The Ties That Bind

Chapter Twenty-Three

While Thorin was busy with Bard of Dale, Eirlys didn't really know what to do with herself. She didn't know her way around much of Erebor yet, not that it mattered. What business would she have down in the forge or in the laundry or in any part of the kingdom, really?

Which meant that she had nothing to do. Madris had gone off to the laundry, but since she really had no reason to follow, Eirlys remained in the Great Hall, and with no where to go, she chose a chair in the far corner, where she was certain to be out of the way.

"What are you doing here alone?"

She looked up as Dís came into the Great Hall, her black brows knit as her gaze fell upon her. Although she was the only one in the cavernous room, Eirlys still looked around, then pointed to herself. "Me?"

"Yes," Dís chuckled, her eyes brightening as she drew near, "you. Did you need something?"

"No," Eirlys shook her head, "I don't need anything at all. Am I somewhere I'm not supposed to be?"

"My dear," Dís drew out the chair across from her and sank into it, "you are the queen. There is nowhere in Erebor you are not supposed to be."

"Is that so? For it doesn't quite seem that way to me."

"Why? Has someone said something to you?"

"No. I mean, Thorin has told me not to go out into the courtyard but other than that, no one speaks to me unless I initiate the conversation and I'm afraid I'm not entirely used to that."

"You're their queen."

"I know that, I was the princess of Mirkwood back home and everyone there always talked to me, even if it was just to bid me a good morning." Eirlys shrugged. "Here, they only stare and wait until I pass by before whispering about me."

Dís' smile wavered, but remained in place. "You are new here, remember. And dwarves are taught to not trust elves, just as I'm certain elves are warned not to trust dwarves."

"We are warned to take care where anyone non-elven is concerned," Eirlys replied slowly, tapping her fingertips against the table. "But we rarely stare as if we've never seen a dwarf before, even when some of us haven't."

"Give them time. First, you are an elven princess. Second, you are an elf. Third, you've married the king—a dwarf more than one young dwarrowdam had had her sights set on. You must be patient, for you will, in time, win them over, I'm sure. Just," a winsome smile rose to Dís' lips and her blue eyes sparkled, "as you've won my brother over."

Those words sent a strange warmth through Eirlys and she couldn't help but return Dís' smile. "Have I, won him over, that is?"

"Why wouldn't you? He seems happy to me, and happy is not something Thorin is altogether familiar with." Dís rested her clasped hands on the table. "He's known so much sorrow and grief, it'd wonderful to see him so happy now."

"He doesn't speak much of his past."

"No, I don't imagine he does," Dís replied softly, the colored glass beads in her beard clacking softly with each word. "I think he'd rather forget it all if it were possible."

"He took me up to Ravenhill earlier."

"He did? He normally avoids that place at all costs. I don't think he's been up there since the battle—" Dís' eyes grew shiny and she pressed her lips together for a long moment, and Eirlys didn't press her. Her sons had nearly lost their lives at the fortress as well. That memory had to haunt Dís to a certain extent, even though both men had survived.

Still, Eirlys was nothing but sympathetic as she let her hands come down atop Dís'. "We don't have to speak of it, if you'd rather not."

"No, it's fine," Dís whispered. Then, she cleared her throat and her back straightened. "My boys lived to tell their tales, and for that I shall aways be thankful. But, that doesn't mean I like thinking about those tales, you know."