At the Foot of the Mountain

Reading Time: 76 Minutes

Title: At the Foot of the Mountain
Series: Small Magic
Series Order: 3
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: The Hobbit, Harry Potter
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins, Fíli/OFC, Kíli/OMC, Dís/OMC, OMC/OMC, OMC/OFC,
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, Mpreg, Cabbage Patch Babies, Alternate Universe, Dimensional Travel, Romance, Fusion
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Grammarly Beta, Character Death (no mains), Discussion-War, Discussion-Torture, Politics of the Middle Earth Variety, Discussion-Attempted Sexual Assault, Discussion-Child Abuse, Grammarly Beta
Word Count: 19,165
Author’s Note: I’m incredibly jaded. I have no respect for canon, timelines, or even LOTR geography. Don’t get twisted. See additional note at the end of this episode.
Summary: They reach Erebor months before he’d thought possible, and Thorin starts to think about the future of his people and what it will mean to be King Under the Mountain. Harry starts to come to terms with the actions he took on Earth.

* * * *

In the end, they’d left the horses in the tent, and Harry had tucked the tent into his cloak pocket so he could monitor their health in the dimensional space. Hermione had provided a length of thick rope, which he’d used to tie a series of loops so he could lash everyone to him to prevent anyone from getting lost on the portkey trip. The whole rope was the portkey, and the short trip could be quite disorienting for the company’s members with the least magic.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“Will this be as bad as the apparition thing?” Bilbo questioned.

“No, this is going to be like—flying. A traditional portkey is quite a rough ride, but I learned the craft them by the dverger, so this should be fun unless you’re the kind to get motion sickness.” He paused. “Like on a boat or say a fast-moving horse?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Dwalin said gravely. “Will this be magically expensive for you?”

“No, the portkey doesn’t require active magic. Once the spell is set, it’s set until it is used. This is a temporary portkey. I can make permanent ones—designed to go from one place to another indefinitely, but we don’t need that kind of thing for this.” He held out his hand for Hermione and his other for his father. “Everyone hold hands—it’ll make the portkey more stable.”

Once their hands were all linked, he murmured the password he’d set, and the portkey activated. They spun upward in a rush of magic and were flung high in the sky. He wasn’t sure which one it was, but one of the dwarrow started cursing a blue streak in Khuzdul. Ori, who was on Hermione’s other side, was giggling.

“The landing should be soft!” He shouted. “Don’t stiffen up and bend your knees when your feet touch the ground!”

They landed abruptly, and half of them tipped over on the ground. The dwarrow were laughing, but his father was looking at him balefully.

“Okay, Ada?”

“I don’t know which way is worse,” Bilbo said. “But that was terrible.”

“It was great. I want to do it again,” Kíli said brightly. “Best ride ever!”

“It was much better than apparition,” Thorin decided. “I like it.”

“I deeply regret not buying a magic carpet,” Hermione said dryly as she loosened the loop on her waist and dropped the rope. “I’m going to start weaving one! I have a book on it.”

“You’ll need a loom,” Harry pointed out, and she shrugged.

“I can build her one,” Kíli said as he stretched and turned. “Oh. I…we’re on Erebor.”

“Yes, not far from where the map says we’ll find the door,” Thorin explained. “This is the spot we’ve picked to camp. We’ll be scouting the mountain first thing in the morning. Nori, I’d like you to go into Lake-town and gather as much intelligence as you can regarding sightings of Smaug. This afternoon, we should build an enclosure for the ponies so they can be outside during the day to exercise.” He turned to Harry. “Can you hide them? I’d rather no one know we’re here.”

“I can hide them.” Harry pulled the tent out and handed it to Hermione. “Before Nori goes anywhere, I’d like to provide a charm for him to carry so I’ll know if he gets into any trouble.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Yes, of course you can, but you need someone to watch your back even if from a distance,” Harry said evenly. “We know nothing about the people of Lake-town, but from a distance, the population doesn’t appear to be very well off. Desperate people can and will do terrible things to others. They’ve been living under the shadow of a dragon for generations, which could’ve caused a great deal of mental and emotional damage. It will make them unpredictable.”

Nori nodded and frowned. He looked down the mountain toward the town. “I’ll take the charm. It’s best if I travel on foot. A pony in these parts will probably be seen as a sign of wealth.” He turned to his brother. “I’ll need to take out my beads.”

Dori frowned. “But….”

“He’s wearing enough gold to feed a family of four for a year,” Harry pointed out. “And humans don’t hold braids sacred as you do—if he were robbed, they’d probably cut the beads free from his hair and beard.”

“I have a wood set to replace them,” Nori admitted. “Bifur carved me duplicates before we reached Hobbiton in case I had to do something just like this. It’ll be fine, Dori. I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to rile you up by taking out my family beads.”

“I’ll help you change them out,” Ori said quietly as Hermione settled the tent down.

Harry watched the Ri brothers head for the tent, then pulled the warding kit from his bracelet. He resized the trunk and opened it even as everyone but his father and Oakenshield went off to get settled. Hermione, he noted with some amusement, and pulled the bridge out of her bracelet so she could reshape it into a corral for the ponies.

“I’ll set two stones above us and the rest below us in a large circle that will include the tent and the corral,” Harry explained.

“These stones are different from the small ones you were using for the camp—they’re larger,” Thorin pointed out.

“Yes, and they’re also more powerful. They have strong charms on them to prevent us from being noticed if anyone comes up here or even looks this way with a looking glass. They’ll also dissuade anyone from approaching this side of the mountain. I think Gandalf will be able to ignore it because Ada’s magic will guide him here when it’s time to rejoin us. We can’t expect anyone in this area to be particularly happy with what we plan to do, so it’s best that they do not see us.”

“And if Nori is caught in Lake-town?”

“He won’t be in anyone’s custody for very long,” Harry said. “I’ll know the moment he’s endangered. I can use the charm I’m going to give him to apparate within a few feet of him and make whoever has taken him regret their life choices for ever how long we let them live.”

Bilbo sighed, but Thorin laughed.

* * * *

“I have a bit of a confession to make,” Harry began as they started clearing the table of the remains of dinner. He focused on Hermione.

Her gaze narrowed. “The last time you started a conversation like that, Harry Potter, you admitted that you’d done something really stupid and dangerous.” She put her hands on her hips. “Spill it.”

He grinned at her. “You’re really attractive. It’s kind of startling.”

She huffed. “Don’t think talking sweet to me is going to get you out of a lecture. What dumb thing have you done?”

“It’s not dumb, but it could be dangerous in the wrong hands,” Harry said, and he pulled a small round mirror out of his bracelet.

She paled. “Oh, Harry, you didn’t….” Her hand dropped to her stomach. “Who is that mirror connected to?”

“Ragnok.” He watched her face as it whitened with strain and her eyes darkened with tears. “Relax, love, there isn’t a single wizard on Earth that has the ability to make me do anything. Ragnok swore on his magic to never reveal to Dumbledore or any magus government body that he has a way to communicate with me. But he’s my mentor, and I found I couldn’t sever that relationship. I also wanted a way for him to reach me if you…If you needed me, and we both knew the portal wouldn’t last much longer. I needed that connection to Earth, especially while you were there. I could break this, but I don’t…I don’t want to.”

“What does the mirror do?” Bilbo asked. “Can it create another portal?”

“Not directly, no, but it does give Ragnok the ability to find me through the various dimensions of which there are an infinite number of. It’s not something I agreed to lightly, Ada,” Harry explained, but remained focused on Hermione. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. “But it’s a path to you that…Albus Dumbledore is dangerous, Harry. He’s obsessed with you—with your legacy and the power you have. He’d do unspeakable things to regain control of you. Had he known how you felt about me while you were on Earth, he would’ve used me against you at every single turn.

“If he were to somehow…find a way to take your father from you….”

“I’d rip that motherfucker limb from limb,” Harry said flatly, and she exhaled sharply. “Don’t doubt me, Hermione. Dumbledore doesn’t understand what I would do for love because he loves nothing and no one.”

“That mirror is a threat,” she said, and brushed tears from her cheeks hastily. “Is it anything more than a foolish indulgence?”

Harry swallowed hard and put it on the table. “If you think I can’t truly trust Ragnok Windrider, then destroy it. I won’t prevent it.”

Hermione reached out and touched the mirror with trembling fingers. “What an incredibly unfair choice you’ve given me.” She lifted her hand away. “You know I can’t say that. Ragnok has forgotten more about honor and integrity than some ever bother to learn.” She crossed her arms over her chest and took a ragged breath. “He can’t be bought—but he could be defeated.”

Bilbo started to speak, but Thorin put a hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“The relationship between apprentice and mentor can be a very close one—almost as close as parent and child in some cases. You trusted Chieftain Ragnok Windrider to teach and protect your son while he was on Earth. It would be profane for you to question his honor now, given what we know. He prepared your son for war, a war that Hadrian won.”

“Right.” Bilbo exhaled sharply. “Harry.”

“Ada.” He focused on him. “He sheltered when you couldn’t, taught me how to survive on a world that seemed designed to be the end of me in every single way possible, and in the end, no matter how it might have served himself and his kind to keep me on Earth—he sent me home to you.”

Bilbo nodded slowly. “Why do you have it out now?”

“Because the dverger on earth are renowned for their ability to handle, control, and kill dragons,” Harry said. “They’re the reason there are no wild dragons on earth—they’re all contained in magical reserves. He might not have ever seen anything like Smaug, but he has knowledge unique to our situation—both his own and what was passed down to him. If Earth really is a version of this world, then such creatures as Smaug once existed there.”

Bilbo focused on Thorin. “What say you?”

“What do you mean?” Thorin questioned.

“You’re the only king in the room,” Bilbo said tartly. “The only leader of any note that can weigh on allowing such a threat to exist here on Arda. You have a responsibility here, Thorin.”

“Well,” Hermione said and pursed her lips. “That’s not technically true.” She glanced toward Harry and huffed.

Harry groaned. “Hermione Jane. I don’t want to have that conversation.”

“What conversation?” Thorin asked as he glanced between them. “What’s not technically true.”

“Last true magical king of Avalon from the line of Pendragon,” Hermione said blithely and flipped her hand in Harry’s direction. “Formally, Hadrian I. Determined so by the Goddess of Magic herself.”

They all stared.

Harry huffed. “Look, I declined that honor and passed it on to someone else, Hermioine.”

“I’m just saying that he isn’t the only uncrowned king in the room,” she retorted and waved a hand. “Tent.”

Bilbo huffed a little, then laughed and sighed. “Thorin, please give us your opinion about the bloody mirror.”

“I can’t pretend to understand the magic involved,” Thorin said. “But I would consider its destruction a disgusting act of mistrust.” Harry and Hermione both focused on him, clearly shocked. “It represents a pact—a relationship forged in war with a deep amount of trust. To destroy it intentionally, with no real justification, explicitly states that you no longer trust Ragnok. Tell me, Hadrian, should there come a point when this Dumbledore person could gain access to the mirror—what would Ragnok do?”

“He would destroy his end to protect it,” Harry said quietly. “To protect me. Even if it got him killed.”

“Then the matter is settled,” Thorin said roughly. “The mirror is to be treated with the utmost care and should only be destroyed by one of us if it could be used against you or Ragnok and his people. It should go without saying that we can’t allow Saruman or Sauron to get their hands on such a thing.”

Harry nodded and picked the mirror up. “I’ve fortified and put protective magic on it—if it needs to be destroyed, you’d have to throw it in a forge if neither of us is around to do it with magic.” He sat down at the table and took a deep breath as he enlarged the mirror. “Come here, love, he’ll want to see that you’re safe and sound.”

