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Chapter 7
We traveled for some days before the terrain changed, and I smelled something foul and dank on the air. It smelled like an over-used latrine or a thousand babies having a go. Then again, it could just be that I was downwind from father and Lord Boron. But I was wrong. Otha told me that we were within stench of Mirkwood. I wondered why good smells dissipate quickly but a stink travels for miles. Any idea I had of the elves being a fair and pure race died on the spot. No nobility could live in a continual waft of decay. I no longer wondered why King Thranduil and his people didn't help the dwarves of Erebor. Maybe they couldn't extricate themselves from the sludge in time. I giggled a little at the thought. I imagined King Thanduil in all his blond glory wading through sewage to call his people to arms. That cheered me for a moment. Then my thoughts returned to my impending accident. It was hard for them not to. Each morning Otha and Kitra listened in and came back with a report. Each time they came back, I could breathe again. "Not today."
What's worse? Getting hurt or knowing you're going to get hurt? Huh, maybe the worst is knowing that someone wants to hurt you. I couldn't keep biting my nails to the quick while I waited until after they were done eavesdropping. No, I decided to take my ankle into my own hands. If anyone was to sprain it, it would be me.
"Where can we do this?" I asked my trusty maids with a confidence I certainly didn't feel. They were horrified, of course, but understood.
"There's a stand of trees coming up on the horizon," Otha said in a low voice. "Just behind is Erebor. I'm sure they'll try something there, so we need to be ready."
Kitra seconded. I couldn't hide my devastation at having to hurt myself to protect myself. Who should be in that position? Kitra and Otha murmured kind words, but they flicked away like pebbles kicked by our ponies' feet. Nothing they said could make up for what was coming. Soon enough we rode up the smudge.
"I see twisted tree roots," Kitra whispered. "I'm very sorry, my lady."
I dropped my head and took a deep breath.
"I'm ready."
Before Sky could reach me, Otha led me over the roots, and I stuck my boot under one and wrenched my ankle as hard as I could. Pain shot up my calf, and I screamed. Lord Boron came over immediately, but father lingered behind.
"What has happened, princess?" he asked with great, and I was sure, feigned concern.
He played the game well, pitching his voice at just the right tone and volume to play the warm and worried uncle figure, but I wasn't fooled. Voices have both overtones and undertones. Lord Boron had mastered the overtone, but I heard the calculation underneath. A blessing of blindness, and I honed it. I spent years learning how to read voices. I'm no expert, not at all, but he had spent too much time around father and had gotten lazy. Now Lord Vinn was a pleasure to listen to. His sincerity was true to the last bass note like a thick slice of toasted bread dripping with honey. I never tired of listening to him. He was my true uncle in spirit if not in blood. Lord Boron's voice was like old cooking oil in comparison. Besides, he smoked like a furnace, and his brand of pipe weed burned my nose.
I tried to pull my boot out from under the root, but it stuck, and I hissed with pain.
"Allow me," he said, and he waved Otha aside.
"Stupid maid!" he said sharply. "I should dismiss you for your carelessness!"
Not likely. They might need her "carelessness" for a few more accidents. She groveled appropriately and back away. I bit my tongue while he carefully pulled my boot from under the root. I could feel my ankle getting spongy and thick.
"May I?" he asked while tapping my boot.
"Aye," I replied while thinking up a number of more colorful responses.
He led me over to a rock and slowly pulled it off. I felt my ankle, which had swelled to the size of a large apple.
"Is it broken?" I asked as I winced. It really did hurt.
"No," he replied. Then he asked to carry me to my father whom I was sure was delighted. I nodded. He swung me up into his arms, and I stiffened.
"I won't hurt you," he said. Then he bent his head, and his lips brushed my ear. I tried not to flinch. "Clever girl," he whispered. "I won't tell."
I jerked, but he simply tightened his arms around me. What did he mean? I knew what I heard in his voice, but I was unsettled. Mother said not to trust him, and I believed her, so I kept silent. I was never good at intrigue. Deceit when necessary, of course. But intrigue scared me. It was like a rat trap. It attracted all sorts with promises of reward and then snapped their necks.
"What did you do now, Areen?" father asked impatiently. I knew he was pleased because he wasn't yelling. "Clumsy child!"
Lord Boron played peacemaker and tried to pacify him, all the while bouncing me slightly in his arms to get a better grasp. Guessing that he didn't usually carry much weight, I decided to make him pay in my own way. I moaned and shifted slightly to make him lurch to hang onto me. I heard his gasp of pain and grinned like a fool inside. If I was going to hurt, I wasn't going to do it alone. I hoped his back ached enough to keep him from sleeping. I knew I wasn't going to.
"Set her down, Boron," father said angrily. "We've things to discuss."
His minion tried to obey, but I didn't let go at first and instead yanked on his fat neck. It was my last chance to wrench his back, and I made the most of it. I was happy to hear a small pop.
"Yes, father," I said meekly. I could hear Lord Boron grunting as he hobbled to his seat. I thought that was only proper. He wouldn't tell on me, and I wouldn't tell on me—a perfect arrangement.
"Areen," he said sternly, "handling the Durins will take great skill. If they think us weak, they'll think they have the power to bend us to their will. I won't stand for that. Therefore, you need to act normal."
