Surprise! Another chapter and it didn't even take me a year!

To own the truth, this chapter has been complete for some weeks, but I have been holding it back because I wanted to have the next finished before posting it. But after talking about the story with a fellow writer, I felt compelled to go ahead and post it. Perhaps it will stir my muse to helping me finish the next chapter, which is already a page in.

As always, I give the deepest, most heartfelt thanks to all those still following along, most especially my Rockstar Reviewers: MissCallaLilly, Luinwen-2013, Robinbird79, readergirl4985, A5mia, Sparky She-Demon, djhay4, Jillian Baade, Nenithiel, and Celebrisilweth. Much thanks also to the most recent favorites and follows from Martiny, The Cajun Phoenix, DemiMonDaine, and Kveronicap.

82. What Honor Demands

"I'm a slow learner, it's true…but I learn."

Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell

Game of Thrones episode "The Dragon and the Wolf"

When all the family—and their guests from Rivendell—met in the palace's formal dining room for dinner, they were treated to the surprise of Dís and Rejna deep in conversation.

It was not a heated discussion, either, as they might all have had reason to fear, but an earnest meeting of the minds. Upon the entrance of the large group—for they had all happened to gather outside the doors almost at once—Rejna stood, and when they had all been seated, she began to speak.

"I would like to take this opportunity to do two things: One, to thank you. In light of this morning's…unpleasantness…you still agreed to share a table with me. And second, I should like to apologize for said unpleasantness. My behavior was inexcusable, though I hope that I may appease you all with the information that I have spoken with Healer Irma upon the matter, and she has prescribed some herbal remedies that will aid in curbing the kind of outburst which you regrettably witnessed earlier today."

At that she flushed and took her seat beside Thorin. King Ragin reached for the bell to call for the servants, but was stopped as Melindë said, "I think we what are or have been with child might apologize also, Princess."

"Mahal's balls, Melindë, whatever for?" grumbled Fíli, who—so it appeared to Rejna—was not quite ready to forgive her for insulting his mother.

"My love, as she 'as no naneth to guide her, is it nae the duty o' her kin ta take up the post in the lady's stead?"

"Melindë is right, Fíli," agreed Larkspur, who cast a smile in Rejna's direction. "It is the hobbit tradition as well that when a female has no mother to guide her from child to lady, her female relatives take on the duty of explaining to her all things which relate to being female."

"As should her female friends, if she has any," added Dís. "If there are any dams with whom the princess is close, they, too, have failed her."

Rejna could not help bristling a bit at this—she had fantastic friends, who had always been there for her, and Saia had been an excellent surrogate mother. She told Dís so in as calm and rational a manner as she was able.

"Be that as it may, nan'ith," said Dís firmly, causing more than one set of eyes to turn her way, as she'd always been so formal with Rejna, "because your honored mother could not aid you in discovering that which you ought to by now have known well, they should have done. And had you known of the herbal remedies of which you spoke sooner, an episode such as we endured this morning might well have been avoided.

"Now, let us speak no more of that unpleasantness, and celebrate that our families are united and growing."

Ragin nodded sagely. "Here, here, madam. I am in full agreement that we should each of us thank Mahal—and Yavanna—" he added, with a glance at Larkspur, "for all our many blessings."

The servants were then summoned and dishes were brought in, and later—as those from the first course were being cleared away in preparation for the serving of the second—Rejna found herself relieved to be seeing less of Fíli's anger and more of his smiles. He might take a little longer to forgive her, but he would forgive. And for that, the princess could be naught but thankful.

When dinner had ended, and all their bellies were full, those that lived outside the mountain began to talk of heading back home to settle in for the evening. Dís stalled every thought to that end when she stood from the table herself and said,

"I know how we're going to get Hagen."

All at once, half a dozen voices—save those of Rejna, who knew the plan already, and both Ranárë and Glorfindel, who were innately calmer but no less curious—raised up and began to fire questions at her. She then glanced at King Ragin, whose rising from his chair instantly quieted the family.

"Let us all repair to my chambers, that we may speak of the matter in private," said he, moving away from the table as he spoke.

The family accepted the directive and followed, and when at last they arrived in the spacious chambers of the king, he waited until all were seated—or standing, in the case of their Rivendell guests—comfortably around the sitting room before he gestured to Dís and said, "Now, madam, I think you might rid us of the suspense."

Dís rose from her seat and moved to stand before the fireplace. Encompassing all in the room with a sweeping gaze, she began to lay out the plan she had proposed to Rejna that afternoon. Almost immediately there were murmurs of assent, though several questions were also asked as to how they were going to bring it about, especially given how difficult Hagen had been in recent weeks.