Hermione slid onto Harry’s lap as he activated it. He waited just a few moments before it filled with Ragnok’s face. The chieftain of the dverger was silver-headed, though a bit of dark hair from his youth remained in his beard.

“Harry Potter.”

“Sir, I hope you’re well. I’m not alone and would appreciate it if you’d speak Westron for the benefit of our audience,” Harry said quietly as he set up the stand for the mirror.

“Of course, it’s a lovely language—flows much easier off the tongue than English, that’s for certain. My days are full of stupid wizards—Dumbledore has been raising ten kinds of hell regarding your departure. He’s gone before the World Court of Magic and accused me of kidnapping the Baroness and tossing her through a portal to another dimension against her will. Granted, when the witnesses were called to testify, they were unable to lie about her actual departure, and those charges were dropped. You, however, have been tried and convicted of treason in Great Britain for the abandonment of your duty as a peer.”

Harry wasn’t overly concerned about that, so he shrugged. “Fall out for the Horde?”

“Unknown as yet,” Ragnok admitted. “He has support abroad from several clans, and I might face challenge as chieftain.”

Harry’s grip tightened on Hermione. “What? Are you serious? Ragnok….”

“Easy, lad, it’s hardly the first time I’ve faced challenge. I’ve been chieftain for nearly 200 years, and it’s never been without some opposition. A leader’s failures and successes can be measured by how many enemies he has on any given day.”

“How many clans are siding with Dumbledore?” Hermione questioned.

“Five so far,” Ragnok admitted.

“That’s not a small opposition,” Harry said grimly. “They could unseat you as chieftain if they attacked in full force…what about internally?”

“Not a single member of my own clan stands against me regarding you, lad, as they all recognize that you saved us all from slavery and death. Tom Riddle would’ve never honored any sort of treaty with the Horde. Those abroad never much considered him a threat to them, and some would certainly have seen my destruction as a boon to themselves.” Ragnok inclined his head. “But you didn’t call me from another dimension to discuss politics.”

“No, I called to talk to you about a dragon that I have no choice but to kill.”

“Feral?” He questioned.

“Extremely so. Dragons on Arda have never been controlled or tamed in any single fashion, Ragnok,” Harry said. “Conservation is impossible.”

“Hmmm, how big? The going rate is a hundred galleons per pound on the meat and a 200 galleons a yard on the skin. Large scales would be appraised individually for purchase. Small scales would be bought by the ounce.”

Harry laughed. “I’m not trying to sell you a dragon, Ragnok. I’ve got one to kill, and it’s about 200 feet long. I can’t even guess as to his weight, but he’s well over a thousand years old and capable of human speech. He’s deeply magical and intelligent as fuck.”

Ragnok hummed under his breath. “Magical, eh? We’d have to test the meat for consumption, but the skin could be worth at least a thousand a yard, depending on the fortification magic of the creature. Estimate on wingspan?”

Harry focused on Thorin. “Before we discuss that, perhaps you’d like to meet him?”

Thorin nodded. “Of course.”

Harry shifted the mirror, and Thorin met the gaze of a dwarrow from another world for the first time. They stared at one another.

“Ragnok Windrider, Chieftain of the Horde, please meet Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain,” Harry said quietly.

Ragnok took a deep breath and sat back in his seat. “Fascinating. You could pass for my brother.”

“I would say the same,” Thorin murmured. “Such magic as this is beyond our kind on this world. It’s both fascinating and horrifying in equal measure.”

“Such are things that we don’t understand,” Ragnok said carefully. “If you knew exactly how it worked, you’d probably find it profoundly boring. My wife adores enchantment and made these mirrors for us. I used to run and hide from anyone trying to teach me anything to do with enchantment.”

“I often hid from any tutor who thought they could teach me etiquette,” Thorin confessed. “Why chieftain and not king? Hadrian tells us you lead your entire race.”

“It’s a treaty distinction with the humans,” Ragnok said. “A long-dead ancestor agreed to end nobility within our ranks to appease them. We’ve done nothing but appease them for hundreds of years, and it’s created deep divides within the Horde clans that can’t be mended in our current circumstances. Magical humans live and breathe their fear, and they press it upon everyone around them. Can’t really blame them for that part, their own kind tried to burn them all at the stake. It is a very ugly circumstance for us all.”

Thorin nodded. “The dragon is the largest ever recorded of his kind. His wingspan was over a hundred meters,” he said, and he closed his eyes briefly as he forced himself to remember the day the dragon took Erebor. “He was fast on his approach—and his shadow covered most of the courtyard as he came down to plow through the front gates. Considering how he came through the gates, he had to weigh every bit of three hundred tons.”

“Thick-bodied like a Hungarian Horntail, Harry?” Ragnok questioned.

“No, sir, more like…an Ukrainian Ironbelly. Except, you know, a giant one.” He shrugged when Ragnok frowned.

“And why are you picking a fight with this dragon?”

“Because he’s set up camp in someone else’s mountain, and he’s endangering the lives of those who live near the mountain. He killed thousands when he invaded. Things are taking a dark turn here, Ragnok, and I can’t afford to leave a threat like this alive. He could be used against all of Arda by a very dark wizard.”

“You speak of the wizard named Saruman?”

“Not by himself, but I do believe he’s being influenced by Sauron, and that doesn’t bode well for us either. Saruman is currently the most powerful maia to walk amongst us here, and he can’t be trusted.”

Ragnok nodded. “Killing a dragon of this size is not a glorious task, Harry. It’s not the sort of fight where heroes are made, so don’t let anyone get that in their head. I know you hold no favor with heroics of any kind, so I trust you’ll keep those around you level-headed on the matter of this dragon. Do you know if his hide is magically resistant, Your Majesty?”

“I know that no wizard from this world has ever taken down a dragon with their magic. He is vulnerable to puncture weapons if we can get past his scales,” Thorin said. “It’s been done before to others of his kind. Most believe him to be the very last.”

“Then his magic is of a different sort,” Ragnok reasoned. “If his skin was resistant to a sword or arrow, then you’d know his magic is invested in physical security.”

“Right. Thoughts?” Harry questioned.

“I think you may be able to render him unconscious with your staff. Don’t bother trying with the wand, and you’ll both need to work in tandem magically to keep him under long enough for someone to put a sword through his chest. It certainly won’t be a task for the faint of heart. You might be able to hold him down with magic for a minute—it greatly depends on his physical and magical strength. He could prove resistant to your magic entirely. You’ll want to fortify the area so he can’t get out and destroy the surrounding area. Remember your duty, lad, you mustn’t ever let the innocent come to harm due to your actions as a wizard. Magic is a gift that must be respected at all times.”

“I won’t forget,” Harry promised.

Ragnok focused on Hermione. “You are well, lass?”

“I am—it’s a fascinating world. I saw orcs already. They’re hideous. I went to the Shire and met some hobbits, and of course, Harry’s father is with us. We’re traveling with dwarrow—they’re quite like you, actually. They have terrible eating habits, are prone to wrestling when I least expect it, walk around fully armed, and not a single one of them seems to understand that used towels should go in the basket.”

Ragnok laughed. “Ah, it appears to be your lot in life to suffer with males who have no respect for your desire for a tidy environment.”

“Harry made me ride on a horse for days,” Hermione complained. “It was ridiculous. I should’ve done my shopping in Italy instead of New York, so I could’ve bought a magic carpet. We’re camping on the side of a mountain now, but thankfully, I do have my tent.” She inclined her head. “How exactly would we transport that dragon to you if you really were going to buy it?”

“Ha, I’m certainly going to buy it! A carcass that size could make me a lot of money, and if the meat is edible, it would feed my clan for two years. The original portal has been destroyed, but as long as Harry and I have these mirrors, we’ll be able to communicate with each other and trade items. Nothing living, mind you. I’ll have a carpet purchased for you; it can be part of the payment for the dragon.”

She nodded slowly. “Could you make another portal with just the mirror, Ragnok?”

“I could create another, but it would be a magically expensive endeavor. I’d not do it for anything less than a life-or-death circumstance. It would probably require the sacrifice of my own magic if things were so drastic that I was forced to do it alone.”

She paled. “Ragnok.”

“Magic—both great and small—comes at a cost, lass, you know that. But if you need me, I expect you to call on me. I’d have lost my wife and child if it were not for you both and the actions you took during the war. There is no price too steep for me when it comes to my family. Harry, call me when you have more information on this dragon, and we’ll discuss the best way to contain and kill it. Try not to piss it off while you’re at it.”

“Sure, sure,” Harry agreed. “Don’t piss off the 300-ton killing machine. I’ll start with mountain fortification. We have some recon to do for the area as well, since no one has actually seen the dragon in decades. A ward net is my best option, right?”

“Certainly—you’ll need a war ward, lad, so don’t sacrifice power for speed at any point. Indefinite containment is the only option with a dragon of that size. If you can’t kill it, then you have to ensure it never gets out of that mountain.”

Harry nodded.

“You’ll also need a sword.”

“We have plenty of swords.”

“No, you’ll need a magical sword.”

“We have a few elven swords that I can bathe in magic,” Harry said.

Ragnok’s gaze narrowed. “If you’re certain.”

“The sword belongs with Neville—Ragnok. I left it for him. It’s his birthright.”

“It’s your bloody birthright,” Ragnok snapped. “You’re the rightful….” He trailed off when Harry raised a hand. “I wish you had half as much ambition as you did heart, lad. These arseholes who think they can control you would never know what hit them.”

Harry laughed. “I chose my heir, and he accepted the duty of it. Let’s please leave it at that. I may have been born on that world, but it’s not my home, and it never would’ve been. I have no love for Britain or her people—there is no honor in seeking to lead in such circumstances. The Pendragon legacy accepted my godbrother without any sort of rancor. You know that—you witnessed his ascension.”

Ragnok sighed. “He’s a good lad, and his grandmother is certainly doing her part to shelter him from the politics since he claimed regency. Though it’s added another layer of fury to Dumbledore’s crusade against me. He has no hope of getting around Augusta Longbottom. She’d just as soon grind her heel in his face and certainly would, given the opportunity.”

“If that were to happen, I would expect you to share the memory of it,” Hermione said dryly. “It would make my day. Tell Lenore I said hello.”

“Ah, she’ll probably call you herself to see how you’re doing and to lecture you on whatever topic she might have on hand. She’s not entirely convinced she was finished teaching you what she thought you ought to learn.”

“I always welcome extra tuition,” Hermione said with a smile.

“May your forge be warm and your coffers full,” Ragnok said.

“May your enemies die in agony at your feet,” Harry returned and smiled as the dverger’s image faded from the mirror. He turned his face briefly and breathed against her hair. “If they unseat him—they’ll murder most of the clan.”

“I know.” She turned in his arms and buried her face against his neck with a shudder. “What can we do?”

“What are the two of you talking about?” Bilbo questioned. “His people would really….”

“The dverger chieftain leads by the rule of his own strength,” Harry said as he ran his fingers through Hermione’s unbound hair. “If he’s replaced as chieftain, every able-bodied adult in his clan would be executed to prevent sedition within the Horde unless they swear loyalty to the conquering clan on their magic. Since they are very loyal to Ragnok, they wouldn’t surrender or swear loyalty to an invading clan. The children would be blood adopted into the conquering clan, which would make them loyal, magically, to their adoptive families. It would destroy the clan utterly, which is the point.”

