Chapter 1

Though it had been three weeks since Hertha had arrived in Erebor, she had yet to see any of it. Due to a high fever she had been bedridden for nearly a month, and had seen nothing of the kingdom but her sheets and the roof of the sickbay.

The silence was perhaps the only thing that made being ill almost bearable. Hertha was one of those rare dwarven maids who enjoyed sitting still, and could be alone for hours on end with nothing but her books, her sketches and her thoughts. Since the healer had declared her fit and ready for battle two days ago, she had been wandering about the mountain, trying to find a quiet place. The first day she had, after searching for almost three hours, been made aware of the fact that this mountain did not have a public library. Which prompted her to return home. She spent another two hours locating this new home.

Hertha found herself yet again wanting to explore this wondrous place. At break of dawn, though there was no clear dawn at this time of year, she gathered her things, her paper and the little box of coals in a basket along with some food and set about to find a motive. It had now been hours since she had a faint idea of where she was. After endless locked doors or signs that prohibited one from going further, and after ascending more stairs then she had ever believed she could muster, Hertha suddenly found herself on a balcony far up the mountain side. As she walked in she noticed that the room itself was square, quite large with no furniture of any kind. She put down her basket at the wall closest to the door and turned to look at the balcony. The balcony itself had, like most of dwarven architecture, a geometric shape. If one looked at it from above, it reminded one of a square where the edges had been cut of. The entrance to the balcony portrayed a simpler version of the great halls far below. The railing of the balcony reminded her of stone arches plummeting through each other forming a unified whole.

Hertha drenched her lungs in the fresh air seeping in as she looked at what seemed to be all of Middle earth. She closed her eyes for a moment, appreciating the peace and quiet that one found on this remote balcony. She looked at the mountain below her, she almost expected the it to never stop, but far beneath her, she could see the bridge and the road that lead to Dale. Her gaze trailed the road to the city of man, it seemed so small from here, and Lake Town seemed even smaller, and far more broken. It had only been a two months since the serpent fell, and one could still clearly see the mark it had left. Hertha wondered if the town on the lake ever would be rebuilt. She truly hoped so, it's strategic location was of great value. Far greater than that of the city of Dale, which only truly existed because it was by far much easier to travel from Dale to Erebor than from Lake Town. No, Lake Town had an important position, both in trade and in war. Hertha wished that her king also knew that.

A few of Herthas wild curls were caught by the wind, obscuring her view. She lifted her hand and put it behind her ear again, silently cursing herself for not putting her hair in a braid this morning. Not that she had put too much thought into her looks, though she was a noble, she had no wish to always behave like one. Not in the sense that she seeked out trouble or spoke rudely to others. No, Hertha just had no wish to always have to look the part. Especially not when all she wanted was to be in her own company. She returned to her basket near the wall. Opening the box of coals, she selected one at random. She did not waste time, as she grabbed her papers and walked the distance from the wall to the balcony. Gazing over the landscape again, this time with a critical eye, she began sketching.

Many hours later, the light had shifted to that of a midday sun. Hertha had not noticed. If she was to be know for two things it were that she had no sense of direction, and absolutely no sense of time passing when enjoying herself. She now sat on the ground, several paces away from the balcony with her back against the wall. The piece of paper in front of her showed the opening in the stone, and how the light shone through, giving the space at the top of the mountain a special atmosphere. As Hertha was putting the finishing touches to her art, she heard heavy foot steps approaching. She turned to look at the door to her right, expecting to see a silhouette. But even though the steps seemed to be getting closer, no one entered through the door. Hertha stared confused at the door, not fully understanding what was happening. It was only when she shook her head and looked towards the balcony again that she must have been a second door leading to the balcony. Suddenly a dwarf had appeared. He stood right in the middle of the balcony, gazing over the same view that Hertha had admired for the first time only hours before.

The dwarf was unusually tall, his black and grey hair slightly blowing in the wind. He was leaning on the balcony, showing the royal blue tunic underneath the coat that rested on his broad shoulders. The coat, with it's large fur collar, only gave the impression of broadening the dwarf. Hertha suspected he was a noble dwarf, and by his stance she saw something else. She saw a warrior, one that has seen many sorrows and battles, but also the greatest victory of them all. A dwarfs return to Erebor.