"Quite simply, I should say," answered Dís. "No dwarf in their right mind will refuse a summons from their king."

-…-

It was barely dawn the next morning when messengers from the Capital were dispatched to the halls of the other lords summoning them, their heirs—in fact, their entire families—to an audience in the throne room at eleven bells. As soon as the sun had fully risen, further messages were sent to the homes of the wealthiest families and even some of the lesser merchants, each with the same summons.

The floor was full long before the appointed time came. The three lords and their heirs stood at the fore of the gathered audience with their families behind them. All who waited were eager to hear what news the king would announce, some of them expecting good things and others fearing bad—after all, it was only a few days ago that Princess Rejna had been attacked in her own chambers, forcing Prince Thorin to be returned to Dwarrowvale by use of elven magic.

Muttered supposition flowed around the room. Some said that perhaps the announcement was that the princess and her child were well, others that one or both had died as a result of the attack. Others still wondered if the elves' magic had somehow made the prince ill or had injured him, and further speculation was that the king would announce his daughter and her husband were divorcing.

"Don't be a bloody fool," growled Grehkin, Fíli's boss, to the speaker. "You know perfectly well that dwarrow don't believe in divorce."

Not until the chime of the eleventh bell had faded away did any of the royal party make an appearance. One of the Royal Guard, standing by a ceiling-to-floor tapestry, pushed an edge of it aside and opened the door hidden behind it.

As they waited in the anteroom for the signal—the quieting of the eleventh bell—the family stood or sat around, saying little or nothing. Ragin, Thorin, and the ladies of the family were all decked out in their finest raiments, and adorned with jewels, gold, and silver as befitted their status. Kíli, Dwalin, and the other guards wore armor polished to a mirror shine. Even Fíli had adorned himself in chainmail and armor, a pair of fighting knives at his sides and an untold number of other blades secreted about his person.

Nerves overtook her as the bells began to ring at the eleventh hour. Rejna reached for Thorin's hand from the rolling chair they had acquired as a part of their act, squeezing it tightly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly.

She knew that he referred to his offer of the night before, when they had lain awake late into the night discussing the possible outcomes of this day, to call it off before it began. Though all had agreed his sister's plan was sound—and the only one that had even a remote chance of working at this point—he knew that Rejna remained nervous about confronting, née blindsiding, Hagen in open court.

She gave his hand another squeeze. "It is not what I want, it is what honor demands."

"And what does honor demand?"

She thought about the attacks on Thorin. The attacks on Halvar and herself. She thought of the deaths of innocent citizens of her kingdom which would not have happened had Hagen not invited the Brotherhood of Mahal into their midst. She thought of all the pain and suffering her sister by marriage had endured at the hands of Lita under her Hagen's command, the suffering of the lady's sons and brother and kin believing she had died of grief.

She thought of how that fall down those stairs could have ended the life of her son before he was even born, and suddenly all her fears subsided, to be replaced by the rage which had simmered below the surface in the days since the attack.

No one threatens my child and gets away with it.

Rejna drew a deep breath and looked up at her husband. "Honor demands that I protect my family from those who would harm us. That I protect my kingdom from those who would betray us."

As she spoke, the eleventh bell sounded.

Thorin nodded. "Let's get on with it, then."

Larkspur and Melindë were the first to move through the door, followed by Fíli. Next was Dwalin, then Kíli, then Thorin. Dag passed through next, then Árni rolled Rejna through. Audible gasps sounded from the audience as soon as she appeared. Behind them walked Solveg, then Ragin, followed by Jormun. The king stood before the throne—Rejna to his right and Thorin to his left—and did not sit himself upon it until the door had been closed and the edge of the tapestry set back into place.

"We have among us," began Ragin in a booming voice, "one who would sow discord. Who would set brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor. Who would use ancient, long-forgotten grievances to destroy the very foundation of our kingdom.

"But no longer will I or mine tolerate the disruption of peace in Khazad-dubanu. Justice will be done today, one way or another."

He turned his head and looked to Thorin, who took a step forward. "You stand accused of inciting panic, torture by proxy, conspiracy to commit murder, and treason. How do you answer these charges…"

Thorin turned his gaze upon their prey. "…Lord Hagen?"

Silence followed his declaration for a full thirty seconds before the Eastfell lord began to laugh.

"You must be joking," he said as he stepped out from his place and moved to stand at the head of the aisle that split the gathered witnesses in two groups. Hagen clasped his hands before him as he laughed again. "Or you are desperate."

He turned around to face the crowd behind him. "For many years has our kingdom been in decline," he declared. "The blood of Tors grows thin—his heirs are three weakling females and a boy barely old enough to raise a sword in his king's name."