“And his clan faces this threat because he helped you come home,” Bilbo said and took a deep breath. “Harry.”

“I know, Ada, but what….” He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t build a portal from this side of the connection. While I could certainly fuel it, I’d need a full conclave in order to actually create it, and he knows that.”

“If he could build such a portal,” Oakenshield began, “he could send his people through it, could he not?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “I…I could not negotiate such sanctuary on his behalf.”

“When you next communicate with him, let him know that if he wishes to make such a claim, Erebor would welcome his clan as long as they swore loyalty to me as their king. I couldn’t afford to house them otherwise. I face enough threats of my own from the dwarf lords of other settlements who will surely think they should rule Erebor instead of me. My own cousin certainly thinks he has more right to my throne than I do, thanks to my grandfather’s folly.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Thorin questioned.

“Why offer Ragnok and his people sanctuary here?”

“I’d be a fool not to,” Thorin said dryly and stood. “New blood, able bodies to defend our mountain, and the return of magic to us? What king would not want for such?”

Harry nodded. “It could be mutually beneficial if things get as ugly as they could on Earth.”

“You owe them this,” Thorin said. “After everything is said and done, Hadrian, I will owe you a great deal. Paying this debt on your behalf would be the honorable choice for the line of Durin.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. “You know we could arrange it so no dwarf disloyal to you could even enter Erebor.”

The dwarrows’ mouths dropped open in unison.

“Say what now?” Dwalin questioned.

“We could carve protections onto all the entrances of the mountain that would prevent anyone who doesn’t meet a certain criteria from entering. Moreover, not a single dwarrow in Arda is incapable of a magical oath. You could require that any dwarf living in your mountain swear their fealty on their small magic. If they betrayed you, their magic would die, and for most dwarrow that would mean the loss of their ability to craft. In some extreme cases, it could kill them,” Harry explained when Hermione hesitated.

“I’m not sure….” Thorin trailed off when Balin made a negative noise.

“None of that, you’re the bloody king. If they can not swear their fealty to you, then they don’t deserve to live in our mountain,” Balin declared flatly. “You’ve led our people through the most trying of times, Thorin. There have been times in the past when you bartered everything, including your own dignity, to see our people fed and clothed. Let one of those sons of bitches try to take your throne—I dare them.”

Dwalin grunted his agreement.

“Let’s get our mountain back before we start deciding who has the honor of living with us,” Thorin finally said. He turned to Harry. “Tell me about this war ward and how it will contain the dragon.”

* * * * *

“You’ll know immediately if he comes to harm?” Dori asked halfway through breakfast.

Harry had taken Nori to the edge of the lake the night before using his broom. The company had been on edge since his departure.

“I’ll know before he comes to harm,” Harry clarified. “The charm will respond to violent intent if it is aimed in his direction specifically. I didn’t want to tell him, but the charm is designed to protect children.” He grinned when Dori laughed. “Parents put them on their small children to ensure their safety. Sometimes they’re put on the elderly or infirm if there is worry they might wander away due to health issues. We used them during the war to keep track of the people who were spying on our behalf. But it was originally designed to protect dverger children.”

Dwalin snorted but returned his attention to his porridge when Dori glared at him.

Harry glanced between them but refocused his attention on the piece of parchment he was using to calculate the arithmancy regarding power requirements to build the containment ward.

“Did you want me to check the ley lines?” Hermione questioned.

“We’ll do it together,” Harry said. “Since it would be best to perform that spell from the top of the mountain, and you hate to fly by yourself.” He glanced at her and found her making a face at her scone. “Why did you do your shopping in New York anyway? It’s hell and gone from Britain. Italy would’ve been much closer.”

“I’d never been to New York,” Hermione said and shrugged. “I was leaving, so I thought I’d go somewhere I’d always wanted to visit. It honestly didn’t cross my mind that I might want a carpet until several days ago. I can weave one if sending one proves to be difficult or impossible. I know the theory and the spells. I do wish, however, I’d spent a little more time learning enchantment. I have books, but I feel as if I wasted time I could’ve been learning from Lenore.”

“Your skills in potions and transfiguration were instrumental in saving many lives, Hermione, so that is no waste at all. Even if most of them didn’t deserve it in the end.” He grimaced and went back to his work. “If there is a ley-well here, and I think there is, building a transportation gateway will be the easiest method of migrating the people from the Blue Mountains, so I’ll want to check for that as well.”

“Why do you think there is?”

“Because the dwarrow were drawn to this mountain for colonization, and it is certainly still very magical here. The magic in the Blue Mountains is fading rapidly, so I’m not surprised to find that the communities there are failing. There are other mountains, so I’d like to visit them in the future to study the magic and how it attracts them as a species.”

“Do you think such magic is the reason why our kind is drawn to Khazad-dûm?” Balin questioned.

“Surely,” Harry murmured. “And it’s certainly why orcs and bloody balrogs love the place as well. The high concentration of mithril is also an indication that the place is lousy with magic. We could drive orcs out with the right kind of magic, but the balrogs—nothing will keep them out. Kill one, and another will take its place within a hundred years. I can’t imagine how many orcs in Khazad-dûm have been killed since they took the place of the dwarrow. Honestly, no amount of wealth is worth the risk of such a thing. A balrog is a corruption like no other. I’d rather face ten dragons than one balrog.”

“Why?” Hermione questioned.

“Because they’re fallen maiar,” Harry said shortly. “And they absorb the magic of those they kill. The more they feed, the more dangerous they are. The darkest and ugliest things on Arda were ultimately created and sent here by Eru, you see. From the maiar and elves sprung orcs, balrogs, and the darkest of wizards. Sauron is a fallen maia—one corrupted by his own magical power and knowledge.”

“And that’s the path you see Saruman on,” Thorin said. “An utter fall from grace—brought low by his own greed and pride.”

“Certainly,” Harry murmured. He passed the parchment and quill to Hermione so she could check his math. “Power—political, magical, financial—corrupts those who are weak. That’s the real problem with those dwarf lords who turned their backs on your quest in favor of whatever comforts and wealth they currently have. It’s worth more to them than whatever loyalty they believe you are due.

“They blame you for your grandfather’s actions at Khazad-dûm—the shadow of that defeat is long, no matter how unfair that might be. The loss of life was horrific, mind you, but it was the loss of war itself that eats at them. They covet the wealth of that mountain just as much as your grandfather did. Though they aren’t laboring under a blood curse on top of it.”

Harry cleared his throat and stood. “Can any of you work with stone—I’m going to need upwards of fifty ward stones carved. It’ll go faster if any of you can help me shape them at least.” He turned to Hermione. “You said you had a rune quill in your bracelet you’ve never used?”

“I have ten,” she admitted and shrugged when he raised an eyebrow. She pulled a slim, black-lacquered box out of her bracelet and opened it. There were ten platinum quills nestled on a bed of black velvet. “Do you think any of them can be taught to carve runes?”

“Ada, Kíli, Ori, and Balin specifically based on their small magic presentation. Though I think Kíli will have the most innate talent with it. Ori and Balin both have dverger scholar traits in their magic, which explains their craft choices—the scholars on earth tended to gravitate toward artisan crafts. The base stones will have the same runes carved in them, so you could supervise the creation of those while I work on the heart of it.”

She nodded. “We’re going to need a lot of granite.”

“I thought I’d steal it from the remains of the Dale,” Harry said, focusing on Thorin. “If there are descendants of the man who ruled that city left—we’d end up owing them for that.”

“We owe his family much already,” Thorin said roughly. “The curse might be on my line, but it brought low the line of Girion as well. I know his wife and child survived the initial attack, but I’m unsure if he has a living descendant. I will certainly search for him or her because if the Dale is to be rebuilt, then it should be under the hand of Girion’s grandchildren.” He paused. “Or great-grandchildren. The lives of humans are so…short.” He took a deep breath and suddenly looked toward Bilbo. “What’s the lifespan of a hobbit?”

“No longer than a human’s normally,” Bilbo explained. “But the Took line has fey blood…and dwarrow. My mother was a Took. She faded in her grief, but her father is still the Thain of the Shire. He’s 200 this year and still quite spry. His father lived to be nearly 400.” He frowned. “I think I might outlive my son. It’s not something I like to think about.”

“If you do, you’ll have our children,” Hermione said and patted his arm before she left the table with the parchment. “Let’s start with 500 pounds of granite, Harry, and work our way out from that. I’ll clear the dueling room and set up a place to work with it.”

Bilbo waited until she was gone before he turned to his son. “How many children do you suppose?”

Harry laughed. “Since she’ll be carrying them in her body, Ada, that is certainly a choice she’ll be making.” He reached out and took his father’s hand. “Don’t worry so much. I’m very magical, you know, and there is no telling how that magic will extend my life on this world. Yes, I would’ve probably only lived a 150 or so years on earth, but this world is very different from my own. Magic lives here in a way it hasn’t on earth in many thousands of years.”

Bilbo smiled and sighed. “I always hoped that you’d be able to learn cradle craft.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “I…I don’t know if it would work, Ada, but when things settle down, and there is time for such things, then I would very much like to learn whatever you wish to teach me.” He stood and kissed the top of his father’s head. “Now, I’m going on a broom ride to scout the area. Tell Hermione I’ll be back within the hour for her.”

Bilbo watched his son trot out of the tent, broom materializing in his hand just moments before he exited.

“You’re a great father,” Fíli blurted out and blushed when everyone looked his way. “Hadrian is lucky to have had you.”

“Thank you, Fíli,” Bilbo said and took a deep breath. “I did the very best I could. Nothing my parents taught me really prepared me to raise a wizard, you know. For the first year, I just fumbled along, half convinced I was going to feed him the wrong thing and Gandalf would have to come save him from me and my incompetence.”

Hermione returned at that point, looked around the room, and sighed. “If it wouldn’t break his heart, I’d destroy that broom.”

Bilbo smiled at her. “It would upset him greatly. Funnily enough, when he first came to me, he tried to make my broom fly. He was devastated when it wouldn’t get up off the floor whenever he shouted ‘up!’ at it.”

“Oh.” Hermione grinned. “Have you gone through the whole photo album?”

“No, I haven’t had the chance.”

She left quickly and returned with the large album. “We were looking at it last night,” she said as she sat down at the table. She opened it to the middle and shifted it so Bilbo could see it. “For his first birthday, his godfather bought him a toy broom that he could fly on.”

Bilbo leaned forward and watched with a soft smile as the tiny version of his son flew around the picture. There was a dark-haired man in the picture, laughing and running from Lily Potter. “Is that his godfather?”

“Yes, a third magical parent,” Hermione murmured. “He was….” She sighed. “He was killed during the war. He took a Killing Curse for Harry—it was the only time that I’ve ever seen Harry lose control of himself and his magic. The results were devastating. Sirius, his godfather, was one of the few people on our world who loved Harry for who he was. Finally, he passed out from magical exhaustion, and the portkey Ragnok had on him activated. He decimated Voldemort’s forces that day—the Death Eaters never recovered those losses. It turned the tide of the war, but it made Dumbledore think that Harry would cross the line into dark magic.”

“Harry would never turn to such a thing,” Bilbo said crossly. “He’s good.”

“There were those on my world who had stringent beliefs regarding light and dark magic. To kill with magic was considered a grave matter, and that day Harry was marked a grey wizard. Here on Arda, being grey isn’t a bad thing at all, but on Earth, it was a sign that a wizard or witch could easily be turned to the dark.” She frowned. “They were stupid—you see—they divided magical acts into light and dark, then ignored intent. They declared the field of charms light, but I can kill with a charm just as easily as I can with a curse. In fact, on this world I’d probably never have to resort to defending myself with a spell I was taught to consider a curse.” She turned to Kíli. “That arrow spell I used to kill the Gollum creature—it’s considered a light charm despite the fact that it’s a conjured weapon.”

