Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

Four

Dís

Blue Mountains

Mid-September 2958

"Princess, it is an honor to have you with us, we have long looked forward to the joy of your royal presence in the Blue Mountains." Ímundur, one of the Blue Mountains' many lords bowed over Dís's hand. She knew that she should listen better to him, felt that she should especially care about this meeting because he was kin to her aide, lady Ábria, but Dís couldn't bring herself to do it. Ímundur's eyes were dark and beady in an unfriendly manner, and she felt distinctly on edge in his presence.

"It is our honor to be able to finally return." In spite of her discomfort, Dís found herself returning the expected delicacies. Years of studying politics came to her rescue, the words flowing from her lips her without thought.

"Hopefully, you're coming heralds a new and brighter future for us. Certainly, your arrival makes for more excitement than the Blue Mountains have seen in a long while." Dís pretended not to hear the blatant edge of reprimand in Ímundur's words. Inwardly, she cursed Ábria for not warning her about just how unhappy the dwarrow of the Blue Mountains were. Later, they'd be having a discussion about what information Dís expected Ábria to pass on to her.

It had been nigh on fifteen years since Dís had left the West. She hadn't really missed the landscape nor some of the dwarrow whom she'd left behind. It was true, she had raised her sons in Ered Luin and the Blue Mountains, but all of her true friends had come East with her. The memories that Dís had of the West were of hardship and anxiety. She had been left behind time and time again; abandoned to await bad news.

Still, she and Thorin had known better than to let the reported malcontent fester so, when the invitation had come from the Blue Mountains, Dís and Fíli had set out. All they'd known then were the rumors. Since arriving, however, it had become painfully clear that the rumors had only ever lessened the problem.

Since Thorin had taken the throne in Erebor a lot of things had changed for the dwarrow. Of course her brother had rewarded the members of the Company who had stood by him, giving them all lordships and places of honor in society as well as large portions of the treasure. Such promotions, however, for so many dwarrow of what were considered 'lesser' bloodlines upset the old blooded lords and ladies. Moreover, Thorin had set about choosing new advisors for his Grand Council, basing his selections on their merit, not their bloodline. His appointments angered many of the so-called nobles who had assumed that the return of Erebor automatically entitled them to positions in Thorin's Court.

Dís had worried with Balin and Dwalin about the disturbances, but Thorin had been determined. Nothing would stop him from appointing only advisors whom he trusted, regardless of their lineage. Although Dís approved, and even would go so far as to agree with her brother, the decisions also meant that they were facing a possible insurgence in the West. Folk were, apparently, plotting to reclaim Moria; no doubt hoping that then they could rival Thorin and Erebor in terms of strength and wealth. Moria, the rumors claimed, would be a chance to restore the glory of the old days to the dwarrow. Glory, Dís knew, that only bloodlines and old money could bring.

Dís had disregarded the rumors whilst still in Erebor. The Lonely Mountain was doing well and it was the first time in years that dwarrow had been so prosperous, but here things were not the same. The dwarrow still clung to their wealth, but the robes and gowns that Dís had seen thus far had clearly been taken in. Folks were hungry and angry because dwarrow of lesser bloodlines were prospering. Though Dís would never rule herself, on account of her being female, she'd been in the lessons the same as Thorin and Frerin. She knew well that danger always came when people were upset, and hunger never helped. Now, Thorin had upset them, had threatened their wealth and livelihoods and the blood was up in dwarrow societies. Knowing the infamous dwarrow pride, it would not take much more for them to march against each other for the sake of riches and titles. Personally, Dís could not imagine anything worse than another war. Hadn't she lost enough already? She mourned privately.