Chapter 3

The chill temperatures brought snow to the upper reaches of Ered Luin. The wind blew it into drifts against the house. Dís worked at clearing the porch starting where Jory had broke a path through the snow to head to his shop.

As she tossed a load to the side, it revealed a dark square buried in the snow. She paused in her shoveling and retrieved the small wooden box. Her heart sank as she peered inside at the beads Thorin gave to Idrís.

"Oh, Nadad, you have lost her." She closed the box and set it aside on the bench to finish her task before Fíli woke from his morning nap.

#

Dís situated Fíli in a sling across her body and wrapped a heavy fur lined wool cloak around her shoulders. She then headed out the door, basket in hand. The late morning sun made short work of the night's snowfall, though the air remained chilled.

Fíli wiggled in his sling and kept pushing the cloak away from him with a tiny chubby fist. "You mustn't do that Dashtith," Dís chided as she pulled it closed again.

The babe cooed and pushed again making it a game as she made her way to Jory's shop. Fíli's insistence on not being covered became more problematic as a drizzle started.

She sighed as the warmth of Jory's shop enveloped her as she entered. Thorin's deep voice rumbled as he addressed the Silversmith, "Could you close your shop for the afternoon?"

Jory looked about. "For what propose, Thorin?"

"I would like you to sit in on the meeting as there are several lads ready to find their apprenticeships."

"You wish me to evaluate if any are suitable for me," the younger dwarrow stated.

Dís approached the counter, "And now would be the time to start securing it, as I've brought lunch."

"Namadith, I shall leave your husband to you," Thorin inclined his head. He then turned to Jory. "I expect you in the Meeting hall in to bells."

As Thorin moved past her, Dís grasped his arm, "I found something this morning."

"What did you find, Dís?" Thorin paused.

She rummaged in the basket and pulled out the box, "I intended to bring it by when I finished here."

Thorin bowed his head as he took it. "Headstrong dam, was not my promise enough?"

"She suited you well," Dís snorted, "Pity you did not take her serious."

Thorin huffed as he stomped out into the rain.

"You should not goad your nadad, Amrâlimê," Jory said as he kissed her cheek, "Set lunch up on the table in the corner. I'll close down my forge."

Dís could see the kiln door open, molds cooling inside. She gestured to them, "Can leave those?"

"Aye," he nodded, "They need to cool and I planned to caste them tomorrow."

Dís hung the cloak on a peg and unpacked the basket. Soon a nice lunch of boar sausage, cheese, a crusty loaf of bread, and apple tarts sat on the table. Jory brought over two tankards filled with mead.

"Will you make him hire a maid, or will you continue to tend both households?" Jory asked as he sat down.

Dís shrugged. "I may have to urge him to hire one. Fíli keeps me busy enough with our own home to tend. It would not have been right to make Idrís tend his hearth when she was not his wife."

"She was willing to as his betrothed," Jory replied as he filled his plate, "Though you're right. She would've needed to live under our roof."

"He's hurt by her rejection," Dís looked at the door.

"His obsession with putting his life on hold against something that may not come to pass is insanity," Jory grasped her hand, "You don't have to follow him in it."

She adjusted Fíli on her breast as she used her other hand to organize her own lunch. "I will urge him to seek someone to tend his home."

#

Jory entered the Meeting Hall. Many dwarrow youths, both from Ered Luin and other Dwarven lands milled about. He appraised them as he made his way to where the Lt Kavil stood talking with Thorin and Balin.

Kavil pointed out a small group of older lads, "They have completed their initial time with the guard, and intend to remain on call as they seek a trade."

"You will be want replacements in the guard for them," Thorin stated with a nod.

"Aye," the young warrior answered.

"We'll be needing you to drill the reserves as well, laddie," Balin.

"I will set up tests to judge their skill," Kavil replied.

Jory walked up, inclined his head to the assembled dwarrow, "I am here as requested."

"Ah, Jory," Thorin clapped him on the shoulder, "Balin has a list for you of those with an interest in fine metal work."

Balin pulled out a scroll, checked it, and then handed it to Jory, "This would be the lot for you to asses."

Jory took the scroll and moved to a table. He took a seat and looked over the list. He then pulled out an empty journal, a glass pen, and vial of ink.

He looked up as Thorin approached him, "Choose well. Your son, is a prince of Durin's line and will be expected to be a warrior. The one you choose will likely be who your successor."

"Will Fíli have no other choice? And what if I have other son's?" Jory frowned, "Your sister as left your house."

"And yet, you set a symbol of Durin in the window of your home," Thorn squeezed his shoulder.

"So you claim her still of the House of Durin."

"And you with her. Jory of Erebor, orphan of a House unknown, have joined hers rather than her yours."

Jory nodded, a wan smile on his face, "You honor me. I trust I have proven myself."

"You have." Thorin clapped him on the back before heading off to others.

Jory took a deep breath and called the first name on his list.

#

"Was that wise to tell him, Thorin?" Balin asked as Thorin returned.

"You have known him longer," Thorin raised an eyebrow, "Is there something I have not been told?"

"Nay. He is a good and honorable dwarrow, if a wee bit out of touch with customs." Balin smiled.

"Then why do you ask?"

"The lad at times doubts himself, given his upbringing," Balin shook his head, "And then you tell him he is not worthy his son."

"I said no such thing," Thorin huffed.

"Fíli will need to spend his time in the guard, it isn't a choice as you said, he is a Prince of Durin," Balin wagged a finger at Thorin, "It does not mean it is the Lad's only path, he's not in line for a lost throne."

"Idrís has rejected my terms, what heirs would I have except those my sister bears."

"Thorin, you cannot take your sister's children from her."

"When she's had at least two sons, I will choose one to adopt," Thorin answered.

"That is definitely not wise." Balin shook his head. "When will you let her go?"

"I will need an heir," Thorin stated.

"Should've thought of that before you lost Idrís to sheer stubbornness, cousin."

"I will let them keep Fíli," Thorin crossed his arms, "Their next son will be given over to a nursemaid and raised as mine."

"I will oppose it," Balin replied.

"Will you?"

"Cousin, you have both lost so much. We all have." Balin placed a hand on Thorin's shoulder. "Do not take her children from her."

"Then what do I do?" He held his hands out.

"Go. Take that box and ride after Idrís. Bring her to the home you built and wed her."

"I made on oath."

"Where did you swear it, Thorin? No one required it. What of your oath to serve your people?" Balin countered.

"How does me wedding serve them?"

"How does claiming a sister-son as your son serve them?"

"It secures my line, and gives them hope for a secure future."

"Aye, that they both do." Balin nodded. "One is the right way, the other not so much."

"Dís will understand."

A/N: Where Dashat is son, Dashtith is an infant son.

Neni