“That’s dumb,” Kíli admitted. “Why would they do that?”

“Because charms are easy to cast and magically inexpensive,” Hermione said. “I could cast that arrow charm a thousand times in an hour and barely touch on my magical reserve. But a curse—especially the Killing Curse is magically expensive and corruptive. I doubt I could cast it more than once or twice before developing core damage, though a wizard of Harry’s power could, in theory, cast it dozens of times with no impact. Magical people on my world came to view the very powerful as threats, and a threat must be dark unless they work tirelessly to make themselves invaluable to society.”

“I don’t like your world,” Ori said. “I’m glad you came here—where you can be free to be any sort of witch you want to be.”

Hermione smiled for him, and the young dwarf blushed furiously. She plucked a rune quill from the still-open box and offered it to him. “This is sharp enough to carve into stone, so be careful with it.” She unwrapped the leather sheath to display the tip, then wrapped it back up. “It’s open to your magic, so carry it around for the rest of the day so it can absorb whatever ambient magic you produce. It’ll make it easier for you to use when it’s time to carve.”

Ori took it with a smile and unwrapped it to inspect the tip. “It’s lovely.”

“Ragnok forged them for me,” Hermione said and pulled out three more. She gave them to Balin, Bilbo, and Kíli. “Whenever your hands aren’t busy—hold the quill so it gets used to your touch and magic. We’ll start practicing carving on some scrap rock tomorrow.”

“To answer Hadrian’s question from earlier, we can all shape rock,” Thorin said roughly. “If you give us the shape and size you want for each stone, it’ll be the work of nothing between us to craft as many as a hundred in a week.”

* * * *

Harry set aside his quill and gave the parchment to his father for proofreading. It was the fifth copy he’d made of the base warding stones—so each of them would have their own parchment to work from.

A sizzle of warning slid down his back, and he stood. He drew his invisibility cloak from his bracelet, swept it on, and apparated without a word to anyone. Explanations took time he wasn’t sure he had. He appeared in a tavern, his magic gently nudging everyone around him away. Nori was seated at a table playing some sort of game with a group of men.

Harry shifted around the table, taking stock of the game. It looked complicated, and there was a modest pile of gold coins in the middle. Gambling. He sighed and shot Nori a look that the dwarf had no hope of seeing. It took him about ten minutes to work out the rules between the dice being thrown and the cards. He also noted that, by that time, Nori was losing on purpose. Harry didn’t know much about the middle Ri brother beyond his general health and the fact that he’d been signed on to the company Oakenshield to gather intelligence and steal, if required for survival.

The game ended with a bit of cursing, and Nori left the table with a smattering of foul language for those who had lost. One of the players followed the dwarf out of the tavern, and Harry trailed along behind them both. He drew a blade from his bracelet. The human was several inches taller than himself and probably had two feet on Nori. The man drew a knife, and Nori turned just as Harry kicked the would-be thief’s knee from behind. He snagged a handful of lank hair as the man stumbled with a shout and pressed the blade to his throat.

Nori crossed his arms over his chest. “If I didn’t already know what was going on, I’d have probably dropped dead right here from a heart attack—what with the floating hand and all.”

Harry laughed. “Did you lure this one out for a conversation or what?”

“He seems to know a lot about everything,” Nori said. “I figured I could pay him for information, but if you’d rather torture him for it, I wouldn’t be put off.”

“I’ll talk,” the man said hurriedly. “About anything you want.” He dropped the knife he held. “For free even.”

“I just bet you will,” Harry murmured against his ear. “Are times so lean here that you’d rob a dwarf half your size?”

“Just wanted his purse—he seems to have it to spare,” the man muttered.

Harry considered that and the look of confusion on Nori’s face.

“I only have about ten silver in my purse,” Nori said.

“That’d feed me for a month,” the man snapped. “The Master can’t tax what I steal.”

Harry sighed. A greedy leader could be more of a hassle than anything else in the months to come. They’d have to do something about that eventually, as it would make resettling the Dale a political nightmare.

“I have a rented space,” Nori said and motioned Harry to follow.

Harry dragged their reluctant guest with him as he followed Nori down the narrow street and into a row of shacks that looked ready to fall down. He shed his cloak and stored it in his bracelet as Nori shut the door. Harry prodded the man into the one chair in the room. “Name?”

The man was staring at Harry in shock. “What…are you?”

“A wizard,” Harry said shortly, and the man paled.

“You…you’re wearing black,” the man exclaimed, aghast.

Harry nearly laughed. It was an unfortunate accident of a sort. The maiar were heavily associated with the color of their clothing. “Not that sort of wizard.”

“He is more prone to killing, though,” Nori offered cheerfully. “The town leader—he’s called the Master.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know his real name?”

The man shook his head. “No, he came years ago with a group of traders and stayed. Not sure how he came to be in charge….” He frowned as he admitted that and took a deep breath. “But he keeps us all under his thumb now, using the town militia.”

“Are there people here who once had family in the Dale?”

“Yes. Bard’s the captain of the archers—he’s the great-grandson of Girion, though the Master doesn’t like anyone to talk about that. Every few years, there’s talk about how Bard should be in charge, seeing how he’s a lord in his own right.” He leaned forward a little. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, but when we’re finished talking to you, I’m going to perform a spell on you that will make you forget you ever saw me,” Harry said honestly. “It won’t hurt.”

The man nodded. “All right. Where did you two come from?”

“There are many answers to that question,” Harry said.

He huffed. “Fucking wizards.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m Alan.”

“Nori, go ahead and ask Alan all the questions you have.”

Three hours and one rather robust memory charm later, Harry returned to the tent. He winced when he realized they were all pacing around in a circle, and half of them were geared up for war.

“Hadrian James Potter,” Bilbo said. “You’ve been gone for hours! Is Nori okay? Was he injured? Why didn’t you come back and let us know what was happening?”

“Nori is fine. A man in a tavern targeted him for robbery due to the money he had on him. I stuck around to erase the man’s memory of the interrogation he endured. Nori had a lot of questions.”

“He barely took any coin at all,” Dwalin said roughly.

“The leader of the town, known only as the Master, is taxing them so heavily that the economy is practically extinct. He said ten silver would feed him for a month. It’s not a great situation at all, but we did learn that Girion has a great-grandson in his forties. He leads the town defense militia’s archers and is well-liked by everyone except the Master.

“I can see that situation being dangerous for him when we try to reestablish the Dale. It’ll have to be approached carefully, or we could get him and his kids killed—a son and two daughters. Nori will return tomorrow because he doesn’t think there’s much left to learn, but he didn’t want to disappear abruptly, as it might lead to more questions.”

Thorin nodded. “Let’s go to sleep then.” He frowned at Harry. “You shouldn’t worry your father in such a way. It was thoughtless.”

Harry wanted to smart off, but the little arsehole was right, so he said nothing as the other dwarrow left. Hermione merely quirked an eyebrow at him, which told him he was certainly going to get a lecture from her in private at some point.

“Ada.”

Bilbo huffed at him. “You’ve been gone a long time in your mind—longer than we ever expected, and I don’t think you’re quite used to having anyone to answer to. I know you’re an adult, but our situation is precarious, Harry, so a little consideration from you isn’t too much to ask.”

“I apologize—you’re right.” Harry dropped down in the chair by the fireplace, and they both joined him. “When Ragnok offered to take me into the time chamber for training, it didn’t feel real to me. The days passed, one after another, and intellectually I knew we were going to spend a decade in that chamber, but I don’t think I realized the ramifications of it until we’d already been inside it upwards of six months. It just seemed like the best way to learn what I needed, in a way that would bring me back to you as quickly as possible. Ten years of experience for one year of actual time—that was the trade-off. It was so odd.”

“We didn’t age physically,” Hermione murmured. “That was the part that bothered me. We were living one day after another for months, then years, and we weren’t aging. My hair didn’t even grow—not for what felt like ten years. It was a form of physical stasis that was both awe-inspiring and startling at the same time. Four people left the chamber after six months because they couldn’t handle it intellectually.”

“It sounds like a nightmare to me,” Bilbo admitted. “Hermione offered to follow you—she said she’d be able to track you, but we thought we’d wait another hour since from up here it didn’t look like you’d set fire to the place or anything.”

Harry laughed. “I really am sorry, though. I was just hyper-focused on the task. I told Nori that I would be there for him if things got dangerous and I wouldn’t want the dwarrow to think for a moment that I’m a liar.”

“I understand,” Bilbo said. “And I appreciate that you’re investing in having a good relationship with them. It means a lot.”

* * * *

Thorin watched the hobbit play with a sparkling gold coin for a moment before he joined him at the fire. “What’s that?”

“It’s Harry’s life force,” Bilbo said. “He connected this coin to his magic, so I’ll know if he’s injured or hurt as an apology for not returning to update on the situation with Nori. He’s a good lad, Thorin. I wouldn’t have you think he’s the reckless sort.”

“He was alone for a long time by his own reckoning,” Thorin said roughly. “I’m glad he made amends with you. He doesn’t strike me as reckless at all, by the way. I find him to be a cautious and observant young man. I’d say his biggest fault is an incredibly narrow focus during stressful situations. A focus he’ll have difficulty splitting between you and his woman in the future.”

“How can I help with that?” Bilbo questioned as he tucked the gold coin into his waistcoat pocket.

“I don’t think you can,” Thorin murmured. “He’ll need to make adjustments, and that will come with time. It’s important to remember that he spent a year or more at war. It is taxing both physically and emotionally to live in a state of constant war. You’re lucky, honestly, that he’s as mentally fit as he is. I’ve seen a single battle render the strongest of dwarrow helpless due to emotional trauma. It’s not something we talk about, and such a state often leads to suicide as they can’t cope with the situations of daily living.”

“Do you suffer for the battles you’ve fought?”

“Some more than others,” Thorin said and focused on the fire. “The loss of my brother, Frerin, was a blow so heavy that I had to force myself to speak for weeks afterward. It was important that I display the right kind of strength for my people so that they could have faith in the leadership of the regency, but it was difficult. My sister was devastated by the loss of Frerin. They were close in age and were rarely apart until grandfather prepared the host to march on Khazad-dûm. It was a hopeless battle, and I’m still paying for Thror’s mistakes.”

“If the other dwarf lords look at you and see him, then the problem is not yours but theirs. They’ll certainly expect you to receive them in Erebor with forgiveness, but you certainly aren’t required to.”

Thorin’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. “You’d have me court war with the other clans?”

“No, I would have you put your people first. The people who have stood with you, suffered with you, gone without as you have in the Blue Mountains…they are the ones who deserve to stand with you in Erebor. The others should be lucky if we invite them to tea.”

Thorin grinned. “I’ll put you in charge of those invitations then.”

“They’ll be snotty,” Bilbo warned. “No one does a snotty invitation to afternoon tea quite like a hobbit. I have, personally, spent decades perfecting my ability to both welcome someone into my home and insult them in the most underhanded way possible at the same time.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, first we serve them two-day-old biscuits,” Bilbo said and clapped his hands together. “Then, of course, there is the tea selection. It should taste nice enough, but the more common the leaf, the better. They certainly won’t deserve to dine on the best dishes either—clay or wood, which is best for invited but unwanted guests. Minimal supply of sugar, just enough tea for a single cup, and we’ll have them on their way without dinner.” He smiled when Thorin burst out laughing. “If they linger, then a thin vegetable soup is the first course. A beef roast as the main course—with an excellent flavor, but there shouldn’t be enough for seconds. We’ll water down the ale, of course, because they certainly won’t deserve anything better than that.”

