Chapter 2

Thorin watched Lord Bragen and his family retreated from the throne room before descending from the throne, his steps heavy and measured.

"I did not recognise you at first, Lady Bren," he said as he came to stand before her, well aware of the puzzled eyes of Balin, Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli on his back. Bren had changed a great deal, but then she had been very young when he had last seen her. Now she looked a much stronger and independent dwarrowdam. Not that she hadn't always been so.

"Aye, I noticed that your majesty," she said with a slight smile that showed slight lines about her eyes. She tilted her head to the side and some of that dark red hair fell in her face. "I also noticed that your nose recovered from the last time we met."

"No thanks to your fist," he retorted as a wry smile passed his face.

"I thought I was going to be executed for that," she said with a huff. "Punching a prince and all… although you did mistake me for a lad."

"I can't help it you dressed and acted like a lad," the King told her. "Besides, I never told anyone it was you who hit me."

"Really? That makes sense I suppose," Bren smirked. "Couldn't have the world knowing that the great warrior Thorin Oakenshield got beat down by a little whisp of lass could we, your majesty?"

Thorin's lips quirked as though he was about to smile again but thought better of it. "It's good to see you again. I never saw you again after Eldi… and your mother and brother…"

"I never saw much of anyone for a good ten or fifteen years afterwards, so don't think yourself so lucky," For a moment Bren forgot she was addressing the King of their people and bit her lip as the words slipped out. She wondered if she should rectify the situation but thought better of it. Instead the dwarrowdam decided to push her luck for a little longer. "It's strange though. If I hadn't of turned into a grief stricken wreck we would have been wed after Eldi's death."

"Strange indeed," Thorin admitted with a drawn look on his face. Bren scowled at him.

"I'm not that bad your majesty! I was a lady once upon a time," she thought she might have heard Thorin scoff at her but blamed it on echoes in the hall.

"You and uncle were to be wed?" all the dwarves in the room turned with raised eyebrows to look at young Kíli who flushed a bit under the sudden attention but didn't retract his question.

"Uh… yes my prince," Bren bobbed her slightly, having forgotten that any of the others were in the room. "After my sister died. That's how the laws work."

"I was betrothed to Lady Bren's sister Eldi when we were young. It was arranged, of course, and during our people's exile. Lady Eldi died unexpectedly and the law states that the next daughter is to take up the betrothal. That was Lady Bren, and she was granted a time to deal with her grief. But then my father went missing and everything just fell apart," Bren couldn't help but note the way Thorin distanced himself as he was speaking, with no emotion in his voice or facial expression. It was disheartening. She had known him as a fiery and fierce male, but she supposed that his father's disappearance and the rule of his people had changed him a great deal, and not necessarily for the better. "That was a long time ago though."

"One hundred and six years now," Bren provided helpfully with a twist to her lips. She almost looked like she was in physical pain. She turned to the King with something that looked a mix between a smile and a grimace. "And now you're marrying my other sister. Hooray."

"Lady Mheren's your sister?" Kíli asked. Bren smiled; he was an inquisitive thing wasn't he?

"Half-sister, yes," she paused. "My father was forced to remarry after the death of my mother. Political reasons, of course."

"I imagine that's the reason they didn't reinvoke your betrothal," the other brother, Fíli, mused. "Your father remarrying would have stripped you of your rights and titles."

"That is it indeed, prince Fíli. Though I was told that I am too old, too wild and too pig-headed also." Bren scowled slightly. "What dwarrowdam likes being told she's old? I'm not even that old!"

"No you're not. You're what? A hundred and fifty?" Thorin's brow furrowed like he was trying to remember. Bren stared at him for a moment and wondered if she would be executed this time if she broke his nose again.

"I'm a hundred and thirty seven," she growled. "Your majesty."

"My apologies, Bren, I meant no insult," Thorin hastily tried to rectify with as much dignity as he could manage as his companions snorted with bridled laughter behind him. He had been on the receiving end of a dwarrowdam's rage –namely his sister's – enough times to know that he had to fix it fast. Or escape. "Would you care to be escorted to your room now?"