Hagen turned back toward the dais on which the royal family and their kin were gathered. "You have grown old and weak, Ragin. It is time for new blood to reign over Dwarrowvale."

"How dare you insult our king, you wretched—" cried Lady Kari as she started toward him.

"Silence!" bellowed Ragin. "Lady Kari, you will hold your tongue and your place."

Chastened, but glaring daggers at Hagen, the heir to the Valley lands stepped back beside her father. Ragin turned his glare from her to Hagen, and after a heartbeat Thorin continued.

"On the charge of inciting panic, you stand accused, Lord Hagen, of inviting the Brotherhood of Mahal—an organization known for their hatred of the mixing of dwarrow blood with the blood of men—into the Kingdom of Dwarrowvale, after which began an ongoing campaign of rhetoric and violence against those families who are of mixed blood. Do you deny it?"

Hagen snorted. "Of course I deny it! On what grounds do you accuse me of such absolute nonsense?"

"A witness, Lord Hagen," spoke up Rejna. "A man by the name of Etten—one of six perpetrators in the attack against General Halvar of Eastfell, your son; who attacked the woman Melindë, daughter or Morren, in her own home—confessed his membership and your own in the Brotherhood before he was sent to meet his own maker."

It was a lie, of course, but the only one they would tell in order to set the rest of the plan in motion.

The accused snorted again. "The word of a common thug proves nothing."

"On the charge of torture by proxy," continued Thorin, raising his voice to grab their attention, "you stand accused, Lord Hagen, of consigning your own bastard daughter—Lita, daughter of Telka—to travel north into Erebor to poison Dís, Princess of Erebor, that she would not conceive another Heir of Durin, with the promise of wedding her to Thorin Stonehelm, son of Daín Ironfoot, King of Erebor. Do you deny it?"

"I do not think I have been more insulted in my life!" Hagen declared. "No dwarf of noble blood would dare sully himself, nor dishonor the bond of matrimony with his mate, by sleeping with the help, let alone allowing the whore who would make such a slanderous accusation to conceive a bastard by him."

The last he said with a sneer in Rejna's direction, but before any of the royal family could continue, they were all of them surprised by another outburst, this time from Lady Greti. She scoffed loudly and said,

"Is that so? You may think our king and his family fools, Hagen, but your mate is most definitely not one," she spat. "Our union was not a love match. You are not my One, nor am I yours. Do you really think me ignorant of your affairs throughout the course of our marriage? I dread to wonder just how many bastard half siblings our son has out there."

He turned and stormed toward her, his face flushed with anger, as he shouted "Kanbûna u nu' durûz!"

There were gasps from the ladies in the audience and murmurs of discontent from the men as Halvar stepped up and stood between his father and mother.

"Lay even a finger on my amad, and I will kill you where you stand," said he.

This declaration brought Hagen up short, and then he began to laugh. "You haven't got the stones, boy."

Halvar drew his sword. "Try me."

"Guards!" cried out Dwalin, and immediately six of the Royal Guard surrounding the hall marched forward, lining themselves up to separate father and son.

Hagen whirled away from them with a growl. "I suppose you have witnesses to this preposterous charge as well?" he cried angrily. "Are they as dead and unable to speak here as the last one?"

"One of them is," replied Thorin. "Your daughter confessed her sins before myself, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and Lord Glorfindel Udrafu Abzag Durinul before she took her own life to meet Mahal's judgment."

"Do you really expect me to believe that a dam you cannot produce to give testimony accused me of being her sire? Of hiring her to poison some alleged princess I have never even heard of? Do you expect myself and the people of this kingdom to accept the word of elves as sacrosanct? You're out of your bloody minds!"

"We could certainly bring her mother from the dungeons, but how about hearing the word of the victim herself?" Thorin spat back.

At that moment, the guard at the tapestry nudged it aside and opened the door again. Through it stepped Dís in the finest dress of Rejna's that could be found to fit her, for she had lost much weight. Around her neck, in her ears, on her head and hands were gems and gold and silver that, while borrowed, made her look every bit the princess that she was.

When she had come to her prearranged place on the dais, next to Rejna, she said, "I am Dís, daughter of Sif, Princess of Erebor. Lita most certainly did exist. And she did poison me for a period of four years, before her conscience finally grew stronger than her ambition…and her desire to be recognized and loved by her father. Only when you ordered her to kill me did she finally understand the true evil from which she spawned."

"You lie. Undoubtedly this Lita person is as much a construct of your disturbed imagination as is your claim to be a princess."

It was all Thorin—and no doubt her sons also—could do not to charge forward for yet another confrontation. But it had been stressed that they absolutely must keep their hot tempers in check.