“Wouldn’t our reputation suffer after such a meal?”

“Not if we immediately have another dinner with wanted guests and feed them like kings. The insult only hits home if our unwanted guests understand they were served poorly on purpose.”

“I’m beginning to realize that Shire politics are quite complicated,” Thorin said wryly.

“The best way to insult your host is to clean your plate but refuse seconds,” Bilbo explained. “Then the next time you go to their house, bring your very best dish and eat more of your own food than theirs. Of course, that’s practically a declaration of war in the Shire, but it’s more a gossip war than anything else. Though Lobelia has come to blows with three different cousins since she married into our family, because she’s an unrepentant thief and not a very good one. Everyone who allows her to visit them makes her turn her pockets out before she can leave. She’s stolen my grandfather Baggin’s pocket watch six times in the last five years. It’s one thing to pilfer, but it’s quite another to get caught. She’s a genuine embarrassment.”

Thorin stared for a moment longer then took a deep breath. “Could we speak in private?”

Bilbo’s eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks flushed. “That’s…I don’t know how to take that question, Thorin. In the Shire, it would indicate your desire to have an intimate exchange.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking for,” Thorin admitted, and relaxed only a little when Bilbo nodded and stood from his chair.

Bilbo inclined his head toward the back of the tent, where the bedrooms were. Shortly, Thorin shut the door to his own room and turned to face Bilbo.

“I don’t honestly know what to do with you,” Thorin said frankly, and Bilbo grinned at him. “Shut up.”

“It’s just at your age, one would assume you’d know quite a bit about such things,” Bilbo said and shrugged when Thorin frowned at him. “I’ve not been playing hard to get, you know.”

“I’ve authority in play here that I’ve kept in mind,” Thorin said quietly. “It’s been a problem since I matured and took on the direct leadership of my people.”

Bilbo reached out and took his hand. “You’re not my king, Thorin. The only authority you have over me is what I allow you as a member of your company. Even that, honestly, is transitory at best. I’m not at your mercy in any fashion, and my son would take me straight home if I wished it.”

Thorin stared at their hands. “That’s attractive to me in a way I’ve never known before. I’d like to apologize for calling you a grocer in the Shire.”

Bilbo shrugged. “Fat lot you know, that would actually be a very respectable profession in the Shire.”

Thorin laughed.

“I mean it, owning a market stall is quite an accomplishment. Granted, I’m actually a landlord and rather wealthy by hobbit standards. Still, if I weren’t inclined toward scholarly pursuits, I might have enjoyed operating a market. The grocer always has the best gossip.”

“If gossip is as valuable in the Shire as it is in a mountain, then I agree that it is a very desired profession,” Thorin murmured and carefully pulled Bilbo closer. “I find myself in a place different from what I ever expected—life has been hard since the dragon drove us out of Erebor. Between you and me, this quest felt like my end for a very long time. It felt like my end until the day I met your son. I can’t speak to how or why, but I feel as if my future is no longer written, and he’s directly to…blame.”

“I’m certain many would find a reason to blame him,” Bilbo said. “Harry changed my life—from the very moment I met him. I had a lot of kin to claim as family, but I’d been very lonely since my parents died. Then suddenly he was there, with his sweet laugh and bright green eyes. His magic was equally scary and fascinating from the very start. I invested myself in preparing him for life, though I wasn’t entirely certain what kind of life he would have.”

“Fíli’s right—you’re a very good parent,” Thorin said. “Far better a father than I personally knew. My mother loved me fiercely, but my father had precious room in his heart for anything but gold. The curse had him firmly in its grasp by the time I was old enough to recognize his lack of interest in my siblings and me. He rarely left the treasury when we lived in Erebor and had to be dragged out of it the day that Smaug came.”

“He seemed to take it…personally,” Bilbo said. “Fíli, I mean.”

“His own father died when he was quite small, and he doesn’t remember him at all. I’ve not discussed it with him, but he’s probably struggling a bit with the knowledge that his brother does have a living father. In truth, Kael would’ve certainly raised Fíli as his own if he’d been given a choice. I resent my father so much for what he took from my sister. After everything we lost, when Erebor fell, she deserved to at least be happy when it came to affairs of the heart.”

“I agree,” Bilbo said and frowned. “You’ll fix that, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Thorin said. “I don’t know if my father lives, but I won’t allow him to interfere in Dís’ happiness going forward. I should’ve interfered long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bilbo questioned.

Thorin was relieved that he seemed more curious than accusatory. “My father’s rule was tenuous at best in the Blue Mountains, and after Khazad-dûm, it was clear that I needed to shore up his throne rather than undermine him personally. Dís saw that as well, so we…catered to him in a fashion that was neither just nor healthy.”

“Then he left.”

“Yes,” Thorin said quietly. “And we were made to fend for ourselves in an over fashion rather than in the secret circumstances we’d endured for decades.”

“This quest—it will decide the fate of everyone you left behind in the Blue Mountains.”

“Yes,” Thorin said quietly. “For good or bad.”

“It must have been difficult to find intimacy you could trust in those circumstances,” Bilbo said.

“I can’t deny it,” Thorin said roughly. “Sexual encounters weren’t in short supply, but I stayed…away from the dams to avoid a pregnancy.”

“You never wanted your own children?”

“I had enough mouths to feed,” Thorin said bluntly. “I never told another dwarf in the mountain not to have children, but I couldn’t see bringing my own into the world when everything was so uncertain,” he admitted roughly. “I envy you, your son, Bilbo. I accepted long ago that my nephews would be the only children in my life in this way. I was grateful that my sister allowed me to claim them as my heirs. Ours is not a pleasant legacy. I wouldn’t have resented her if she’d kept them as far from the throne as she possibly could.”

“It doesn’t seem to come with a lot of privilege in your current circumstances,” Bilbo said, then prodded him gently into the chair near the bed.

Thorin took a deep breath as the hobbit slid astride his thighs like it was something they did often, and he hesitantly let his hands fall to Bilbo’s hips. “You’re a lot more forward than I anticipated.”

“I suppose most people don’t push you around,” Bilbo said, clearly amused.

“I can’t say they do,” Thorin muttered and sighed when Bilbo laughed. “But I’m not your king.”

“No, you aren’t,” Bilbo said and quirked an eyebrow. “Does that bother you?”

“Not in the least,” he admitted and found it to be true. “I don’t want to rule over you.” He really didn’t want to rule over anyone, but that wasn’t something he could readily admit. “I just… I want you, and I’ve not allowed myself such a luxury in a very long time.”

“Since Erebor fell,” Bilbo said. “You really couldn’t afford it, right? To want anything or anyone for yourself.”

“Right,” Thorin said quietly. “I feel selfish for it—even now. You’re too good for the likes of me, and I know it.”

“Too good or too soft?” Bilbo questioned.

“You’re not soft,” Thorin murmured. “Refined, even precious—but not soft.”

“You might not know this, but hobbits are quite vain,” Bilbo admitted. “And we’re also easily led astray by praise.” He smiled when Thorin laughed. “You’re going to have a very difficult time getting me off your lap, now.”

“I knew I was in trouble when I started comparing your hair to gold,” Thorin muttered, and Bilbo laughed. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Bilbo retorted.

Thorin hauled him close then and kissed him. Bilbo, bold little thing that he was, immediately sank eager hands into his hair and kissed back. He’d have to tell him, eventually, that playing with a dwarrow’s hair was extremely forward of him. The kiss was sweet and filled with so much longing that it left him breathless. Carnal desire wasn’t new, but there was something so beguiling about Bilbo Baggins that Thorin was left feeling new and untried in ways he’d thought himself far too old for.

They parted, and Bilbo stared at him in the heavy silence that settled between them.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“I don’t think my son likes you.”

Thorin huffed and slouched back against the chair. “I don’t think so, either!”

Bilbo grinned. “He’ll get over it.”

“I’ve gone out of my way not to be rude to him,” Thorin said. “But it’s clear he’s unimpressed that I exist.”

“Frankly, he’s always been that way. He used to look at Gandalf like he was really disappointed in him as a wizard. He clearly had expectations that weren’t being met. Now, I know he just expected the kind of magic his parents did for him, and Gandalf isn’t that sort of wizard.”

Thorin allowed himself to run his fingers through Bilbo’s curls and took a deep breath. “Stay with me.”

“Tonight?”

“For as long as you can,” Thorin said. “Is that unreasonable?”

“You aren’t very reasonable,” Bilbo said and shrugged. “And I’m still here.”

Thorin stared for a moment, then inclined his head as he started to unbutton Bilbo’s waistcoat. “So, you are.”

Bilbo shrugged out of the garment with a laugh, then inclined his head toward the bed. “Let’s go over there and figure us out.”

“Us,” Thorin murmured and took a deep breath as Bilbo left his lap, then tugged him from the chair. “Us sounds very good.”

He shed his clothes, striving to appear casual, but Thorin knew he failed by a large margin. Bilbo, so sweet and earnest, merely offered him a hand as he scooted up onto the bed naked. The hobbit was suspiciously good at getting out of his clothes quickly.

“You’ve been with a male, correct?” Thorin questioned and took in a shaky breath as Bilbo wrapped a hand around his cock.

“A few,” Bilbo said with a sly smile. “Stop trying to put yourself in a terrible position.”

“What does that mean?” Thorin questioned.

“You’re not taking advantage of me, and I’m very much an actual adult for my species,” Bilbo said firmly and pressed Thorin against the mattress with both hands. “Even if I am more than two decades younger than your nephews.”

Thorin huffed. “Shut up, for the love of Mahal.” He cupped Bilbo’s head with a careful hand and pulled him downward. “Kiss me.”

After several long, deep kisses, Thorin pulled the tin of lubricant from underneath his pillow. The oil was thick, neutral, and odorless, though he had no idea how it was made. He’d received his first supply shortly after his physical maturity from the family healer and procured it as needed through various sources. The most recent source was Óin.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just wondering about this lubricant,” Thorin admitted and opened the tin. “I’ve no idea where it comes from.”

Bilbo grinned. “Will it turn you off to know?”

Thorin made a face. “Is it elvish? At least they’re good for something, if so.”

“It’s a mixture of soy oil and bees’ wax,” Bilbo said. “The bees’ wax is the reason it gets so soft and warm in the body. The ratios change based on purpose. Several farmers in the Shire make it and trade it to human and dwarven communities. We’ve been making it for many hundreds of years.”

“Well, that’s better than it being the elves,” Thorin muttered, then focused on Bilbo. “Do you have a preference regarding penetration? Is my size a deterrent?”

“Your size is a delight,” Bilbo assured, and smiled when Thorin laughed. “And I’m open to either. You?”

“Same, and I can come from being fucked,” Thorin murmured.

“You can get me ready,” Bilbo suggested. “You’re used to working hard, right?”

Thorin sighed. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’m great in bed, you aren’t going to regret a single moment of this,” Bilbo said frankly, and Thorin huffed a little as he slicked up his fingers. “Seriously.”

“I know you’re serious, and that has to be a problem.”

“Are you the jealous sort?” Bilbo questioned.

