“Is there a reason why these trees chose to cluster so close together at the top of this Mountain?” Blaine complained. They crept along the trail at a snail's pace, picking their way through the branches that closed in around them. Kurt smiled when he heard the trees groan with displeasure. Knowing that some of the more aware ones had been offended by the Dwarf's grousing, Kurt sang a song to appease them and calm their tempers.

“I don't believe they are doing this on purpose,” Kurt joked, stepping ahead of Blaine in an attempt to convince the trees to move their branches aside.

Some of the kinder evergreens were happy to oblige.

Some of the more sensitive spruces and pines were not.

“You can talk to the trees, can you not, Kurt?” Blaine pleaded, spitting out a needle that ended up in his mouth when a branch thrust itself into the trail from out of nowhere and smacked him in the face.

“If you insist on insulting them, I can do very little, Blaine, but apologize on your behalf and beg for their forgiveness,” Kurt scolded the Dwarf, but laughed when he turned back to his companion and saw him festooned with more needles than the trees.

“I supposed that would explain a few things,” Blaine said, picking the needles from his curls.

“Aye,” Kurt said with a chuckle. “It would. Now, I beg of you, hold your tongue and calm your ire so we may make it to the top some time before dark.”

“Yes,” Blaine agreed. “I will.” He turned to the tree closest. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Kurt laughed while he helped rid Blaine of his cloak of mulch as Blaine continued to apologize to the overhanging branches. Fairly cleared of his leaf-coat, they traveled on in silence, which Kurt considered hard for Blaine since he usually combatted nerves with incessant talking and singing.

Blaine fidgeted and shuffled behind Kurt while the Elf negotiated with the Forest. The Dwarf's body vibrated so with excitement that Kurt could almost convince himself that the emotion was his own. The path was slow going, and Kurt yearned to get Blaine to his kin, to free the Dwarves in the Mountain, but when he saw the doorway embedded in the rock face not too far ahead, a sad realization took root in his brain.

Their quest would soon be over. With the rescue made, the journey home would commence.

And before he knew it, he and Blaine would soon be parted.

Kurt knew better than to try and fight the inevitable, and he knew that the lives of Dwarves depended on their haste.

That didn't stop Kurt from trying to devise a plan to delay their mission a little longer.

Maybe not delay it now, but when they had finally reached the Dwarves inside the Mountain.

Packing up their goods and treasure could take days instead of hours…or weeks, even.

Perhaps Blaine would find himself too tired to continue right away.

Perhaps Kurt could pretend to have an injury.

Kurt went over several scenerios in his mind, everything from spraining an ankle to food poisoning. So involved was he in trying to conjure up a feasible way to stall their return that he didn't notice when the trees gave way and the doorway to the mines of this solitary Mountain stood ahead of them, marking the end to this leg of their journey.

Blaine came up beside him and stopped, staring first with confusion, and then with wonder.

“Is that…the door?” Blaine asked, even though it was most evident.

“Yes,” Kurt said. “This is the door to the Mountain.”

It was an interesting door in that it was not a door, not in the conventional sense of the word. It didn't hang on hinges, nor did it have a keyhole – though it most definitely had a lock and a key. Many a Mountain in Middle-earth was in possession of a secret door, and many of them looked the same as this.

And yet it was unlike any other door that Kurt or Blaine had ever seen.

It was sheer and it was stone. It differed from the rock around it in no other way, and if you didn't know it was there, you would never find it, even with the road taking them right to its step. Most doors that opened with an Elvish riddle had it inscribed around the edge, but not this door. It was incredibly unremarkable. A visitor would need to know the riddle before they arrived, which meant that in order to enter this Mountain, one would need to be invited.

You would need to be escorted.

A Dwarf of the Mountain would need to know the Elvish riddle and be able to recite it perfectly, or an Elf and a Dwarf would have to arrive together.

This was probably why the other door had been built.

No friendship with the Elves meant there was no one left to unlock the door.

Blaine ran his hands over the smooth rock in search of a way inside.

“So, you know this is the door then?” he asked, concerned over the lack of any distinguishing marks or features.

“I do,” Kurt said, looking unsettled.

“And you know the riddle that will get us in?”

“Yes,” Kurt responded. “I do.”

Blaine abandoned his search for a keyhole and looked at Kurt with expectant eyes.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands together in delight.

It was his hands where Kurt's eyes fell.