Though it would have been proper of Hertha to introduce herself, she decided against it. This dwarf had most likely yearned for the same thing as her when coming here. She gazed at him for another second before she started to make him a part of her art.

Thorin had had a rough day. Truly the events that had held him since he had risen from bed were starting to take it's toll on the normally so hardened dwarf. At the first sign of peace from the ever so demanding nobles, Thorin had left to seek refuge in the one place that had soothed his minds since his childhood. His quest took him far from the Hall of Kings, and as the voices had begun to fade away, Thorin found himself gazing upon a familiar sight. His heavy shoulders already seeming lighter. The small room was in complete darkness, apart from the light seeping in from the balcony leading out, out of the mountain. Now viewing his kingdom from above, he felt the bitter aftertaste letting go. He knew what he did was out of necessity, there was simply no other way, it had to be done. There was a kingdom to rule. A short while passed before his ears registered the muffed scratching sound coming from somewhere in the room. At first he had thought nothing of it, his thoughts too far away to realise. Though when he finally did, he slowly straightened his back, readying his every muscle to tackle any opposing danger.

Thorin knew not what he had expected, but surely the sight that met him was as far from his mind as anything. Only a few paces behind where he stood sat a dwarf maiden on the ground, sketching. Her hair, dark brown in colour, had fallen in front of her face, the frizzy curls forming a crown obscuring her facial features. Her curls, which seemed not to know where to lay, stood out in all directions. Thorin approached her, curious as to whom she was, and most of all what she was doing here.

Hearing the footsteps, Hertha looked up. She was a little disappointed that he had discovered her so soon, her drawing had just the finishing touches left. She placed her drawings on the floor beside her and rose. Not caring for her coal-covered fingers she performed her best curtsy. The dwarf was definetly of noble birth. She straightened herself, looking at the dwarf in front of her with warm eyes. "Hertha, daughter of Halvar, at your service." she smiled. "What can I do for you Master dwarf?

Thorin looked at her, her forrest green dress made her eyes shine even brighter. Compared to other dwarfs she seemed awfully thin, so delicate that he was sure she would shatter into a thousand pieces if hugged too tightly. The maiden made no sign of impatience while waiting for him to answer. Thorin did not believe he needed to introduce himself, after all, he was king. Instead he asked her, impatiently, what she was doing here. " I am drawing, Master dwarf. The view from here is most exquisite, and it is such a quiet place that I can do nothing but adore it." She replied calmly. Thorin grew impatient, this was not the answer he wanted.

"No, I mean, how did you get here?". Thorin barked, he had no time for this, he wished to be alone. The maiden, who seemed not at all affected by his behavior, chuckled. Thorin felt the rage run through him, this day had not been kind to him and being laughed at did nothing to improve the situation. His hands formed tight fists. "Oh, Master dwarf, I did not intend to offend you! I only reminded myself of my long route here." Hertha rushed. "You see, I most probably have the worst sense of direction in all of Middle earth, and I do not know for how long or where I walked to arrive here. So I simply cannot give you a good answer to your questions." Thorin stared at her. But before he could give her an answer, she continued. "Am I not allowed to be here? I..." "-No!" The king cut her off mid sentence. "Leave me! Now!" He exclaimed briskly.

Hertha stared in disbelief at the dwarf. Giving him a short curtsy, she picked up her basket and left through the doorway from whence she came without another word. The king stood still for a long time, slowly realizing the consequences of his short temper. He cursed himself in Khuzdul, he had no right to lash out at his subjects in such a manner. She was not to blame, it was not right of him to project his rage upon her. He sighed,and his gaze fell to the floor. There he noticed sheets of paper, laying abandoned on the floor. The dwarf maiden must have forgotten them in her haste to leave. He crouched down to pick them up. Looking through them he realized that she must have been on the balcony all day, and he had been the one to interrupt her. One of the papers showed the view of middle earth from the balcony, he recognized the horde tradesmen that had arrived in Erebor during the early hours of the morning on the road from Dale. The next paper startled him, it was a detailed drawing of the balcony. Overlapping the balcony in certain places, a rushed hand had drawn a silhouette looking out. His silhouette.