Breaking into a Mountain
By: Lauthica Green Clinkenbeard
Chapter Four: Concern of the Common People
A letter written by Bofur sent to his brother, Bombur.
Please pardon me, Brother for writing instead of a personal visit. As I discussed with you the other night, the toy shop is now taking up most of my time. The first few days will be tough; getting all the supplies and things ready. You will see less of me, but I am confident that this idea will bloom. Bifur should be coming within a fortnight and we will all get together for a feast, I promise. One of my first projects will be to try and re-create that toy grandfather made with the horse on wheels. I remember when he first gave that to us. That was fun. I miss those good old days sometimes. Do you remember that one time when uncle Kokoff tripped on that one toy he made that had the box looking top and the wheels and the turning clog? He broke his nose on the fall and everyone said that his nostril's shadow could tell you the time of day. He made a mean beef roast though.
I got a little off topic there for a moment. I must tell you of the events of last night. When last we spoke we talked of Thorin Oakenshield. He is becoming one of my very good friends and I feel that he enjoys sharing his time in my, and father's company. He works hard in the smith and father's orders are growing. That night I first met him at the tavern, I could tell that he took a fancy to Eevliina. That same night he tried to follow her and ended up almost getting robbed by a couple of thugs. And you will never guess who rescued him. Eevliina herself! Anyway, he gave her my name instead of his for fear of shame and that next morning was when I found the bag of gold. Then it was that night that I tried to get Eevliina to sit at our table, mine and Thorin's that is. She got all angry when she learned that I was really myself instead of Thorin and left, and then Thorin got a little bit angry. But oh well. I thought that I would be done dealing in his little romance problem, but last night I had a couple of strange visitors.
There I was, sound asleep, dreaming of toys and such when a knock came to my door. I got up, lit a candle, and answered it thinking that it could have been father, or Bifur come early. Instead, I open my door to find Thorin carrying Eevliina, clothes torn and bloodied. I was shocked at first. Who wouldn't be?
"What a pleasant surprise," I said, "Don't just stand out there in the chill. Come on inside. I'll crack open the good ale."
"Thank you, Bofur," Thorin said.
He hurried into the house and laid Eevliina down on my bed. I just sort of stood there watching him, trying to figure out what was going on as he ran around my house drawing the curtains on every window. He had a sweat on his brow and looked anxious.
"Bofur, I need broth and milk," he said as he paced next to the bed watching her. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his brow and he reached up and swept it away. "I need them now!"
"I have no broth, nor milk," I said, "I don't keep much in the house."
"In Durin's name why?!" he asked angrily still pacing.
"Don't have much need for it," I said.
"You have a need for it now!" he said. Which by the way is one of the reasons for writing, I hope you receive this post before nightfall. Please bring some food supplies in the utmost of secrecy if you can. It could be a matter of life and death. Meanwhile, back to the story. I went over to the barrel and filled a horn mug with ale.
"Drink this, Thorin. Take a deep breath, and tell me what's going on," I said as I handed him the mug. He took it and drank deep.
"I found her," he said catching his breath after his large gulp, "A couple of thugs were trying to have their way with her. I engaged them."
"So, they are dead now? Lovely," I said.
"I don't know." He said.
"I thought she was an archer, how did the thugs sneak up on her like that?" I asked filling a horn mug for myself. Thorin held out his freshly emptied and I refilled his as well.
"I do not think the thugs attacked her directly and subdued her." He said, "I think she might have feinted and they just found her on the street."
"Feinted?" I asked. "Feinted from what?"
"When I lifted her, even thru the fabric of her gown, I felt her ribs and hips. She seems too thin. I think she might be starving." He said. He set his empty again mug down on a shelf and continued to pace around.
"Would you just sit down already!" I said waving my mug toward him, "Durin! You'll wear out a groove in my bloody floor."
Thorin gave me a look, but said nothing and went to the table and sat down.
"Alright," I said calmly, "Now I know you fancy her…"
"I never said I fancied her," he said cutting me off mid-sentence, "It's more of a…I'm not really sure if I…I'm a noble, and a noble has to have sincere concern for the common people!"
He was getting angry, I knew that, but I near chuckled at his reactions. Sincere concern? Is that what they are calling it these days?
