had meant to tell you about it now, but perhaps I will wait after all. Off you go.’
Now that, Sigrid thought as she woke alone, was just strange.
She continued to think so for some time. Until the day when, beyond all expectations, she safely delivered their first child.
***
‘My lords,’ Arwen said sunnily as she glided through the door. ‘I am so sorry to interrupt, but I fear I need the King for a moment.’
Aragorn watched this group of nobles, some of the crustiest of the old guard, who had been fighting him on everything and anything for the year he had been King, turn into blushing young boys at the sight of his wife’s smile.
Valar but he loved his wife.
‘Remind me why I do not make you negotiate with those stick-in-the-muds,’ he murmured to her as they passed out of the door, Arwen’s hand light upon his arm.
‘I have no desire to do so, Estel,’ she replied equally quietly, ‘and so there is not the slightest chance of your convincing me.’
Anath laughed, louder than he meant to, grinning when he caught Aragorn’s gaze. Aragorn let his wife’s chief guard see his slight roll of the eyes, then turned his attention back to Arwen.
‘Why did you rescue me from that meeting?’ he asked curiously. ‘I shall assume it was not from the goodness of your heart, given that you will not save me permanently.’
‘Do not be a coward, my love,’ she said briskly, patting the arm she held. ‘I came because we have visitors.’
‘Visitors I will wish to see?’ Aragorn asked hopefully.
‘Visitors you will very much wish to see,’ she confirmed, then opened the door at the end of the corridor they had traversed.
In the room, waiting with wide grins, were his foster-brothers, and with them Merry and Pippin, grinning wider still.
‘You took your time,’ Aragorn commented, even as he bent to hug Merry and Pippin to him. ‘Were you not supposed to arrive last month?’
‘One cannot hurry perfection, Estel,’ Elrohir said airily.
‘Particularly not elven perfection,’ Elladan added.
‘Hobbit perfection takes less time, but more negotiating,’ Pippin concluded.
‘Negotiating?’ Aragorn asked hopefully.
‘No, Estel, you cannot make the hobbits deal with those nobles either,’ Arwen scolded. That had not actually been what Aragorn had meant, but he was disappointed all the same.
He had been right, all those months ago. War was definitely the easiest part of ruling.
‘With our parents,’ Merry told him. ‘It took a very long time, and a little interference from Lord Elrond, but we’ve finally come to a deal. A full year with them, then a full year with you, then back again. Until such time as Pip is actually an adult. After that they’ve agreed to look at it again.’
He should feel guilty, Aragorn thought, for stealing the two hobbits from their family.
Yet, somehow, he did not. Not right now, at least.
***
‘Aulë?’
‘Yes, Father?’
‘It is a better world you have created. Thank you.’
‘You are welcome, Father.’
Fin