The story now jumps a couple of months ahead. Hope you like!
Chapter 2: Wandering Aimlessly
The gleaming blade sliced their heads off cleanly and without a sound. The warrior then turned his attention to his silent opponent standing tall in the center of the clearing. He approached slowly with measured, sure steps as his adversary held out heavily armored limbs, seemingly daring him to come closer. With a loud war cry, the warrior weaved a deadly dance before lopping off the enemy's limbs, finally sending the defeated figure crashing to the ground. Then he heard a snort and turned around.
"Feeling better now, laddie?" Balin asked as he looked at the heads of various flowers strewn on the ground and an old tree trunk chopped to pieces.
Thorin wiped the back of his fist across his mouth and shook his head.
"No," he said as he lowered his sword and surveyed the devastation he wrought in his battle against nature. He toed one of the hacked branches on the ground, making Balin think of their habit of checking for signs of life among their fallen enemies. "I don't think I'll ever feel better. Not after these past few days."
Balin clucked in sympathy and shook his head. He walked over to Thorin and touched his arm, but the young prince wrenched it away and walked over to a large rock. Leaning against it, he took his sword and punched the tip into the soft dirt over and over while his royal advisor and friend watched with furrowed brow. After the coming of Smaug, the surviving dwarves of Erebor meandered for weeks in the countryside with help from precious few. They had run for their lives that infamous day, and not many were able to take anything of value. Fortunately though, enough grabbed their purses of gold and precious gems, and with those the dwarves were at least able to buy food and supplies to camp outside the various towns they encountered. Members of the royal family and other nobles also bartered and sold the jewels they wore to buy weapons and tools. Too soon though, those exposed to Smaug's fiery breath found themselves coughing up blood and increasingly unable to keep up with the rest. Thorin insisted on being present for every burial.
"My prince …" Balin began with hesitation, "you know that deaths are inevitable. Many whose lungs were scorched with dragon fire can't be expected to survive …." He stopped as Thorin held up his palm.
"Nothing you can say," he said softly in a rich baritone, "will make any difference, Balin. The cruel fact is my people are dying before my eyes, and I can't do anything about it."
Then he looked up at the sky and shook his fists, crying out in Khuzdul. His deep voice raged until he dropped his head and rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, willing them not to tear. Balin heard the anguish in his voice and sighed. Thorin had expected to rule after his grandfather and father—not instead of them—but Thror kept to his tent staring at a pendant of his late wife, which he refused to part with even though it would provide food for his people for a month, and Thrain …. Balin's lips pressed together. Thrain held court in the largest tent and concerned himself with minutiae, busying himself with obscure, royal protocols while refusing to face the difficult decisions that needed to be made daily. Thorin made his excuses at each burial, saying that his father was busy attending to other matters, but he fooled no one.
Balin looked up under his increasingly bushy eyebrows at the solemn prince who leaned against the rock with his eyes closed, and he mourned the heavy burden that fell too soon on his broad shoulders.
Even so, Balin thought, they already look to him to lead them, and he loves them too well to fail them. He will die for them if need be. That has to be worth something.
The doughty dwarf scowled as he looked over at the royal encampment in the distance and saw Thrain surrounded by witless, minor nobles who flattered and fawned but did nothing to ease their people's sufferings. Forever in meetings with various counselors, Thrain made endless plans to return to Erebor without ever considering how to contend with the resident dragon.
Then a guard ran over and bowed. Thorin straightened immediately and assumed a princely posture. Gone was the despairing dwarf of a moment ago. Instead stood the calm and commanding Prince of Erebor.
"My lord," he puffed, "we have visitors who require an audience with you."
Thorin stiffened, and his eyebrows lowered. The dwarves had received little help in their tragedy, and he had become suspicious of all visitors after some snuck in after dark intending to rob them of what little they had left. After several night raids, Thorin posted guards in rotating shifts.
"How many?" he asked. Balin stroked his beard in worry.
"Eight, my lord," the guard replied, "and two are women."
At that, their eyebrows rose, and they walked quickly toward the large tent that served as a throne room. Balin quickly brushed flower petals and pieces of grass off Thorin before the frustrated prince slapped his hands away, but then he straightened his sweaty tunic and tried to look as regal as possible before turning to Balin for his opinion. The old dwarf pulled a few more bits of leaf out of Thorin's hair before he nodded and shrugged. Entering the tent, they saw before them four soldiers and four richly dressed nobles. Their obvious finery marked them as of the neighboring city, and Thorin stifled a groan, expecting them to be a delegation demanding that they move on.
"I am Thorin, Prince of Durin," he said smoothly and gestured for sentries to bring chairs for his guests. No longer of Erebor, he thought. Surreptitiously, he wiped the dirty toes of his boots on the grass while trying not to fidget since he knew that his soiled attire was not appropriate for meeting guests of any kind, much less nobility, but one of the nobles caught him, and his lip curled in contempt.
"I am Eldor," he said proudly, "prince of the six cities of this land—and of the surrounding countryside in which your people temporarily reside. With me are my mother, Queen Miraine; my sister, Princess Tayla; and our steward, Lord Henrin."
Balin scrunched his mouth and waited for the unpleasantness to begin. He glanced at Thorin and saw his jaw working back and forth as he battled with his pride. Knowing that he was in no position to demand or even ask anything, Thorin ground his teeth at not being able to meet this man as an equal. Indeed, his status as a prince of Erebor would have had this man kneeling before him not so long ago, but that time was gone and would never return and, judging by the gleam in the young man's eye, he knew it too.