“No, jealousy implies some kind of ownership to me. I don’t want to own anyone, much less a lover. I’d rather earn love and loyalty—in every facet of my life, no matter how unrealistic that is.” Thorin took a deep breath and shuddered when Bilbo palmed his cock. “I’m an old dwarf—my refractory period isn’t what it used to be.”

“I’m the patient sort, and more than willing to wait for what I want,” Bilbo assured and took a deep breath as Thorin caught his hip with his clean hand to hold him still.

He bit down on his bottom lip and rocked down as Thorin pressed his fingers into his arsehole.

“Good?” Thorin questioned.

“Perfect,” Bilbo admitted and continued to move as Thorin added a second, then a third finger. “Oh.”

“Too much?”

“No, no, give me more,” Bilbo encouraged.

“Take my cock instead,” Thorin murmured and pulled his fingers free from Bilbo’s body.

Bilbo arched and bit down on his bottom lip as they came together. It felt easy, perfect, and Thorin shuddered. They moved together like there was nothing new between them, and the deep pleasure was such a comfort that he couldn’t find words to speak to it.

“Yes, just like that,” Bilbo said, voice husky and low. His fingers curled against Thorin’s chest as he moved. “That’s perfect.”

“Truly? I don’t want to hurt you,” Thorin said, hands glancing along Bilbo’s thighs, before cupping his arse.

“You won’t hurt me,” Bilbo assured and rocked down on his cock eagerly.

The pleasure was delicious, addictive, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever part with the hobbit unless he was given no choice at all. He barely refrained from frowning because it was true—Bilbo could be taken from him instantly, and he’d have no recourse unless he wanted to trek across half of Arda to retrieve him.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” Thorin blurted out and flushed when Bilbo’s eyes went wide.

“As long as I can,” Bilbo said. “I promise.”

It felt like the best and worst kind of oath all at the same time.

He rolled them over and groaned when Bilbo immediately wrapped around him, holding on tight in a way he’d never had a partner do. Thorin got lost in it, more enthralled by the needy noises Bilbo was making than he’d thought possible. He came long before he wanted or even expected to, but was relieved to realize that Bilbo had come with him. He sought a kiss, and it was eagerly met.

* * * *

Harry took a long drag on his herbal and made a face at Hermione when she quirked an eyebrow at him. He shook his head.

“It’s your own fault,” she said in amusement.

“Ha! This is not my fault. If I had my way, my ada would be in the Shire safe and sound—fretting over a map or tapestry like a proper hobbit. Instead….” He waved a hand. “Instead, he’s doing whatever it is he’s currently doing with the bloody king of Durinfolk.”

She snorted in a deeply indelicate fashion.

“You’re very British despite your upbringing,” she said in amusement.

“That’s the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me,” Harry told her. “Or just in front of me in general, and that’s saying something. I’m genuinely affronted.”

“That’s not remotely true,” she retorted and focused on her cauldron. “Regardless, it is your fault that you know more about your ada’s activities than you should because you’re the one who put a health monitoring charm on him like he’s a child instead of an adult.”

“He agreed to it,” Harry said. “In Rivendell.”

“Did you explain to him that it would notify you if his vitals changed?” Hermione questioned.

“Yes.”

“But?” She prodded.

“He’s probably not realized that an elevated heart rate can happen for reasons beyond injury or danger,” Harry muttered and failed to avoid sullen by a league. “I should’ve been more explicit. I don’t know how to alter it, though, to account for strenuous consensual activity.”

She laughed.

“Would it be toxic for me to give Oakenshield a shovel talk?” Harry questioned. “I’m willing to own it, if so. I’d just like to know in advance.”

Hermione just quirked an eyebrow at him and shrugged before she summoned a tray of empty vials. Fíli took that moment to come to stand in the doorway of the potion’s lab.

“So.”

Harry huffed.

“Are we going to pretend it isn’t happening or what?” Fíli questioned. “Dwalin wants to know.”

“We’re going to pretend it’s not happening for the rest of time,” Harry said firmly. “We don’t even have a mind healer.”

“True,” Fíli said. “Not that we’ve ever had a mind healer. I don’t even know what that is. I’d ask Óin, but he’d probably try to heal my head, and I’m okay.”

“You are very far from okay,” Hermione said and rolled her eyes. “Everyone is in dire need of therapy.”

“Are you including yourself in that?” Harry questioned.

“Of course not,” Hermione said and shot him a dirty look. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Okay,” Harry said and cleared his throat as he slid off the stool. “I should go brood in private. I’m going to ruin my reputation at this rate.”

“I already knew you were a hot mess,” Hermione said, and Harry huffed a little as he slid past Fíli and left the potion’s lab. “Wait! Harry Potter! Are you trying to say I’m not okay?”

Harry reluctantly turned around and came back to the doorway where Fíli was lingering with a smirk on his face. “So, listen, you took a one-way trip to a different dimension, and the only preparation you did was apparently an extensive shopping trip. I don’t know what that says about your mental state, but it’s probably worth discussing. But you’re a grown witch, as you’ve already pointed out, and went through a whole war. So, apparently, I’m not allowed to question your judgment without a great deal of hassle. Right now, I don’t have the emotional resources to entertain that kind of hassle, but be aware that I’m prepared to nap extensively for future discussions.”

She sighed. “I’m not above hexing you.”

“I know, which is why I was trying to leave and go to my room, where I can avoid getting into any sort of trouble. Honestly, I deserve to brood, Hermione. This whole situation is awful for me, and I’m going to go be selfish about it in private.” He gave her a firm nod and left.

A few seconds later, he slouched onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He really wasn’t all that upset that his ada was having an intimate encounter with Thorin Oakenshield. As an adult, he knew that his arrival in the Shire had totally derailed Bilbo Baggins’ life, and if not for his adoption, his ada could’ve married and had children. Still, a very small part of him had idealized his relationship with his ada and didn’t want it to be changed in any single way.

The war on Earth had changed him, and maybe he’d hoped that returning to Arda would reset him a little—bring him back to the boy he was before he’d been forced to kill another human being. He snagged a pillow, curled around it, and took a deep shuddery breath as a strange kind of grief settled on him.

The door opened, and Hermione slipped into the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, then curled her fingers around his wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said quietly. “I felt your magic change.”

He turned to face her. “What?”

“It retreated within the tent wards—we’re both connected to them. Are you really that upset about your ada’s relationship with Thorin?”

“No,” Harry said. “He certainly deserves to have any sort of relationship he would like with another adult. I would never begrudge him love—especially romantic love. He gave up a lot to adopt and raise me. The other hobbits never really accepted me, you know. Ada always says that he just decided that he wouldn’t marry—but I’m the reason there were no courting offers.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “He doesn’t resent you for it.”

“I know, gods, of course, I know. He loves me so much and never saw a single bit of it as any sort of sacrifice or burden.” He swallowed hard. “I think I created this place in my brain as a haven of a sort—from the war and everything else on Earth that hurt. He was the center of it, and I sought it…still seek that comfort.”

“But he’s not the same,” Hermione said quietly. “To you.”

“To me,” Harry said and took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“Harry, so very little time has passed for your father,” Hermione said gently. “He’s not the one who was so irrevocably and drastically changed by your leaving Arda.”

“Oh.”

She shifted around and took his hand in hers. “It’s okay. Experiences change us, and your perspective on a great many situations and people has changed. It’s normal. I promise.”

“I hated Earth,” Harry blurted out. “I hated everything in the end—the demands, the expectations, and the pressure to be more and less than I am. I won that war for you. You were the only reason I stayed in that awful place as long as I did.”

“I’m sorry that it took so much from you,” Hermione said quietly. “You deserved nothing that was done to you, and you had every single right to come back to Arda. Please don’t ever regret that.”

“I’m worried one day that you will resent me, and regret coming here,” Harry admitted quietly. “You’ve left behind a very advanced world for one that is quite primitive in comparison.”

“Perhaps not as advanced but endlessly fascinating,” Hermione said. “There’s so much to learn, Harry. A whole world to explore where I can be as magical as I like, even if it puts people off a little. Yes, there are dangers, but Earth wasn’t safe, and my blood status made staying in the magical world undesirable a great deal of the time.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make this world safe for you,” Harry said quietly. “And if there ever comes a day when you want to return to Earth, we’ll find a way to make it happen.”

She frowned. “Oh, honestly, most of everyone on Earth can fuck right off.”

Harry laughed and sat up completely as he pressed a soft kiss to the hand holding his. “Most of everyone?”

“It would be easier to make a list that I wouldn’t want to fuck off than to make a list of those who should,” Hermione admitted. “You aren’t the only one who felt used and often misused by the ministry and Dumbledore. I was a tool, and even in those last moments, I was on Earth, his expectations and demands were pressing down on me. I wasn’t free of that crap until I woke up in the Misty Mountains.”

“Compulsion charm?”

“If so, it was being fueled by my magic and failed due to my magical exhaustion,” Hermione said. “I’d like to do a full cleansing of my magic and yours. We’d need a ritual circle for it.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” Harry said quietly. “We can do something private if you would be more comfortable with it.”

“No, I think they could probably all use a cleansing,” Hermione said. “Just sort of cleanse the whole company and see what shakes loose afterward. After we’ve taken care of that curse, of course.”

“I’m hoping it’s anchored in the mountain somewhere. Containment will certainly be easier,” Harry said and sighed. “Go make potions so I can pout in private.”

She leaned forward and pressed a soft, quick kiss against his mouth. “Introspection shouldn’t cause a magical retreat like the one I felt through the wards, so please work on that. We both know it’s dangerous to let our emotions impact the flow of our magic.”

“Yeah, of course.” He took a deep breath. “I wasn’t even aware that I’d done it, which is worse. I’ll do the work. Promise.”

“Meditation might help,” Hermione said, and he nodded. “Arda will also continue to impact and change our magic, so that’s something to keep in mind as well.” She cleared her throat. “And despite the bravado, I do know I’ve got some work to do mentally. There are adjustments to be made that I haven’t even fully considered.”

Harry nodded. “I’m here.”

“I know, and I’m so grateful for it,” Hermione said and stood. “Rest, please. You clearly need it.”

* * * *

“Can we speak?”

Harry looked up from his carving and focused on Thorin. The others were off in other parts of the tent, taking care of various tasks related to the ward construction, but they were the only ones in the room they’d dedicated to the stone carving part.

“Yes, of course.”

Thorin took a deep breath. “I’d like to speak to you about the war you fought.”

“Why?” Harry questioned.

“Because precious few people in your life understand war the way I do,” Thorin said frankly. “I understand what it’s like to be covered in another’s blood. I’ve had the nightmares and the waking visions.”

“Flashbacks,” Harry said, exhaling slowly. “Those waking visions are also called flashbacks. Hermione could tell you all about a condition called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is caused by mental, physical, and emotional trauma. I focused on physical and magical healing in my studies. It was probably, in retrospect, a misstep. I feel removed from the war I fought. The further I get from it, the less it…hurts.”

“That’s both good and bad,” Thorin said and cleared his throat. “I knew a dwarf once who eventually took his own life for fear he would hurt someone he loved. But before he got to that point, there was one battle after another. In fact, he hunted and killed so many orcs that he earned the name Orcslayer. Dorn Orcslayer. I’ve not thought of him in many decades. He grew so callous, so removed from the battles that he fought that he died believing himself heartless.”

“And yet his final act was one done in love,” Harry said quietly.

“Yes,” Thorin said in agreement. “His wife never remarried. She told me once that no one would ever love her the way he did, and she wasn’t interested in living with the disappointment.”