“I know the riddle, Blaine,” Kurt said, “but we need a drop of your blood.”

Blaine stopped wringing his hands.

“Oh,” he said with a blank expression. “I forgot about that for a moment.” His expression transformed back into one of joy as he continued his bouncing and his hand wringing. “That's not a problem. I have plenty of blood to give.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, his eyes dropping to the rocky ground beneath his feet. How different it was here on the Mountain, where everything was dirt and rock and unmoving, then back home in Rivendell where the land was soft and green and rolled beneath your feet. You moved with the land and to a point it moved with you. But here on this Mountain, there was no give and take, no compromise.

Kurt knew that the nature of the Mountain was part of Blaine's nature, too. The Dwarf would do what needed to be done.

“I'm sure you will do it well,” Blaine encouraged, “so that it will hurt only a little.”

Kurt's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Blaine's face.

“Me?” he cried. “You expect me to take it?”

“Well, yes,” Blaine said. “I can't.”

No, Blaine couldn't.

Because of Kurt, he couldn't. Blaine's hands shook far too much for him to focus on something small like pricking his finger.

Kurt sighed. He did not want to cause Blaine anymore hurt, but he could not refuse.

“Alright,” he grumbled, turning Blaine around and rummaging through his pack. “Dwarf can still skin a rabbit, but he can't prick his own finger.”

“Kurt, there's a difference between pricking your finger for a drop of blood and taking your finger off.”

Kurt continued to complain unintelligibly to hear Blaine laugh. He found the small knife Blaine used for skinning and pulled it out carefully. Blaine turned back around and looked at Kurt with the knife in his hand.

“So…let's get this over with, shall we?” Blaine said. “Before the anticipation gets the better of me.”

Kurt nodded and turned back toward the door. He took a deep breath in. The riddle he was about to speak had not been uttered for many generations. Many of the trees around them knew it well. For many, it would be the first time they had heard it recited.

Either way, he hoped he would get it right.

Lle ya mellonamin naa creoso sinome,

Lle ya tesssa amin cam aa' esta sinome,

Ar' amin ya ona oanlle mellon,

Amin n'omenta kela.

Kurt stopped and held his breath, and both Elf and Dwarf waited.

“That was beautiful,” Blaine said in a hushed, reverent whisper. “What did that mean?”

Kurt kept his eyes on the door lest he miss anything, any movement, any sign at all as to what he was supposed to do next.

“It translates as -

He who is my friend may enter here,

He who holds my hand may stay,

And I who offer blood of friendship,

Never I may turn away…

Blood!”

Kurt held out his hand to Blaine, and Blaine, without a thought, extended a willing hand toward Kurt. Kurt took hold of a plump, obliging finger and pricked it quickly, watching a single drop of blood ooze from the wound. Kurt was never told exactly how to open the door other than the riddle, which he set to memory. But there was a hole in the middle that seemed a perfect recess in the otherwise featureless rock – a small divot that only Kurt's keen Elf vision allowed him to see. He tugged Blaine toward the door and pressed his finger against it, letting the drop of blood fill the recess completely.

The ground beneath their feet shook. It seemed like the entirety of the Mountain trembled. Trees locked their boughs together and held on tight. Kurt pulled Blaine away from the rock and turned him away from the falling debris, shielding the Dwarf with his own body.

“It seems,” Blaine choked as the earth rumbled around them, “that you have brought down the Mountain. Are you sure you said it right?”

Kurt laughed into Blaine's hair at the lighthearted teasing of the Dwarf in his arms.

“Maybe it's your blood, Dwarf of the Mountain,” Kurt joked back. “What with your bizarre disposition, maybe the very stone is questioning whether you are truly a Dwarf at all.”

The thunderous roar of rock scraping against rock and the tremendous quaking of the Mountain died down, and all became still, as if nothing outrageous had even occurred. Blaine turned his head up to peer over his shoulder and gaze into the eyes of his Elf protector, smiling one of his subtly disarming smiles.

“Would a Rivendell Elf like to accompany me below ground and see just how much of a Dwarf I truly am?”

Kurt parted his lips to squeak out a response, wondering where his voice had suddenly run off to, when another voice took its place.

“Well, well, well, don't we look cozy?” it jeered, hoarse from the aftermath of breathing dusty air for several long weeks. “Did you bring your Elf friend up here to dishonor your family name, Blaine, or are you actually here to rescue us poor, wretched sots?”