There was that horrid word again. 'Why can't you act normal?" "Why aren't you normal?" "You'll never be normal!" Of course, not being normal, how could I ever be exceptional? I was doomed to forever be a burden. Another hateful word. But I didn't have time to think about it more, and I bit my lip. I knew what was coming but, like before, it didn't make it any easier.
"And if I can't fool them, father?" I had to force that last out. He hardly deserved the term.
I could almost hear the leer. I imagined his face pulling up so that his lips reached his eyes, his wet gums gleaming.
"Sky and Summer will pay for it with their lives … so I know you'll be convincing."
Then, strangely, Lord Boron stopped him.
"I'm sure such measures aren't needed," he said slowly. "Areen will not fail us. She's smarter than you think."
I'm sure he was talking to me, not father, but I didn't understand why. It was one of those nudge, nudge, wink, wink things that I never got. I can read voices, but I'm not so good with intentions. You need to see facial expressions, body language, and all the other little essentials that make a complete picture. There I was literally and figuratively in the dark, and it made me nervous. I was sure they were having an easier time of it at Erebor.
"I don't see why I can't stay the way I am, Fili," Kili said sullenly. "Uncle isn't married, and no one bothers him. If he's so eager, why doesn't he marry her?"
Fili fingered the black tunic, green velvet jerkin, and black breeches laid out on Kili's bed.
"So they're ready," Fili said impressed. "Very nice."
He glanced over at his brother's dark expression and sighed. Ever since he married Della and had little Frerin, Kili had been aimless and depressed. He missed his brother's company and resented Della's insistence that Fili spend more time at home when his duties were done. No more exploring the slopes or jaunts to Dale. Of course, Kili loved his little nephew. The dwarfling practically lived on his shoulders, but his merry spirit was gone, and Thorin worried about him.
"He's not himself, Balin," Thorin had said almost a year ago while they watched Kili plod listlessly by. He carried out his responsibilities faithfully and well. No one could find fault him there, but his spark was gone. He turned to his faithful friend for his opinion.
"Perhaps finding a wife for himself might put the snap back in his step," Balin wondered. "He's a social lad unlike you, Thorin. He needs company."
The King of Erebor looked down at him in dismay, but he couldn't deny his words. He did enjoy his solitude and felt no need for more company than himself on most occasions. When he did want others around, his best friends and kin were all he required. Then he could return his chambers, enjoy a full glass of red wine, and look over reports and contracts. He might even sneak in some pages of a good book on dwarven history or battle strategies.
"Mmm, perhaps," he replied stroking his beard. Then his eyes lit with a spark. "Bring the princess of the Grey Mountains."
Balin looked skeptical.
"I hardly think she suits," he said doubtfully. "That's a small and insignificant clan. She hardly deserves the title. I think other, more established clans would have better candidates."
"No," Thorin replied, "she's the one."
Balin shook his head.
"I think we should try the other clans first. If he doesn't find one among them, then we can send for her. We're working out a contract with them anyhow and will require the lord's presence. He can bring his daughter then."
Thorin cocked his head to the side with two fingers against his lips as he considered Balin's words. Then he waved his hand.
"I'll agree to the others coming if you make certain she accompanies her father. I will leave the choice to the lad for the time being."
Then he leaned in.
"But if he doesn't pick one, I'll make my own choice."
Balin chortled.
"That means you need to entertain," he said slyly. "I seem to recall how much you hate it."
Thorin chewed his bottom lip.
"I would go to the Halls of Mandos and back for him, so I can put up with this."
So in short order, invitations went out from Erebor to strengthen ties with the other major dwarven settlements. One and all were delighted to come. Families came hoping to be associated with Erebor for greater reasons than distant kinship and trade. Kili was cheered for a time, but after the first few visits, he seemed to retreat even further into himself. The only joy Thorin saw was at the feast when he sat next to his brother.
"This isn't working," Thorin said to Balin and Dwalin after they watched Kili talk politely and then stifle a yawn. "There's no one who interests him. I knew this would happen."
"Well," Balin replied, conceding his case, "It seems you were right. Perhaps the problem is that they're all proper lasses concerned with doing the right thing and making a good impression. He needs someone like Fili, someone who's fun and adventurous. As you said, perhaps a lass from one of the outer settlements would be a little less proper and more interesting. He does need someone who can match his spirit."
Thorin nodded with satisfaction. The princess of the Grey Mountains was far from court affairs or the rigid customs that seemed to strangle the life out of dwarrowdams. The colony there was fairly new, and reports from merchants on the dwarves who lived there were most interesting indeed. Thorin had been very entertained by some of their stories.
"Aye, so send for the princess of the Grey Mountains," Thorin said, pleased to have come to a good decision—at least in his mind.
Dwalin scratched his beard and looked down at his brother. The two raised their brows and shared a knowing look.
"As what?" Balin asked.
"As his intended, of course. If the lad can't choose for himself, then I will choose for him."
After another moment of silence, Dwalin decided to take a turn.
"He'll resent it, Thorin," he said. "No dwarrow wants such a decision made for him. He'll hate her before she ever steps foot in Erebor."
So in the next chapter we'll see what happens! Please review!
