So Comes Snow After Fire

17.iv

The reconvened Council had an air of tension to it which had not been present during the first sennight's meetings. The succession controversy had been a subject for intense debate, not only between the clans, but within each of the ambassadorial parties themselves. The general Council had been in recess for the past three days to allow the envoys to decide their individual votes, but Thorin knew that even with the time to discuss the matter amongst themselves, one or two of the kingdoms had only barely agreed on a decision.

Glancing across the crowded council chamber now, Thorin considered his chief opponent, Jari of the Stiffbeards. Although Jari was the most outspoken proponent of reverting to the former law, Thorin had overheard rumors just this morning that one or two of the other Stiffbeard lords had objected to their envoy's implicit disrespect (and near treason) to the high king of Erebor, behavior they considered ill-founded on insufficient claims of an heir's mental instability. They might, it had been suggested, have raised a more strenuous objection to their clan's vote, had there not been the risk of placing an elf on the throne. To avoid such a disaster, even treason might be justified.

Jari's own solemn, settled expression truly did not suggest any division among the Stiffbeard ranks, but Thorin had no reason to doubt this morning's news. Indeed, he was fairly certain he had been meant to hear. Likely the dissenting party had found it easier to resort to underground means of voicing their position, rather than openly opposing their own stubborn and opinionated leader. Jari would hardly listen to them when they did not yet have enough proof that an elven marriage was no longer a danger to be feared as much as any alleged madness.

Thorin could not help but take a grim satisfaction in the thought that Jari's sure victory might be quite suddenly upset by Kíli's announcement that he had chosen a dwarven bride. Yet there would be no true pleasure in watching Jari's defeat; Thorin hated the idea of using his own nephew as if he were nothing more than a chess piece, the king's tool, maneuvered into position to deliver the winning move. He knew how much Kíli sacrificed today, and if there had been any other option, Thorin would have taken it. But as things were, Thorin and both his heirs understood that there was no other way to end this debate favorably but by Kíli's renunciation of the controversial match. Thorin's only comfort (and it hardly was one) was the knowledge that Kíli had chosen this course of his own will.

Indeed, his young nephew's face was as calm and untroubled as even Jari's own, and only by an uncle's practiced eye could Thorin read Kíli's true unease in a hand clenched at his belt, a foot already poised to stand or escape. But for all the lad's anxious energy, he waited quietly till the opening formalities of the meeting were concluded before shifting forward in his seat and catching the eye of Balin, who, as Thorin's senior councilman, presided over this meeting.

At the elder dwarf's nod, Kíli rose from his seat.

"I wish to address the Council on a private matter that nonetheless concerns all who owe allegiance to my uncle, the high king," he began. His voice was as steady and assured as if he were merely presenting a routine security report, not announcing a decision that so profoundly ended his hopes.

The chamber went quickly silent, even the few whispered consultations ending as everyone turned full attention to the king's younger heir.

"I know the Council worries that by choosing an outsider, I do not make a suitable match," Kíli went on, his voice now the only sound in the council room. "I confess you are right: in pursuing Tauriel, I have been foolish and impulsive, but I have never intended to betray my king or my people. I had only hoped to mend the rift between our two kingdoms, Erebor and the Greenwood."

Kíli paused deliberately then to sweep his gaze over the watching Council, giving them time to consider his claim, that even a marriage to an elf had been conceived with his kingdom's good in mind.

After meeting the eyes of the last councilman, Kíli continued. "I see now that even with the recent alliance to Thranduil, there is too great a difference between our peoples to permit a marriage between an elf and a dwarf. Tauriel, too, agrees, for she has refused me."

From his position beside Kíli, Thorin could see the brief clench of a fist as his young kinsman said these last words, the only full untruth in all his speech.

"I wish to assure you all that I understand my duty as a prince of Durin's house is to choose a bride who will strengthen my kingdom and my line. A match among our own people is the only way to accomplish this end, as I see clearly now. I have made my decision, and Lord Andvari can confirm that I have pledged to marry his daughter."

Kíli paused for a few moments more, still in command of the silent room. Then he bowed smoothly and resumed his seat.

After a few long moments, Thorin was gratified to hear the buzz of hushed conversations resume with fresh vigor. Along with a marriage treaty to the Blacklocks, Kíli's renunciation of Tauriel had been the key element needed to carry the vote and secure the succession. This sudden flurry of consultation among the gathered envoys was proof already that Kíli's display of duty and good sense surely carried weight enough to sway at least one remaining vote, and one was all that was needed.

A number of councilmen were trying to address the room at the same time, and across from Thorin, Jari held a hushed but intent argument with another Stiffbeard lord, but for now, Thorin's attention was still held by his nephew.

All the poise and control had gone out of Kíli at last and he slumped back in his chair looking very weary. Against the livid bruise (which still showed quite plainly on his cheek, despite his best efforts to hide it behind loose bangs) his skin had gone quite pale.

When Fíli put a hand to his brother's shoulder, Kíli seized it with the grateful desperation of one drowning.