Kurt stood stock straight at the vulgar comment and stepped aside, giving Blaine a better view of this intruder who knew his name.

“Puck!” Blaine cried, running past Kurt to embrace the Dwarf who emerged from the Mountain. “Thank the heavens you're okay!”

Kurt took a good, hard look at the Dwarf that Blaine called Puck. He had a peculiar sway to his step, but then he stumbled and Kurt knew that he was putting on a brave front for Blaine. His clothes were torn and filthy, his stare a tad vacant, but his smile was warm and genuine – toward Blaine, at least. He was definitely taller than Blaine, and he wore his hair oddly - shaved along the sides with a stripe of short, dark hair running from front to back - which befuddled Kurt since he thought Dwarves were ever fond of their thick hair and beards. Other than his unusual hair, he was not unpleasant to look at, though he wasn't nearly so handsome as Blaine…or polite. Puck openly glared at Kurt while he awaited his chance to greet his friend. After everything he'd gone through to rescue these Dwarves, Kurt was appalled, and he glared back. Blaine had Kurt spoiled; for a moment, Kurt had forgotten the way it was told that Dwarves usually treated Elves.

“Okay is definitely a matter of opinion,” Puck said, throwing his arms around Blaine and hugging him, obviously happy to see him despite his complaining. “If okay for you means nearly starving to death while your insane brother recites maudlin poetry non-stop, then yes, it's been a downright hoot-nanny in there.”

“Blaine!” another voice called out. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!”

“Sam!” Blaine hobbled through the rubble as best he could to receive another Dwarf coming out from the massive doorway. “Oh, Sam! I've missed you so!”

“I've missed you, too, buddy,” the Dwarf named Sam said, clapping Blaine on the back. Blaine would have none of that and threw himself enthusiastically into Sam's arms.

Blaine's extreme show of affection for Sam bothered Kurt. He dared admit to himself that he even felt jealous, but he did his best to push it aside.

Whatever Kurt may have thought…

Well, it didn't matter so much now.

Maybe he would end up losing Blaine sooner than he bargained.

“Don't kiss his ass, Sam,” Puck grumbled, jabbing a crooked thumb in Kurt's direction, “look what he's been up to while we were all rotting in that death-trap - the traitor.”

Sam turned to Kurt, and his eyes went wide. He looked the Elf up and down and smiled. Kurt threw all decorum to the wind and stared appraisingly back. If these Dwarves felt free to act like mannerless pigs, than Kurt could reciprocate. This Dwarf was the strangest of the group by far, not for his hair like Puck (Sam had no beard, but he did have a lustrous head of golden hair) but for his enormous mouth. Sam laughed when he noticed Kurt stare at him reproachfully, and Kurt feared for poor Blaine.

One kiss and this Dwarf might swallow Blaine whole.

Not that it mattered to Kurt.

“Don't be like that, Puck,” Sam said. “You knew Artie went for help. Where did you think he was going to go? The Elves were the most logical choice. They're the only ones who could open the door.” Sam smiled approvingly at Kurt, but he kept his arm locked around Blaine's shoulders and Kurt found that he could no longer stand to look at them, even if Sam's smiling blue eyes were the friendliest among the bunch of refugee Dwarves so far.

A third and fourth voice joined the reverie.

“Oh, he's just upset because the mead and the Longbottom Leaf ran out days ago.”

“Yeah, even though he was mostly to blame for its disappearance.”

“Mike! Dave!” Blaine cheered, and he was passed off to another set of arms.

“Of course I'm upset it ran out,” Puck said. “Do you know what it's like putting up with these fools sober?”

“I find it hard to believe that my father would keep Longbottom Leaf in the mine,” Blaine commented.

“He didn't,” Puck said. “It was my own personal stash, and I'm not really looking forward to traveling all the way to the Shire to get more.”

“The Shire?” Kurt questioned, with a raised eyebrow. Mike and Dave both looked at the Elf with very different miens.

Mike - an exceptionally fit-looking dark haired Dwarf in comparison to his compatriots - seemed grateful to see the Elf who helped save them, while Dave – a portly bear of a Dwarf – looked upon the Elf utterly besotted. His wide-eyed stare did not go unnoticed by the company, especially by Blaine, who immediately detached himself from Mike's embrace and walked over to Kurt, taking his hand.