“Dwarrow don’t love easy, right?”

“It tends to happen to us once, and our hearts, once earned, remain steadfast,” Thorin agreed. “Though there are those who aren’t interested in romantic or physical love.”

“Is that accepted amongst your kind?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, of course,” Thorin said. “It’s perfectly reasonable for a dwarrow to prefer their craft to anything else. I believe my own father was craftborn and only married out of duty. My parents’ marriage was arranged, and they didn’t share…anything that I can remember. I regret that for them both. My mother made immense sacrifices to provide the line of Durin with a direct heir.”

Harry nodded slowly and focused on the stone he was carving. “Do you believe in fate or destiny?”

“No.”

“Gandalf seemed to think that there were circumstances we would face in the future that we can’t change,” Harry said. “He didn’t want me to interfere in whatever was coming.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I think that fate and prophecy have already led me down a deeply painful and unrewarding path,” Harry said, and Thorin nodded. “The fighting did take a lot out of me. But the politics of the whole situation were demoralizing as fuck. I wasn’t what they wanted or expected, and that was made perfectly clear to me repeatedly. The Death Eaters, our enemy, were disgusting and unreasonable.”

“But?” Thorin prodded.

“I don’t think the side I fought for was all that much better,” Harry confessed. “Just a different shade of fucked up.” He waved a hand and cleared his throat. “It is what it is.”

“The first time I killed it was one of my own,” Thorin said, and Harry lifted the carving quill off the stone to stare at him.

“What?”

“I was young for my kind—just fifty. Battle-ready as far as many were concerned, but a child by own mother’s estimation. She still invested a lot of her time in protecting me from duties and situations she felt me unprepared for. We had visitors from the Ironfists clan, and one dwarf expressed an inappropriate amount of interest in my sister, who is a full twenty years younger than me.”

“So, she was a child.”

“Yes, very much so by any reasonable standard amongst my people. But she’s also beautiful, uncommonly so, and our mother was very protective of her. At any rate, the visiting dwarrow were given a lot of freedom within the mountain, and that lax security created a circumstance where one of the visitors was able to get far too close to Dís.”

“Did he hurt her?” Harry questioned quietly.

“Sex crimes are very rare amongst my kind, so rare that most consider such behavior a myth or a human failing exclusively,” Thorin said quietly. “But deviance happens. I came upon the two of them—she was struggling against him. He threatened her, told her that she should be honored to have his attention.”

“And you killed him.”

“Yes,” Thorin admitted. “It was politically unsound and caused bad blood between my family and his. His father was an advisor to the Lord of the Iron Hills. I’m pretty sure that arsehole is advising my cousin Dain even now. At any rate, I came upon them, and I killed him with a knife. My sister left the altercation furious that I’d gotten blood on her dress, but basically unharmed.”

“And you walked away from it with the blood of another dwarf on your hands,” Harry said.

“Yes, and some might think it shouldn’t matter. Killing is killing to them—be it orc, human, dwarf, or anything in between, but it’s not. It’s different when it’s your own. That was your experience on Earth, right?”

“Yes, almost exclusively. I don’t necessarily regret any of it because they were all irredeemable bastards, but I didn’t fight a war of my own making. At most, I put a temporary stop to a conflict on that world that is generational and seems to have no end. The way they hate each other is obscene. It makes it difficult for me to take any side’s objectives or goals with any kind of seriousness. I certainly couldn’t dedicate myself to either side as a life-long endeavor, which is why I’m here.”

“In a conflict, there’s never just two sides,” Thorin said. “Because bias, perspective, and personal agendas shape motivations in any organization or individual.”

“It was like I was fighting two different wars, in the end,” Harry said. “Did Hermione send you in here?”

“No,” Thorin said. “Your father did.”

Harry huffed. “Right.” He slouched forward, and little then put aside the quill. “I don’t want to worry him.”

“Ah, well, such worry comes with love, and he loves you very much,” Thorin said. “Expecting anything different would just be a waste of time.”

“I get that,” Harry said. “I just wish for something different, that’s all.”

“He’s also concerned that our friendship has upset you unduly.”

“Friendship?” Harry questioned and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to be discreet, lad,” Thorin said roughly. “Which isn’t exactly a trait I’ve ever excelled at. I grew up in circumstances that didn’t require it at all.”

Harry laughed a little. “I suppose not. The Crown Prince of Erebor did as he wished, correct?”

“Within a certain structure, as my grandfather did have expectations, but we’ve already discussed those. He didn’t care what I did in personal matters as long as I conducted myself well in the matters of duty and education.”

“And he had ideas about that education.”

“Very strict ones,” Thorin agreed.

“I don’t begrudge my ada friendship on any level,” Harry said quietly. “And I wouldn’t have you think otherwise. I want him to be happy and cared for in every single way. He gave up a lot to raise me, not that he will ever admit it was any sort of sacrifice.”

“And yet?”

Harry sighed. “I suppose he could do worse. I don’t know how, but I’m sure he could.”

“I suppose it was too much to ask for him to have raised a reasonable child,” Thorin muttered and stood. He paused then and focused on Harry. “Talk to us about the war you fought, Hadrian. Don’t let it fester in you; it’ll ruin you in ways you can’t currently fathom. Not a single dwarrow in the company is unfamiliar with the fatigue caused by battle. If it can’t be me, I recommend Dwalin. He’s been a master of the war arts for over a hundred years.”

“I’m not strictly opposed to speaking with you about it,” Harry admitted. “I’m just in an unreasonable place, even my own estimation, which has very little to do with you and everything to do with the fantasy I created in my head to cope with being on Earth.”

“I used to dream of returning to Erebor,” Thorin said quietly, and Harry met his gaze. “In my mind, it’s still beautiful with hand-carved vaulted ceilings and marble-lined floors. The beds are warm, inviting, and prepared with the finest of linens. The kitchens are bustling, rich with the smells of roasting meat and baking bread.” He cleared his throat. “I know it’s not true—I know it’s been fouled in a thousand different ways just because Smaug is nesting in it. The home I lost will never be the same—not in my lifetime, perhaps not ever. It’s heartbreaking.” He tapped the table gently. “Take comfort where you can as well. Healing from war begins in the heart, no matter the physical injuries involved.”

Harry just nodded and focused on his work as Thorin left. His mirror signaled from his pocket, and he pulled it out. Ragnok’s face filled it as soon as he activated it.

“Sir.”

Ragnok stared for a moment and sat back a little, revealing the fact that he was in his office. “How is the ward construction going?”

“We’ve sourced most of the materials, and several of the dwarrow are helping me carve the runes. It’s going well,” Harry said quietly. “Do you have some kind of monitor on my mirror?”

“It has all the magic you agreed to and nothing more,” Ragnok said. “Why?”

“Just checking to see how much coddling I’m going to have to endure,” Harry muttered, and Ragnok raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not adjusting as well as I thought I would.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Ragnok said. “I’d be concerned if you were the sort to shake off so much death and destruction easily.”

“You know what pisses me off?” Harry questioned and set up the mirror to stand on its own. “None of them would give a toss in my place—not a single Death Eater would feel guilty about their actions. They wouldn’t care if they’d killed me.”

“Having a morally bankrupt enemy is a comfort of a sort,” Ragnok pointed out. “There’s no need to concern yourself with the probability that redemption was possible. Every single person you killed in the war had it coming.”

“Over a hundred,” Harry said quietly, and Ragnok nodded. “I don’t know the exact number. Should I know the exact number?”

“No.” Ragnok grimaced. “Never count your kills, Harry. Not ever. It’s an act of madness. It’s okay to regret what you were made to do, you know.”

“They don’t deserve my regret, any more than they deserved mercy,” Harry said roughly. “Because you’re right—none of them were redeemable. It’s just the further I get from the events, the more I realize that most of the people I fought with on the so-called Light side were literally no better. They were just a different brand of awful. Dumbledore wanted to control me as much as Voldemort wanted to kill me. He’s a dark lord in his own right, you know. Please don’t doubt that and don’t underestimate him.”

“I won’t. I’ve always known that he’s a problem.”

“Speaking of problems, how are things going?” Harry asked.

“It varies by the day,” Ragnok admitted. “Many of the clan leaders find fault with me regarding your circumstances, and it doesn’t help that the International Judiciary is concerned I might have violated a treaty with the humans by helping you leave Earth.”

“I thought all of those treaties were bound up in magical oaths,” Harry said.

“A few of the older ones were built on blood pacts, and the one in question—not a single dverger is left alive in the bloodline that signed it. So, it’s not magically damaging, but it could impact other treaties. I have a legal scholar from France reviewing the matter for me.”

“Can you trust him?”

“The Paris branch has sided with me on the issue so far, so has Rome. My main opposition is coming from Egypt and New York—smaller clans around those two clans are falling on their side merely for their own protection. They don’t want to risk hostility due to proximity.”

Harry nodded. “Thorin Oakenshield has offered to give your clan sanctuary should it become necessary. Though you’d all be required to accept him as king.”

Ragnok stared for a moment. “What?”

“Right?” Harry said and cast a privacy charm. “His clan is small, and he won’t be able to hold Erebor unless the other dwarf lords take a knee without discussion. That circumstance isn’t likely, as they find deep fault with his line due to previous losses and because of the dragon. He has a lot to lose, and he also understands how much your clan has to offer both his people and Erebor herself.”

“We’ve not lived free of the humans’ regulations in many thousands of years,” Ragnok said quietly. “Do you think he’s been explicit regarding his motivations and intentions?”

“Yes, he’s honest in his intent, and he…said that he will owe me a debt after everything is said and done. He believes it would be appropriate to pay that debt by settling the debt he sees between you and me.”

Ragnok stared for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Let me think about this. If you can do it honorably, don’t let it be known that I questioned his integrity.”

“You’re entitled to privacy,” Harry said quietly. “And it’s a big risk. I don’t think anyone here would be upset to learn that you hesitated. You don’t know this world, you don’t know him.”

“No, but I know you,” Ragnok said. “Can I trust him? Can I trust this offer if the need becomes dire?”

“Yes.”

* * * *

Bilbo watched his son settle at the table for second breakfast. He looked like he’d slept well at least, and the stress of the day before seemed to have eased. He’d given Harry space after the conversation with Thorin because he hadn’t wanted to increase the pressure or make his son believe he had no choice but to bare his soul for practically everyone.

The work schedule they’d developed kept everyone busy and involved in the project. Bilbo thought that was a good thing, as the company’s purpose had changed drastically since his son’s arrival. Everyone ate in silence, and it didn’t feel oppressive. Bombur had handled most of the cooking because Bilbo had let Thorin keep him in bed late.

He couldn’t fault the results as he’d rarely been so sated in his life. Hobbits indulged themselves; it was just their nature, and sex was no exception. Bilbo was trying to keep his expectations low as he knew, fundamentally, that a dwarf of Thorin’s age wasn’t married because he had no real desire to marry at all. Maybe that had been circumstantial, and things would change once Erebor was freed of Smaug. If Thorin married in the future, it would probably be for political reasons.

Still, Bilbo knew better than to think it could mean anything for him. It was best to let things happen as they should and not worry about what might happen in the future. Thorin’s interest was certainly avid in the moment, but there had been others in the past who’d been just as passionately invested in physical pleasure. Those relationships had fizzled away when confronted with the realities of Bilbo’s life with an adopted magical child.

Thorin wasn’t put off by the magic and seemed to be embracing his own small magical abilities in a way that was quite comforting. No one in the Shire had ever been interested in admitting their own magic, much less exploring it. The food was good and filling, and the company drifted away in pairs to work.

