so, current word count is… higgledy-piggledy. I have lots of different bits written, but at this rate they are gonna be scattered over the next three chapters. I still have to connect the dots, fill in the blank spaces, and then trim the dead wood. AUGH.
ANYWAY! Here’s a little snippet. It may not make it into the next chapter, not sure yet, but I like it – and so here it is! For anyone who was wondering how Dis feels about Thranduil being in the Mountain… enjoy 😉
“Gimris tells me you have set your son to harassing her,”
Dis said. Her jaw was set and hard, and her eyes were flat.
Vili could see the stiffness in her limbs which told of
aching joints, the carefully-concealed tremor in her hands. She was so tired,
he thought, and closed his eyes to master himself.
“Princess, a pleasure to see you again,” Thranduil said, and
he rose in a smooth liquid movement and crossed to the sideboard. It should
have looked ungainly for him to use furniture so laughably small, but he
somehow managed to make it graceful. “Wine?”
“I am no longer a Princess,” Dis said. “And I would ask you
not to ignore what I just said.”
“I have asked him to find out all he can about this Gimli,”
Thranduil said, turning back to her. He had two glasses in his hands. “I
apologise that he has antagonised the Lady.”
“I ask you to ask him to stop bothering her at work. She is
a busy Dwarrow,” Dis said. “He does not endear his brother to her.”
Thranduil’s eyebrows rose slightly, as though he had not
even considered that. “She would not treat Legolas poorly…”
“No more than Elves would treat Dwarves poorly,” Dis
retorted, swift as a dagger in the side. “No more than an Elf would see a
starving child and turn away.”
Thranduil regarded her in stony silence for a second. “You
were that child.”
Her steely eyes narrowed. “As well you know.”
Thranduil held out the glass of wine to her, wordless. She
glared at it for a moment, before taking it in one crook-fingered hand. Her
breath was coming fast. “I’m one of the last ones left from that time,” she
said then, and took a large gulp.
“I am not sorry that we did not attack the dragon,”
Thranduil said, and his voice was strangely muted.
Dis looked up from her contemplation of her glass. “But you
are sorry for other things, aren’t you?”
Thranduil did not answer. He took a small sip of his own
glass, and his eyes did not leave hers.
She did not flinch from that unearthly, piercing gaze, and
neither did she look away. “Silver and steel all through, my darling,” Vili
murmured.
“Please take a seat,” Thranduil said eventually, and he
gestured with his goblet towards the low couches. “You should not be…”
“Standing so long, at my age?” Dis finished for him, and her
lip twitched. “No, perhaps not. I did not think you would understand that.”
“Perhaps I am learning.”
“Perhaps.” Dis’ look over the rim of her glass was
measuring. Nevertheless, she slowly made her way to a chair and eased into it.
“Well? I’m not going to be the only one sitting.”
Thranduil blinked at her bluntness, and Vili let out an
involuntary snort. Then the Elvenking made his way to a couch, and folded
himself upon it. His robes trailed upon the floor.
“Everything’s too small for you, eh?” Dis took a sip, and
watched him as he watched her back. “Now that we can access the wood and open the
quarries again, we’ll look into making some Elf-sized rooms. You can’t be
comfortable.”
“Is this an attempt at shaming me for my own lack of
hospitality?” Thranduil said, leaning forward. “I swear to you, it will not
work.”
“I don’t expect you have enough compassion for dwarves in
you to feel shame for how you have treated us,” Dis said calmly, and she took
another sip. “What matters is that you’re learning. Maybe one day you will.”
“I am several millennia older than you.”
“Congratulations.”
Vili stuffed a hand into his mouth. “Oh, my lark, you wicked thing,” he sniggered.
“It has been suggested that I cannot change so drastically.”
Thranduil took a careful sip of wine, and watched her some more. “What is your
belief, First Advisor?”
She shrugged. “People change. I’m guessing that goes for
Elves as well as Dwarves. Sometimes they change because they want to. Sometimes
they’re changed whether they like it or not.”
“I find that simplistic.”
“Once, you looked upon me as a child and called me
Princess,” she said, and tipped her head. Her voice was still perfectly level,
and her gaze crackled in the air between them “Then you saw that child wandering
homeless and starving, and turned away. Then you came to us with weapons in
your hand, and made siege upon our home. Then you sent aid to our people when
no other would. Then you fed us when we were starving. Now you greet me as
‘Princess’ once again, invite me into your rooms and offer me wine and a chair
for my old bones.”
Thranduil considered that. Then he lifted his glass in wordless
acceptance.
“Let me tell you a tale, Thranduil Oropherion,” she said,
and leaned back in her chair. “I was a jeweller in Ered Luin. My hands shied
from gold. I loved the touch of silver and moonstones, like shards of starlight
made solid. Yet I worked in steel, for there was little joy in the making in
that cold hard place, and my family needed to eat.
“One terrible day, I held a letter in my hand. It had been
sent from my cousin Balin. It told me that my sons and brother were dead. I was
the last. My entire family, wiped out, erased. My children slaughtered. My
brother murdered. I was alone, and I was forgotten in my grief as our people
struggled to live after our tragedy.
“Gimli came to me. Half a child still, his beard only just
sprouting. I raged at him.” Her lips were tilted in a faint smile at the
memory. “Oh, how I attacked him. That brave lad stood his ground in the face
of my howling anger and sorrow, and told me I was not alone. He called me aunt. He held me as I
wept.”
She put her glass upon the side-table, and stood with a soft
grunt of effort, straightening her back. “He came back every day,” she added.
“Every day.”
Thranduil was frowning slightly as he watched her leave.
…
thanks for reading ❤
Aw Yiss 