"Perhaps that would be best," Bren replied stiffly. "Lest I die of old age in your throne room your majesty."

Thorin shot her another apologetic glance before retreating behind his typical reserved exterior. He gestured for a guard and Bren shot each member of the room a nod before leaving the King with a final bow and retreating, imagining the tongue-lashing she was about to receive from Lady Miffe.

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"Your quarters, my lady," the guard said, gesturing to the door on his right. It was on a short, wide corridor with a few other doors that Bren assumed belonged to the servants that would be working for Lord Bragen and his family during their stay. A part of her was enraged that she would be reduced to servant's quarters, but she would rather that than staying with the family directly. Besides, she had lived with less many times in the past.

"The door at the end of the hall leads directly into the family's common area," the guard told her before bowing and disappearing back down the hall. Bren stared after him for a moment bemoaning what little she was offered in way of directions before she opened the door before her and stepped inside.

She was immediately in the lounge, no foyer being necessary in regards to servant's quarters, and there was a single couch, a fire, a rug on the floor and a few empty shelves. It was very sparse and Bren had few belongings of her own to brighten it up with. She looked about but saw no washroom, meaning she would have to use community baths, as well as join either her family or the rest of society for meals as there was no kitchen either. Aside from the lounge there was one other room and that was the bedroom. It held nothing but two single beds, a bedside table between them, a vanity and a wardrobe. The floor was cold, smooth stone, just like the walls and ceiling.

Bren sighed and moved towards the bed, before stubbing her booted toe on something that bumped along the floor a little. She glanced down and was relieved to see the single pack she had brought with her. Bren picked it up and upended it on the other bed, her clothing falling out in a tangled heap. There were also a couple of candles that she had carefully wrapped and brought with her – both smelt like mint – three books and a spare pair of boots. That was all she had carried with her to this new and unfamiliar place.

Looking at the clothing tossed on the other bed Bren rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she flopped back onto the other mattress, laying spread-eagled across the small mattress. She would need to buy new clothing, new boots and some jewellery if she was to be staying in Erebor until Mheren's wedding. But first she needed a bath.

Bren growled and rolled back off the mattress that wasn't quite as soft as she would like it to be. She stood up and cast off her sword belt, digging all of her knives out of the places they were hidden. She kept one attached around her upper thigh though, just in case. She changed her into her other boots which weren't quite so clotted with mud nor were they so large or steel-toed.

Then she strode to the door with a purpose, a clean set of clothes under her arm along with a comb. She pushed the door open and stuck her head out into the hallway looking both left and right before stepping outside. She turned and locked the door behind her with the key she had procured on the dresser.

"Lady Bren?" a timid voice called from behind her and she turned back, seeing a young dwarrowdam looking at her anxiously.

"Yes?" she replied, wondering what this shy little lamb could possibly want.

"My name's Dina, Lady Bren. The King has asked that I serve you during your stay," The young female bobbed her head and her dark curls bounced with the motion. She was shorter than Bren, and narrower with a gentle look to her.

"Serve me?" Bren asked confused. "I am no lady; I do not need a young lass like you waiting on me."

"It is no trouble at all, my lady," the girl, Dina, said and Bren knew there was no way she was going to get rid of the little thing. Besides, she could be useful.

"Very well, then," Bren conceded. "But you will not call me 'lady' for I am not one."

"Yes miss Bren," the maid said, bobbing her head again. She looked up at her new mistress with an eager smile, her green eyes shining brightly. "Is there anything I can help with my la – miss Bren?"

"I need a bath," Bren said simply, gesturing to the clothes tucked under her arm. "And then I need to go shopping."

"Of course miss Bren!" The girl grinned, eager to be of use even if it was just as a glorified map. "This way, and may I take your clothes?"

Reluctantly Bren handed her fresh clothes to the young female and followed after her as she all but skipped down the hall, the older dwarrowdam sighing and reconciling herself to an overly exuberant lady in waiting. Not that she needed waiting on at all.