"I'm sorry, Thorin," I said, "What I meant to say, was that I understand you have a 'sincere concern' for her, but look at yourself! 'Had to save her.' 'She is starving.' She makes more money than a king. She can't be starving. You're going to go bat wing and pig shit mad if you keep this up."
"You look at her!" Thorin said pointing an angry finger at me. "Does she not look thin?"
I glanced at her quickly and then back at him, "Yes, she does look a bit thin."
"Alright then, so if she makes all this gold and silver, why would she want to stave herself?" he asked.
"Well, you said she lives in that poor house," I said.
"I still don't know that for sure. It could have been a different woman I saw coming from the poor house," he said and he sighed. He lowered his head and cradled his face in his hands. "It seems as if every time I get one step ahead of this woman she takes another path. The rug trips me beneath my feet and my thoughts are filled with more questions and darker mysteries. There is something far greater at work here…and I don't have the faintest idea what that may be. I only know one thing for sure."
"And what's that, pray tell?" I asked. He lifted his face looked over at her still motionless on the bed.
"I HAVE to help her. There is a pull from her that hooks me directly in the chest like she had chained herself to me, and I could not escape her if I wanted to."
There was something in his eyes, brother. Something far greater than any of us, and I knew he spoke truth. Poor bastard. He fancies her. I know it. He just doesn't want to admit it to himself, but you didn't hear that from me!
I sighed walking over to the side of the bed and looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her breaths were quick and rapid. I studied her for a moment.
"Her bodice is too tight." I said pointing.
Thorin's face reddened a few shades, "I may have noticed that as well."
"It's compressing her chest too much. She can't breathe properly." I said.
"Yes, Bofur," he said, "That is usually what it means when a bodice is too tight."
"So? A quick cut of a dagger will help that. I little cut and rip rip. She can breathe again." I said to him.
"I thought of that too…" he said and he looked away from her and down to the floor.
"Why didn't you?" I asked.
"I can't tell if she has a chemise or small clothes underneath or not. The fabric is too tight." he said with clear embarrassment in his voice.
My eyebrows rose. I looked back down at her and then back at him.
"Right," I said setting my ale down on the nearby table. A big o' grin came to my face, "I wouldn't want you taking such a risk to your honor, Oakenshield. If it needs to be done, I'll do it."
Seriously my dear brother, what male in their right mind wouldn't want to take that kind of…uh…risk.
I picked up a small dagger from a nearby shelf and took just one step forward towards Eevliina. Suddenly, I felt a great pressure on my shoulder. I glanced over to find Thorin's gaze, quite…agitated wouldn't be quite a strong enough word. His fingers tightened the grip on my shoulders to the point of breaking bones as he eased me to step away from the woman. I smiled at him and nodded.
"Right then," I said handing him the dagger, "I'll just step out for a pipe. Leave you to it."
"No, don't step outside. It's too conspicuous," he said as he gripped the dagger in his hand. "But if she does become…accidently exposed you better not sneak and peek."
"I promise, I won't peek," I said.
Of course I was going to peek.
He sighed and stared at her in deep thought for several minutes in silence. "I….I want to keep her here." He finally said
"That's what I was thinkin," I said, "Let her get some rest and a decent meal. She'll be right as rain in the morning."
"No," he said sternly, "Not in the morning."
I gave him a funny look and raised an eyebrow, "What exactly are you asking of me?" I asked.
"If we let her go, we will never see her again," he said, "She will flee Broomball and probably kill us in our sleep."
"You can't seriously be thinking about keeping her here against her will." I said. " Whatever mysteries and shadows that linger over this village will endure without answers," he said, "We need to figure this out. We need to keep her here."
"We?" I asked, "When did this project become a 'we'? This is completely a 'YOU' thing."
"What would you have me do?" he asked.
"Don't get involved!" I said, "Or at least if you plan on locking her up like a beast, then take her back to YOUR room at the tavern and don't get ME involved."
"If I recall," he began glaring at me, "You owe me your little 'toy shop' simply for the fact that I did 'get YOU involved.' Now I know that what I ask is not the most honorable, nor noble of tasks, and I know that I cannot force you….but please help me." He said and then his expression changed, "I must help her,"
His eyes did not lie. He was vulnerable. I sighed.
"Fine," I said, "WE will figure something out."
A small smile came to his face and he nodded. "Avert your eyes" he said sternly as he leaned over the bed with the tip of the dagger on the hem of her bodice.
