#nogrod

Maedhros straightened, subtly checking that he was dressedappropriately. He needed this meeting to go well. If it did not…

The consequences did not bear thinking on. He has lost father,brothers, and cousins, but he will notlose his children. The children, hereminded himself yet again. They are not his, though they are likely the closestto sons of his own he will ever have. He tried not to think of them in suchterms, to keep them kinsmen and not sons. It has not worked.

Elrond and Elros’ lives depend on his success this day. Thatleft him no choice - he must succeed.

There was only so much that could be done withintermediaries, when dealing with dwarrows. Beyond a certain point, theyexpected to negotiate face to face. Underlings might be trusted with preliminaries,but not with finalizing such a treaty as he sought.

It at least had novelty on its side. Morgoth will not expectthis – indeed, he is likely even now preparing to cut Amon Ereb off from anypossible escape to the Sea. The Enemy could sense the change in the West windseven as they could. He will expect them to send the children to Balar beforemaking their last stand. That they would instead strike out East would neverenter his head. That they would bring Thingol’s last surviving heirs here of all places…

The dwarrows of Návarot have both traded and warred with theelves of Beleriand, but never before have they sheltered them.

Maedhros smoothed his hair and straightened his circlet,smothering a smile as he did. Would that Elros could have been here to see thatsuch things were as needful in their proper time and place as he has been toldfor the past seven years.

The twins’ lessons have turned to dwarrows of late, thoughof course the boys do not yet realize why. If today goes well, in a few short weeks,they will know all.

“Greetings, Prince Maedhros.”

The speaker was as richly dressed as Maedhros himself, for onformal occasions, dwarrows showcased their work. This was not the finest eitherof them had to offer – that would be reserved for the presence of the king,probably at dinner that evening – but it was not far off.

Maedhros had opted for the copper circlet he liked best, acollaboration between his brother and his father in the days before Fëanaro wasopenly feuding with his brother, set with several clear white stones. They werenot the Silmarils, but their light remembered the Trees, and few gems craftedhere in Beleriand could equal them. His tunic was a rich red brocade, which heotherwise seldom had cause to wear these days.

His counterpart, of course, outshone him. The dwarrow’s beardwas an easy match for Maedhros’ hair, but woven with bands of silver studdedwith gems the elves named star sapphire but the dwarrows called Light of Mahal,and the ornamental leather jerkin over a deep blue doublet was embroidered withgold and silver as fitted a prince of the realm.

“Prince Kheli,” he replied with a formal bow.

Kheli smirked, and Maedhros knew it meant he had still notquite mastered the proper pronunciation.

At least he had trained himself to use only the masculineaddress when speaking. Dwarrows did not use gendered forms of address, preferringwhat both Sindarin and Quenya generally translated as male pronouns and titlesfor all, for they considered gender to be a private matter. Maedhros had notdealt with any of the other clans, but he knew the Firebeards found it ratherodd and perhaps even a bit insulting that the taller kindreds openly made suchsharp distinctions between male and female.

“Have no fear, Copperhead. A lisp is not an insult,” Kheliassured him. “I dare say many will find it endearing. And perhaps a bitreassuring.”

The flicker of Kheli’s eyes up and down his long frame didnot escape him. He was considered tall by his own people. To the dwarrows hewas a veritable giant. The largest of them stood only to his waist.

“At further risk of insult, honored prince, I had expectedto meet your father,” Maedhros ventured. “I had understood him to be amenableto my proposal.”

He definitely didn’t miss the twinkle in Kheli’s eye.

“You might wish to review your Khuzdul, noble friend,” Khelitold him. “That word is formarriages, not treaties or trade.”

He inclined his head politely. Such a mistake was probably aneven greater faux pas given that he knew he spoke to the daughter, not the son ofthe Telakh. (It had been some years of dealing with both the king and theprince before Maedhros realized that, and he had never raised the point, uncertainif it was rude to acknowledge it or not.)

“I live to learn, venerable one” he replied, hoping he hadthe phrase correct. It had originated among the dwarves, but was as apt for hisown people as it was for them.

Kheli nodded in return.

“As do we all,” she replied gravely. “And yet – my father isno longer young by our reckoning, though in yours I understand he would bescarce more than a youth. He feels that as it will be those younger than himwho must bear the consequences of this agreement, for good or ill, the finalsay should be mine, not his. He leaves the decision in my hands.”

Maedhros paused, considering.

Kheli would be King after her father, but he had not expectedthat for another fifty to a hundred years – years it may yet prove that none ofthem truly have, given that Morgoth now dominates nearly all of Beleriand andhas never known the meaning of satisfied orenough.

“In that case, Prince Kheli, I would hear your thoughts onmy – suggested course of action?”