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The bathing house is bustling when they arrive but Bren is not apprehensive. She has bathed this way many times, and in far more compromising scenarios on the road also. Dina leads her down a set of stars lined with rush mats to prevent anyone from slipping and to a junction that has two halls leading from it. Above each are the Khuzdul runes for male and female respectively. Dina leads her down the hall to the left which is lit by small glowing lanterns and then turns another corner.

The bathing house is expansive, and must be even more so on the male side. There are baths of varying sizes, all set down in the stone floor like pools. Some are small, only seating one or two dwarves, and others are far larger, capable of accommodating a score or more. All the single baths are currently occupied but Bren isn't overly fussed. Dina leads her down the far end of the bathing house where there are medium sized pools and takes Bren's clothing as she strips, setting the dirty stuff down in a basket and eyeing the knife that her mistress hands her with apprehension. But she takes it and sets it in a small alcove in the wall along with Bren's boots, comb and clean clothing before laying out a soft downy towel also. Bren notes with interest that she isn't the only dwarrowdam who is utterly shameless in regards to being bare in public; a number of females do the same, whilst others step into the water whilst wearing a thin robe which is shed thereafter.

Bren slipped into the bath and sighed as the hot water flowed over her travel-weary body. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dina walking off with the basket of her filthy clothes, taking them to the launders. Bren doesn't care, she just leans back and sinks down to her eyes as she imagines that the dirt has just upped and floated off her in a cloud but knew that wasn't so, instead reaching for a bar of soap and scrubbing vigorously at herself. Her skin turned red under her ministrations. When she was done and appropriately clean she tugged the braid from her hair and submerged herself, scrubbing at her scalp to get her hair nice and loose. The she took a bottle of lightly scented oil and upturned it in her palm before slathering it on her scalp and massaging it in vigorously. She rinsed and lay back once again, wondering when it had ever become so difficult for her to live a normal life where she could just enjoy a bath. She had not done so for a very long time, always on the road or rushing or something. This was a pleasant change of pace she concluded.

There were people in the bath around her, and on the floor behind her but she paid them no heed, rather just taking the rare opportunity to let the hot water untangle her snarled muscles and soothe old aches. But even as she relished the moment she knew she couldn't stay. So Bren rose and stepped out of the bath, taking the towel Dina offered her and wrapping it about herself. The maiden carried her clothes and led Bren to a small room removed from the rest of the baths by a rush curtain. Inside was a chair, a vanity and a mirror. Bren dried herself and changed into her dress– reluctantly accepting Dina's aid – which was a dark stormy grey with pale ivory stitching at the cuffs and neck.

Then she sat and Dina set to work, drying her hair with gentle, practised hands before she split the half damp strands into sections and began braiding them back, in the same way they had been before; two wide braids going back around the crown of her head and knotted at the back. In truth the maid was a little frustrated that she evidently wasn't going to get an opportunity to try anything a little more elaborate.

"So, where were you from before you came to Erebor?" Bren asked after a long moment, hating the silence that she knew that maid would not break without prompting.

"I was born in Ered Luin, Miss Bren," the young dwarrowdam replied without looking up.

"I've never been to the Blue Mountains," Bren mused, rubbing her beard with the back of a knuckled.

"I liked it very much there, though it was the only home I knew till recently," Dina said with a tiny, fond smile on her face.

"Why did you leave?" Bren asked, watching the other dam's face in the mirror.

"My parents died when I was young, so I live with my aunt who is a widow. She was Lady Dís' lady-in-waiting in Ered Luin so she followed her lady when she came here to Erebor," Dina answered honestly, the words flowing from her naïve tongue.

Bren closed her eyes for a brief moment and tried to summon an image of Dís to her mind. She couldn't quite manage it, though whether that was because of the passage of time or because she had never actually met Dís she couldn't be sure. She had a peculiar feeling that it was the latter; Thraín had ever been a jealous dwarf, and would have kept his fairest and only daughter hidden away from other's eyes until she was wed. Bren imagined that the lady of Durin been suffocated for much of her early life. A part of the dwarrowdam rebelled against the very idea of it, and she knew she would have been clawing at the walls if she had of been in Dís' place.