"Continue the citation of the charges, Prince Thorin," said King Ragin.

Yes. Best to get on with it, Thorin mused angrily.

"On the charge of attempted murder, you stand accused, Lord Hagen, of conspiring with hired assassins to kill me before I was betrothed to Princess Rejna, as well as a second group of assassins hired to murder your own son. Do you deny it?"

"It was you?!" cried Greti. "You paid those binakrag rakhâs to kill our son?! Why I ought to kill you myself, mê dashatu laszûna!"

She struggled in the arms of Halvar, who held her back—but only just. "No, amad. He is not worthy of your blade."

Hagen glanced scornfully over his shoulder—and through the row of guards—at his wife and son. He turned the gaze back to the dais and said only, "Prove it."

Thorin scowled. "On the charge of treason, you stand accused, Lord Hagen, of the assault of Rejna, daughter of Helga, Crown Princess of Dwarrowvale…and the attempted murder of her unborn son. Do you deny it?"

The last sentence he said with as much control as he could force into his voice, though by the deep growl of his tone there was surely no one in attendance who was not aware of his building rage.

Hagen's countenance was smug as he held his hands before him, shrugged carelessly, and said "Prove it."

At first, they had thought to bring in Bahûna, but feared the she-wolf would attack him outright. They could certainly not call Ranárë as witness, though she and Glorfindel stood on one side of the throne room with their eyes faced resolutely forward. Her testimony of understanding the language of the wolves was unlikely to be accepted as evidence, as they would simply not believe a "dumb animal" could even speak.

So, they had brought with them the one witness whose testimony was unlikely to be dismissed by the gathered audience.

Rejna stood slowly from the rolling chair and, gathering her skirt in hand, slowly made her way down the dais. Árni and Dag were immediately behind her, though about a pace or two back.

"You told me that none of this would happen if I'd just do what I was told," she said as she walked directly up to Hagen, who sneered viciously, and made a show of leaning close and drawing in a deep breath through her nose.

Not that it was necessary, she mused, as she frowned deeply—and fought to keep her breakfast in her stomach. She could smell that awful scent he wore from the dais.

Taking a step back, she said in a clear, concise voice, "Oh yes. It was you, Hagen, who grabbed me from behind and threw me down those stairs in a pitiful, cowardly attempt to cause me to miscarry my son. If you didn't want me to live so I could accuse you, you really ought to have put a blade to my throat…and switched colognes."

Hagen smirked. "You're still in recovery from your ordeal, Princess," he said. "Probably suffered a concussion when you hit your head on the wall at the bottom of those stairs."

"Who said anything about a wall? Or that I fell to the bottom?" countered Rejna.

"Semantics, Princess. Or a guess, if you will," said Hagen. "I really wouldn't know, of course, because I wasn't there."

"LIAR!"

Thorin roared the word as he all but flew from the dais and charged past Rejna and her guards to wrap his hands around Hagen's throat. The Eastfell lord grabbed his wrists to pry them apart as they were surrounded by armed guards.

"You tried twice to have me killed because you wanted to put your son on the throne!" Thorin snarled. "You paid your daughter with lies to poison Dís, torturing her with the pain of her grief for more than four years!"

His hands were removed from Hagen's throat and the two were at last torn away from each other. Thorin struggled to free himself from the six pair of hands that barely contained him.

"You brought the sodding Brotherhood here to cause panic and distrust of the king's ability to keep the peace, which has led to violence and death where there was none before!" Thorin went on. "You were so ashamed of the choices of your son's heart that you disowned him, and when that wasn't enough you tried to have him killed!"

"Because he is an abomination!" screamed Hagen, fighting his own restrainers. "Our Maker would never condone the joining of two males—it is sacrilege!"

"And what about Rejna, you coward?! She smelled you there! Do you call your crown princess a liar? You could have killed her! You could have killed my son!"

"I have had enough of your accusations, usurper!" bellowed Hagen. "I have heard enough of your lies—you would poison the minds of the people against one of their most dedicated and loyal guardians?! How dare you! Igbik 'uzghû ikrig!"

The last he screamed as though he wished the heavens to hear. Maybe he did. Fine by me, snapped Thorin's inner voice.

The heavens would hear him, too.

"I accept your challenge! Prepare to die, coward!"

Khuzdul:

kanbûna u nu' durûz! - two-faced bitch (lit. "dog-lady" of two faces)

binakrag rakhâs - honorless orcs

mê dashatu laszûna - you son of a whore (lit. "you son of a lust-lady)

Igbik 'uzghû ikrig! - I demand a battle of honor!