“Ada.”

Bilbo looked up from his empty plate and found Harry staring at him. “Did you want some more food? We put the extras in the cooling cabinet.”

“No, I’m full,” Harry said, and cupped his hands around the cup he still had. “You’re worried about me, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Well, I’ve always worried over you,” Bilbo said frankly, and his son smiled briefly. “I am concerned about what you experienced on Earth, and what it has done to you. I can’t relate to it, really, and I don’t know how to help you.”

“Being here is helping,” Harry said quietly. “It’s everything I wanted when I was there.” He paused. “Well, I mean, I could do without the dragon and the orcs. But nothing I’m doing right now feels as heavy as a single day I spent on Earth. They demanded so much from me and offered practically nothing in return—not even loyalty.”

“That’s the part that burns then,” Bilbo said quietly. “After everything you did, the vast majority of them couldn’t be bothered to have your back.”

“It hurt,” Harry admitted roughly. “I tried to make excuses for their behavior, at first, but there came a point when I couldn’t. They weren’t as twisted as the Death Eaters, but in the end, they weren’t all that better. My parents sacrificed themselves to protect me, Ada. Did they really understand how corrupt their own side was? Did they care?”

“They sent you here,” Bilbo said. “I think that tells you everything you need to know about what they knew in the end. They couldn’t have predicted that the portal would stay stable long enough for you to eventually return.”

“No, you’re right,” Harry said quietly. “It wouldn’t have lasted if the dverger hadn’t retrieved it and maintained it for decades. Though they might have assumed that Dumbledore would do it. I won’t deny that I’m struggling, Ada, but I’m not going to wallow in trauma. I recognize it’s not healthy, and that I need to do the work.” He poured himself some more coffee and added a small amount of sugar.

“You used to drink it with more milk than coffee,” Bilbo said with a smile.

“Well, I used to only drink so I could feel like a grown-up,” Harry said and laughed when Bilbo did. “I killed a lot of people, Ada. People like me.” He paused. “Well, we were the same species. Nothing about growing up in the Shire prepared me for the kind of depravity I experienced on Earth. They fought for power, destroyed each other for ideas and opinions. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever known. I grew to loathe many of them, and hating my world of origin is galling. At the end of the day, the very best part of Earth is here with me.”

“Still struggling with that?” Bilbo questioned.

“She gave up a lot,” Harry said. “More than any of you will truly ever understand. It’s not just about titles and wealth—though she had both. She gave up a very advanced world full of knowledge and people that would’ve enriched her intelligence for a world that is utterly primitive compared to her own. I’m not sure she’s fully grasped what she sacrificed, yet.” He waved a hand. “Most of Arda doesn’t even have indoor plumbing.”

Bilbo made a face. “What?”

Harry laughed. “Truly, Ada.”

“That’s not true,” his father said with a scoff. “Where do humans do their private business? I’ve seen bathing rooms in the inn in Bree.”

“Outdoor latrine ditches that sometimes have a structure covering them, but not always,” Harry said, and his father’s mouth dropped open. “They carry water inside for baths as necessary.”

“But….” Bilbo made a face. “Thorin!”

Thorin left the workroom directly off the central living area with a raised eyebrow. “You yelled?”

Bilbo huffed. “Humans have indoor toilets, right?”

“Large cities like Gondor are advanced enough to have plumbing,” Thorin allowed. “But public bath houses and latrine ditches are far more common. Smaller villages that are isolated and uninterested in trade with other races don’t have the kind of advances the rest of us do. Many of the comforts you enjoy in the Shire came from the elves and the Dúnedain, did they not?”

“After a fashion,” Bilbo said with a scowl.

“I’ve seen private rooms in taverns, in small human settlements, for waste disposal, but they were often little more than a hole in the ground, with a wooden bench across it,” Thorin said roughly. “Why are you two discussing such a thing?”

“I was pointing out to Ada that Arda is very different from Earth,” Harry said. “And that Hermione has adjustments to make that she’s not begun to comprehend. She probably really will start a newsletter about clean water within the year.”

Thorin made a face. “Pick a new, less disgusting example.” Then he went back into the workroom, shaking his head.

Bilbo huffed as he disappeared. “Maybe I am spoiled.”

“A bit,” Harry said with a smile. “I’d have it no other way, though.”

* * * *

Thorin took a deep breath, and the air in front of him clouded briefly. The mountain loomed large in front of him. To the left, he could see the statues that guarded the entrance—one was intact and the other broken beyond repair. He was only a few feet from the tent, but the distance felt weirdly long. They’d spent too much time in a dimensional pocket, perhaps, and the safety of it had settled on them all in different ways.

Fíli sat down beside him silently and huddled close. Thorin threw his coat around his nephew, and the lad burrowed close like he often had as a dwarfling.

“Something wrong?” Thorin questioned.

“No.”

“There’s no need to deny it,” Thorin said. “I see it in you.”

“Kíli has a father,” Fíli said in a small voice. “I mean, he always did, and I don’t remember mine at all.”

“Víli was an honorable dwarf,” Thorin said. “The marriage was arranged, of course, because your mother…stopped caring who she would marry when she was denied the one she wanted. That’s nothing for you to be guilty for, lad. It had nothing to do with you. Your father was good to your mother; don’t ever doubt that. I made sure of it.”

“Okay,” Fíli said. “I always…it hurts that she didn’t love him.”

“I can’t say that’s true,” Thorin said. “She accepted the marriage, had a child with him, and did nothing to disparage the marriage in any single way. There was respect, friendship, and certainly love there.”

“But not romantic love,” Fíli said. “Do you think…I don’t have a one. I’ve never felt the longing.”

“How do you feel about Duma?” Thorin questioned.

“She’s absolutely lovely, and I adore her,” Fíli said and sighed. “I miss her dreadfully, and there’s not a single distraction to be found. I hope she’s not…what if she falls in love with someone while I’m gone?”

“Do you want to go back to the Blue Mountains? I’m sure Hadrian could…make it happen if we asked. Though I’m not certain how that trip would go. It’s a very long distance from here.”

“No.” He paused. “Yes, but I know my place is here at your side. I can’t…it would be politically unsound to not be at your side when you claim Erebor, Uncle. I’m your heir. I understand my duty even if I like to pretend I don’t.”

“I never wanted to be king,” Thorin confessed and focused on the mountain in front of them as Fíli took a deep breath. “I see the same in you. When the time comes, I won’t be disappointed if you say no.”

“I don’t want it,” Fíli admitted. “But I accept the duty of it because wanting to be king seems like a vanity that we can’t allow for our people. You sacrificed so much, perhaps too much, for us over the years. I see it. Everyone sees it, Thorin, and I won’t…be the one to disrespect in word or deed.” He paused. “Provided we tear out that whole page about the trolls in Ori’s journal.”

Thorin laughed and hugged him close. “Honestly, some distance has made that whole situation quite amusing.”

“For you,” Fíli muttered. “You won’t be the one that history blames for nearly getting the King Under the Mountain eaten by trolls.”

Thorin snorted. “Blame Kíli. It’s what little brothers are for.”

“I heard that,” Kíli said as he settled down on the ground on his other side and snuck under Thorin’s coat without an invitation. “I don’t care. I’ll take the blame. It’s funny now.”

Thorin pulled him close. “Why are the two of you out here?”

“Just checking in,” Kíli said. “You’ve not left the tent since we arrived, and it must be hard to be this close to Erebor after so long.”

“Yes,” Thorin admitted. “It’s a terrible legacy—even without the dragon.”’

“How long do you think our bloodline has been cursed?” Fíli questioned.

“Long enough to destroy us,” Thorin admitted. “Maybe the damage can’t be undone.”

“What if we can’t kill the dragon and Harry has to lock him in the mountain forever?” Kíli asked. “What will we do?”

“There are other mountains,” Thorin said and frowned. “Orc-infested mountains that we’d have to…clean out.”

“We won’t have a choice. It’s clear that we need a new mountain—the one in the Blue Mountains won’t last much longer. The resources are dwindling rapidly. There won’t be much to mine for any purpose within the next decade,” Fíli said. “It’s obvious.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, because there was no point in denying it.  “We’ll do what we must, just as we’ve always done.”

“We’re going to ignore this whole thing you’re doing with Bilbo,” Fíli blurted out, and Thorin huffed.

“Talking about it is not ignoring it,” Kíli muttered.

Fíli sighed. “I think Harry was upset, though.”

“Upset in general,” Thorin said. “Not specifically about his father and me having a friendship.”

“Friendship.” Kíli made a little nose. “I never have friends like that.”

“That’s because you ignore everyone interested,” Fíli said with a laugh. “Your bed is empty because you want it that way, Kíli.”

Thorin noted that Kíli didn’t even try to protest that. He didn’t know if the lad had ever had a lover and didn’t think it was any of his business. His youngest nephew had started talking about his One when he’d been very young and had also professed to preferring males exclusively around the same time. Dís had guarded his heart vigorously and had even prevented their father from arranging a marriage more than once.

“There’s nothing wrong with your choices, Kíli,” Thorin said in the silence that settled around them, and his nephew relaxed against him completely. “I’ve learned along the way that personal comfort can’t always be sacrificed for the needs of others. It’s a hard line for a leader, and I know you both have taken on lessons I wish you hadn’t.”

“The clan comes first,” Fíli said.

Thorin took a deep breath. “It’s what I learned to make a priority. My grandfather and father didn’t hold the same belief—they both tried to teach me to hold the crown dear first and foremost.”

“That’s not the kind of king I’d want to be,” Fíli murmured. “It’s not the kind of king you are, coronation or not.”

“Why haven’t you accepted the crown formally?” Kíli questioned.

“Part of it is grief and perhaps concern that my father would return.”

“Is he dead?” Fíli questioned. “Should we worry that he’ll return—cursed with madness and unreasonable to foul things up?”

“I don’t know if he’s dead, but he won’t return,” Thorin said. “I’ll accept a coronation after we bring the clan here.” He cleared his throat. “And if something were to happen between now and then, Fíli will be crowned. Let Dwalin and Balin shelter you as much as they want; you’ll need their support and care.”

“Uncle,” Fíli said quietly.

“Listen, lad, please,” Thorin urged. “See that the company is taken care of. They stood with us when no one else did. Don’t let anyone misuse Hadrian or Hermione in our name. I don’t think either of them knows how to say no. Make sure Bilbo gets to go home to the Shire if that is what he wishes.”

“Okay,” Fíli said, exhaling slowly. “If Duma marries someone else while I’m off fighting a dragon, I’m going to hate him for at least fifty years, and be incredibly bitter about it for twice that long.”

“I’ll hate him, too,” Kíli declared. “Vehemently and for at least seventy-five years after you stop, so he doesn’t get any ideas about us forgiving him.”

Thorin laughed, more amused than he wanted to be. He’d honestly never missed his own brother more, but the loss of Frerin was more bittersweet than incredibly painful as it once had been.

The End

 

Author’s Thoughts

So, one thing that is different about this series is the clan/leadership structure of the dverger on Earth. It’s similar but wholly different than I’ve done in other works and it’s been commented on in the past by disappointed readers. The fact is that I had to create a circumstance on Earth that would make Ragnok Windrider willing to migrate his clan to Arda—thus leaving the rest of his people behind.

If this characterization bothers you a great deal, then you need to decide now if you’ll continue to read because it’ll only get…worse going forward to facilitate the story I want to tell in Small Magic.

-KM

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