"At your service," Thorin said between his teeth, and he gave a short bow to each and waited silently. The prince tilted his head and took his measure. He was of average height and rather unattractive with a hook nose and thin face, but standing with his legs apart and his hand on his hip, he acted like he ruled the dwarves as well as men.
"Where is King Thror?" he inquired pleasantly, but both dwarves heard the underlying malice.
"The king was injured and is presently recovering," Balin said diplomatically. The prince turned and scrutinized Balin's official robes and insignia.
"Ah, indeed," he replied, "and your father, Prince Thrain? Is he indisposed as well?"
Thorin squared his shoulders and was about to bite the man's head off when, surprisingly, the queen silenced her son with a look and stepped forward. She was slighter than the prince, but her eyes were bright and penetrating, and he scowled but stepped back.
"Prince Thorin," she said firmly, "your people are many, and the land cannot support them all for long without a serious strain on our resources, but we come in peace and with something that may help your people who suffer from the effects of dragon breath."
At that, both Balin and Thorin started in surprise and stepped closer. The queen looked at the dwarf prince, who stood a head below her, and recognized his honest fear and concern for his people. She smiled and nodded, knowing then that she had done the right thing despite her son's loud objections.
"In ancient times, when dragons plagued this land, our people developed an ointment," and she motioned for the soldiers to step forward, "to ease the effects of dragon breath."
The men bowed and placed large pots of pungent salve on the table next to Thorin.
"The salve must be smeared on a cloth and held to the nose near steam, so the vapors can be inhaled for at least an hour," the queen continued. "If done daily, within a moon cycle, the lungs will be able to heal themselves. These pots will treat 500 of your people, and we have more should you have need of it."
Then the prince, who had paced behind her while biting his thumbnail, marched forward.
"How can you do this, mother?" he cried. "After all that they did to us!"
Thorin and Balin turned to him in surprise.
"Don't look so innocent!" he said angrily. "Your greed killed my brother, the crown prince!"
The queen's face crumpled, and she bowed her head, while the princess stepped closer to her mother and clutched her arm.
"Lord Henrin," the queen said in a shaky voice, "please escort the prince outside to wait by the horses."
The older man turned and faced down the young prince whose chin was lifted. The two glared at each other until the prince dropped his eyes and stepped outside the lifted flap. When his angry mutterings could no longer be heard, the queen turned back to Thorin.
"I apologize for that display," she said. "It has been a difficult time for us as well."
Balin stroked his beard and then gestured at the tent flap.
"What did he mean, my queen?" he asked.
She did not answer but put her hand to her mouth and shook her head instead as tears gathered.
"My brother, the crown prince, was friends with King Girion's son," Princess Tayla said softly. "He was visiting Dale the day the dragon came. When my father, the king, heard the news, he suffered a stroke and now ls on his death-bed."
Burning shame coursed through Thorin's veins, and his shoulders dropped. While, he, of course, knew of Dale and thought sadly of the fate of his neighbors, he did not realize until now how far the tragedy had spread, and all because of his grandfather's greed.
"My queen, I," he stuttered, but she lifted her hand.
"It's not your fault," she said evenly. "It's not even Thror's fault. The dragon did not need to attack Dale to reach Erebor. It killed because it's wicked, and one day vengeance will come, but in the meantime, we who suffer must either forgive or turn as bitter and as evil as that monster." In a whisper, she added, "I fear that for my son."
Thorin's mouth fell open at her unexpected generosity of spirit, and he fell to his knees before her, but she bade him rise and put her hands on his shoulders.
"You are a prince of Erebor," she said, "and your people need you. No doubt your elders are suffering the same despair as my husband, which leaves you and me to meet the needs of our people. I had heard as much in court, and that is why I came."
She smiled through her tears, and Thorin's throat choked. He was not sure he would be as generous and welcoming if the reverse were true, and then came the thought of payment.
"My lady," he began hoarsely, "we have nothing to offer in payment of this most welcome aid …," and he shook his head helplessly.
Princess Tayla glanced at her mother and then spoke.
"We ask for nothing in return, Prince Thorin," she said calmly. Then she smiled. "Except, perhaps, that you do the same, if in time you find someone who needs your help."
Then she rubbed her hands together and clasped them in front of her.
"My father is expected to live no longer than two full moons," she said. "Our custom is to mourn for one full moon, and then my brother will ascend the throne."
Queen Miraine nodded and looked gravely at both Thorin and Balin.
"You and your people must be past our borders before then," she said, "or Eldor will attack without mercy. Many in the council also want revenge for my son's death, but I am regent for now, and I can give you two months of peace. The land beyond ours to the west is ruled well in matters of state, and the king there will not allow Eldor to cross his borders in hostility. However, I warn you now to hide your women from him, and if he compels an inspection, hide them among the men. He is ruthless in his appetites, and many a maid has borne his bastards."
Balin winced, but Thorin's eyes opened wide at the threats surrounding his people. Queen Miraine saw the burden in his eyes and shook her head sadly.
"Such is the world we live in, Prince Thorin," she said, "and you will need to gather those you can count on to help share the load." Then she smiled as she glanced at Balin, who had puffed his chest out and taken a defensive stand next to his prince. "I see you have already begun."
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