“Where the Hobbits live,” Blaine explained. He raised Kurt's bandaged hand to his lips and kissed it – a move that Kurt definitely did not expect. He felt it out of character for Blaine, and he didn't quite understand, but he didn't question it.

It was nice to feel that he hadn't been so easily forgotten.

“Tiny creatures,” Mike picked up where Blaine left off. “You might miss them if you blinked, which is saying a lot since they are quite slow.”

“And in the tall grass you could lose them entirely!” Sam crowed to the delight of all, who roared with laughter.

Even Puck chuckled, but not Dave, who hadn't quite snapped out of his stupor.

“You mean there are creatures in the world smaller than you, Blaine?” Kurt jested.

The Dwarves went silent, and then roared even louder, whooping with laughter and calling out raunchy taunts, many in a language Kurt couldn't understand.

“Yes, yes, I'm short. I get it,” Blaine admitted brightly, in evidence of his good-nature that he took none of their jokes seriously, “but now I think I'd better find my brother and make arrangements to get you out of here.”

“We're leaving so soon, little brother? The five of us were just beginning to get used to it here.” Everyone turned in unison to face the Dwarf walking through the fallen rocks, picking up and tossing many of them aside instead of maneuvering around them. Even in his obliterated clothes, with his matted hair and his ashen skin, this Dwarf looked like Blaine, only older, and his eyes, instead of being honey-gold, were an astonishing shade of blue.

It could definitely be said that Blaine and his brother harbored beauty in spades.

Kurt was prepared to let go of Blaine's hand so he could be welcomed by his brother, but he found himself pulled along to meet the older Andurinin heir.

“Blaine,” Cooper said, opening his arms for his brother. “I thought you would not make it to us in time.”

“I feared that as well.” Blaine buried his face into his brother's shoulder. “I am so happy to see that you are all right.” Kurt heard the very real threat of tears in Blaine's voice, muffled slightly by his brother's torn vest.

“I am happy that you are, too,” Cooper whispered, running a hand soothingly through his brother's curls. Brother and brother held each other, whispering sentiments that faded into one another's ears without a need to be heard by all.

Cooper kissed his brother's cheek and smiled, then opened his eyes and immediately saw Kurt.

“And is this the Elf I have to thank for delivering you safely to us?” Cooper said, his voice, his face, his whole demeanor changing as he pushed Blaine aside and approached Kurt.

“Yes,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes. “This is Kurt of Rivendell. Kurt, this is my brother, Cooper of the Andurinin Clan.”

Kurt extended his hand in a gesture of trust, and Cooper took it, bringing it up to his lips in much the same way Blaine did and kissing it. Kurt's eyes looked over Cooper's head to find Blaine, shaking his head and staring up at the sky.

Kurt definitely saw what Blaine meant about his brother being destined more for the stage.

Kurt had never met anyone quite so pretentious in his entire life.

Now that Kurt had been introduced to the entire party, he discovered again that he was wrong about the temperament of Dwarves, for not another of them looked at him as meanly as Puck, so among the Andurinin Clan it seemed to be Puck and not Blaine who was to aberration.

Cooper stared deeply into Kurt's eyes until the silence dragged on too long and became uncomfortable for all around – so much so that the Dwarves turned and returned back to their Mountain, confident that Cooper and Blaine would soon follow without any prompting from them.

“Uh, Coop?” Blaine interceded, tapping his brother on the shoulder. Cooper didn't acknowledge the interruption, smiling at Kurt with his hand still held captive. “Cooper?” Blaine tried again, and Kurt helped him along by pulling his hand from Cooper's grasp.

“What is it, Blaine?” Cooper hissed, sounding highly annoyed.

“We have things we need to discuss,” Blaine said.

“Such as?” Cooper asked, turning on his brother. Blaine sighed, and Cooper saw something in Blaine's eyes that brought him back to the present.

“Where is he?” Blaine asked.

He? Kurt thought. He recounted the Dwarves in his head. Artie was back in Rivendell, and Cooper, Puck, Mike, Dave, and Sam were all here. That made six Dwarves – the entire party. Then there was Blaine.

So, who was he?

“He is in the throne room,” his brother said kindly, though there was no hiding the sadness in his blue eyes, or the tilt to his mouth which fought not to become a fully realized frown.

Blaine pulled himself up straight.

“I would like to go see him, please.”