"Makes sense," Bren grunted after she thrashed those thoughts out of her head, realising that she had best formulate some kind of reply for the maiden, who chewed her lip for a moment as though thinking hard.

"What about you, Miss Bren? You lived in the Iron Hills, did you not? Were you sad to leave them behind?" Dina, realising that she had just broken one of the cardinal rules of being a good lady-in-waiting with her questions prying into the older dam's life, stuttered and flushed. "Apologies my Lady! I did not mean to step out of line!"

Dina had taken a quick step back, releasing Bren's half-done braid which quickly unravelled, and stood with her head bowed as though expecting reproach. Bren felt a rush of sympathy for the young female; she must have quite the expectations to live up to if her aunt was indeed the princess's lady-in-waiting. Bren expected Dina had gotten the rules of her trade drilled into her head from the time she was a young child.

"It is no matter lass," Bren said, trying to soften her voice in the comforting manner she would with a wild or spooked animal. "I would rather you spoke to me. I expect I will be quite lonely here otherwise."

Her admission coaxed a small smile from the teary eyed maiden who took a tentative step forward and regathered Bren's hair, beginning the braiding again. "Thank you, Miss Bren. It is very kind of you to be so generous with me, and I hope that you will not be lonely here in the least."

"I hope not too," Bren told her with a fond smile. The girl was growing on her already, particularly with the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Dina was just so innocent and tender. "But as to your questions, I was raised in the Iron Hills and have lived there often enough to call them home I suppose, though I do not truly see it as such. I wander mostly, travelling from cities to encampments and villages; anywhere our people dwell."

"That sounds exciting," Dina enthused, a smile on her face.

"It can be. Other times it can be tiresome and boring."

"Do you miss the Iron Hills?" Dina asked again. "I've never been there."

"Sometimes I miss it. It is very open, beautiful really, and many dwarves spend a majority of their time above ground which suits me just fine. I suppose that I miss the people there most of all, though," Bren admitted. It was nice to be able to talk to someone, and she had no doubt that Dina would not spread even a whisper of her words to anyone else.

"You like being above ground?" Dina asked, pure curiosity shining in her gaze.

"I think if you scratched beneath the surface you will find many of our people who were raised in exile would favour the open sky over a stone one. It is just what you become accustomed to as a youngster," Bren smiled slightly as Dina's brow furrowed. "Is that too strange for you, lass?"

"No, I don't think so," she nodded her head a little stiffly. "My aunt said that those who were raised serving others will always think that right, whilst those forced into servitude will always rebel."

"She sounds a wise woman," Bren confessed, laughing slightly as the younger dam pulled a face.

"Perhaps. She also said that was why we should be so proud of our position in life, because we will live our entire lives selfless if we are true to ourselves." She smirked a little as this time it was Bren who was making faces. "Is that too strange for you, Miss Bren?"

Bren shrugged, rolling her eyes at the impudence. "Sometimes a little selfishness is a good thing. Overindulgence is the curse."

"And the greatest weapon against that is abstinence," Dina said with a broad grin as she finished the second braid and knotted them together. Bren became aware that she had just been revealed a tid-bit of information from within the depths of the servant's guild and again smiled at the maiden's naivety. Selflessness and abstinence… core values of the servant's guild. It was an interesting snippet of knowledge, though not an altogether useful one.

"Each to his own, I suppose," Bren murmured as she stood from the chair and looked at herself in the mirror. She blinked. Her hair was neater and straighter than she had seen it in years, all of the knots and tangles combed out with meticulous braids. Bren rarely spent too much time or effort on her braids since there always seemed something more important to do. Somehow Dina had managed to get most of her unruly hair out of her face and it made her look… more ladylike perhaps.

"Right," Bren said after an uncomfortable moment. "As much as I hate to say it… shopping."

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