It was frustrating not being sure of his words, but thegesture of using the dwarrows’ preferred language has been too well receivedfor him to abandon it now. And the folk of Návarot pride themselves on honesty –part of the reason their rage at Thingol had run so deep – so he knew they wouldensure he signed nothing he does not fully understand.

“Walk with me, tall one,” she suggested, looking rather amused.“You may need to be careful of your head – these halls have been enlarged withyour kind in mind, but you are the tallest elf we have ever seen, Elu Tightfistincluded.”

Maedhros thanked her as gravely as he could, given that hereally wished to laugh. If nothing else, the elves of Amon Ereb and thedwarrows of Návarot had this much in common: they agreed Thingol had been a fool.

It turned out he only needed to duck twice – the corridorsand even the rooms they passed were all more than acceptable by elvenstandards, and wanted only furnishings to be comfortable. They might lack thegrandeur and elegance of Menegroth, but Maedhros and his brother had not askedfor elegance – security was their priority, and space enough for their peopleand their animals their main requirement.

The hall Kheli stopped in was not empty. There were severaldwarrows within, attendants if Maedhros judged correctly. And something he hadnever seen before – dwarrow younglings.

He regretted more than ever not bringing one or both boys.The young always seemed to get on, regardless of what their elders might do.

“My sons,” Kheli announced. “Gabil and Farin.”

Gabil was old enough to walk cautiously on his own, butFarin was still only a babe in arms. Maedhros had no sense of what their agesmight be, and did not trust that it might not be some breach of etiquette toask.

“You honor me, Prince Kheli,” he said cautiously, uncertainwhat the proper compliment would be. “They look to be fine, strong children.”

“I hope it proves so,” she replied.

And then, to his immense surprise, she handed Farin to him.

Maedhros managed not to drop the tiny child, but it was anear thing given how shocked he was. The little one was scarce more than ahandful for him, and looked solemnly up at him, apparently less disconcerted atbeing held by a giant than Maedhros was at holding a child so very little.

He blinked at the unfamiliar sound of dwarvish laughter.

“It’s only a wee thing, he’s much too small to take an axeto you yet,” one attendant chortled before Kheli hurriedly hushed him.

“I am honored by your trust, Prince Kheli,” Maedhrosstammered. “But I must ask – why am I holding your son? Are you not worried?”

“Less worried than I would be had you not asked thequestion, or shown such obvious concern not to do him harm,” she repliedsolemnly. “You’ve dealt with us before, Prince Maedhros. You know well that we maydrive a bargain, but at the heart of our business we have always treated eachother as equals.”

“Indeed,” Maedhros said, solemnly offering Farin the tip ofhis little finger.  The tiny dwarrow gavehim a puzzled look when he discovered it to be much larger than the fingers hewas used to grabbing at, and gummed it indignantly as if that might bring itdown to size.

“I have heard that this treaty is for the good of your young,”Kheli continued. “You know you are taking a risk in bringing them here. Iwanted you to see that you are not the only one at risk in this venture.”

Maedhros offered young Farin back to his mother, whoaccepted him without any sign of undue worry.

“You worry enough for both of us, Copperhead,” she observeddrily. “I did presume that as you have young ones of your own, you had held a child before.”

“Never one so small,” Maedhros murmured.

“Ah, yes, I suppose our infants would not be as large asyours,” Kheli said ruefully. “It would make birthing rather difficult. There, nowwe have both learned something this day.”

Gabil toddled boldly up – he did not even reach as high asMaedhros’ knee – and lifted his arms imperiously, unwilling to miss out on hisshare of the visitor’s attention.

Maedhros, after a quick glance at the prince of Návarot, pickedthe child up and sat him on one shoulder, where the boy squealed with delightat his unexpected perch.

“These ones will not be old enough to wield an axe, if thewar you expect comes as you say it will,” Kheli told him grimly. “We – you andI, your people and mine – will have to be enough to protect them.”

“We may not be enough to protect my young,” Maedhros repliedquietly, doing his best to keep one eye on the boy on his shoulder lest he fall.“The Enemy wants them dead. And theymay well be old enough to take up arms in their own defense before the end.”

“So long as you understand the stakes, and that we expect noless in defense of ours than we offer for the protection of yours,” Kheli saidfirmly, “then we have a deal, elf.”

Maedhros looked down sharply, though he did not release hiscautious hold on the young dwarrow.

“We do?”

“Indeed, Prince of the Noldor. Tumunzahar has not forgottenour old grudge against the evil in the North that slaughtered so many of ourkind and daily defiles our Maker’s works, nor your reputation for being hischiefest foe. But for the sake of your young, I would say we should set pen topaper without further delay, that you not wait any longer to move them. Messengersarrived this morning from Gabilgathol, and I suspect the warning they bringmeans your time runs shorter than you guessed.”

Maedhros thanked whatever Vala might hear him that theyalready had nearly everything in readiness. The fortress could be evacuatedbefore the week was out.