Éiwyn honored Dís's request that she conduct herself as a guest during her first week in Thornost. She explored all through the great hall, never tiring of admiring the tapestries that hung there or the intricate carvings in the stone walls. As she grew more comfortable finding her way, she ranged farther afield in her walks and eventually discovered a thriving orchard which proved as good for wandering in as any sculptured rose garden.
She walked beside the outer wall of the great hall, her hand trailing along the cool stone slabs. Down the steps at the rear of the halls were the great kitchen gardens, and in the distance beyond them stood the orchard. She followed the little paths laid out between the vegetable beds, taking in the fresh green shoots that seemed to burst from the rich earth everywhere she looked.
She came across a woman kneeling in a row, thinning the tender lettuces planted there into a work basket. The woman looked up at her approach and quickly broke into a broad smile.
"Good morning," she said. "Might you possibly be the lady Éiwyn?"
Éiwyn nodded and the woman stood up. "I'm Fern." She bowed a curtsy, which Éiwyn returned. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."
Fern knelt back down in the garden but looked up and smiled again at Éiwyn. This was all the encouragement Éiwyn needed, so she knelt on the path opposite Fern.
"Can I help you at all?" It had been exactly a week, after all. Dís could not object to such an offer now.
Fern nodded. "If you like." She gestured down the long patch of lettuces. "I'm doing some thinning this morning and I wouldn't mind another pair of hands."
Éiwyn set to work pulling the thin lettuce shoots and setting them in Fern's basket. Fern looked to be some years older than Éiwyn, with dark, curly hair pulled back from her face and light eyes that watched Éiwyn with unabashed curiosity.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," Fern said as she worked. "I thought perhaps you'd still be resting in the great hall after your journey."
"I've rested a week and that seems more than enough for me," Éiwyn said. She watched as Fern carefully plucked out the smallest lettuces, and sought to make her own section appear just as tidy. "It's time I find a way to busy myself, beyond just getting lost in the lanes."
"Well, I'm glad to have you busy yourself with me. There's always something to do in the gardens, and the more hands, the lighter the work."
"Are you in the gardens every day?"
"Oh, nearly so." Fern moved her basket as she shifted a little farther along the row. "There's plenty of days where the weather's too grim to be out in it, but I'm here just about every other."
The repetition of pulling out green shoots served to relax Éiwyn's mind even more than her days of leisure had done. It felt good to have something to be about, even if it was simply helping another at her tasks. Too much of her last week had been spent pondering her situation, to agonizing effect.
"Well, bless me!"
Éiwyn looked up to see Bofur standing at the head of the lettuce row, hands on his hips in apparent astonishment. In all their travels, she had rarely seen him without the distinctive hat he wore, and then for only the briefest of glimpses. His hair had become a great mystery to her, as few others in the company wore hats at all, let alone with such dedication as he did. It turned out he wore his thick mass of dark hair set in four loose braids that somehow suited him spectacularly well.
"If it isn't my lady Éiwyn," he said, a wide grin on his face as he bowed low. His gaze moved past Éiwyn and he bowed again. "And Miss Fern, it's a pleasure to see you, too."
Fern smiled sweetly but continued on with her work. Éiwyn walked over to Bofur, brushing the dirt off her hands as she went.
"A nice day to be in the gardens," he said conversationally to Éiwyn. "If you ever have a question about things that grow, my lady, you can't go wrong following Miss Fern's advice. She can make anything thrive and blossom, no matter the weather or the plant."
"I'll remember that," she said.
Bofur remained smiling, his eyes on Fern, far longer than he seemed to realize.
"How have you been, Bofur?" Éiwyn inquired politely.
"Oh, me? I've been keeping myself busy however I can, my lady. I've been helping my brother out at the alehouse most days, but my evenings have been sadly lacking in company." His gaze returned to Fern, whose eyes darted up to his while her fingers flew among the lettuces. She flashed him a smile which set Bofur to grinning again.
"I didn't know you had a brother," Éiwyn said.
"Oh, sure, Bombur runs the alehouse, don't you know. He's not much of a fighter and he's not well suited to travels with the company." Bofur held his arms in a great circle about his waist. Then he laughed and scratched his chin whiskers. "Nor am I, I suppose, now it comes down to it. I'm more of a homebody, myself."
His gaze had returned to Fern, who did not look at him but smiled to herself while she worked. Éiwyn felt strangely unnecessary to the conversation but had no idea if she should excuse herself from it. Fern kept on plucking the crowded lettuce shoots while Bofur gazed in a happy stupor.
After another minute, Bofur shook himself. "I suppose I'd best be on my way, then."
"Did you need something, Bofur?" Éiwyn asked.
"Yes, of course, I surely did." Bofur glanced around as though unsure what that might have been. He snapped his fingers. "That's right, I was on my way to the herb garden. Bombur sent me after a few things and it slipped my mind. Funny, that. Good to see you again, my lady. Miss Fern."
Fern cast one last glance at Bofur before he turned and strode away. Éiwyn said nothing about the exchange, but she noticed that Fern smiled merrily all morning as they worked together. When she left for her noon meal, Éiwyn arranged to meet with Fern again the next day, as there were plenty of vegetables in need of thinning.
After a quick bite to eat, she set to work in the kitchens. She sidled up to the cooks, who for the most part were only too happy to dole out tasks. Éiwyn smiled merrily, herself, as she started kneading bread dough. She was feeling quite at home when Dís entered the kitchens.
Dís smiled and shook her head. "I might have known," she said. "One week to the day." She took a bowl of dough for herself and the two women kneaded the evening's bread side by side.
"What else have you got up to today?" Dís wanted to know. So Éiwyn told her of meeting Fern in the gardens and their efforts there that morning. Dís smiled warmly and said, "Welcome to Thornost, my dear."
#
Despite abstaining from work during her first week in the city, Éiwyn resumed her sword training with Fíli just after their arrival. They met privately in a large practice room full of straw dummies, targets, and weapons of all shapes, sizes, and makes. Fíli outfitted Éiwyn with light mail and gave her a dull practice sword for their sparring.
"It's quite small," she said, testing the weight of it.
"Yes, well, it is used to train children." Fíli coughed to cover his laughter, but Éiwyn was not deceived.
"At what age do children begin their training, then?"
"As soon as they can pick up a sword."
Fíli paid little mind to Éiwyn's open-mouthed stare as he found a practice sword appropriate for his purposes. He walked to the center of the room and motioned for her to follow.
"Ready?" he asked. Éiwyn nodded and they began to spar.
Fíli's skill in swordplay was matched by his patience as a teacher. He never grew irritable with her nor spoke out in anger, no matter how often she made the same mistakes or how quickly she tired. He was affable but kept her focused on the task at hand. He seemed to see their lessons as an enjoyable exercise for himself, as well as doing his duty by her.
As Éiwyn's hands and arms grew stronger, she was able to wield the sword better and for longer spans of time. Sparring was still difficult for her, as she could not yet predict Fíli's moves nor position her sword in time to parry his attacks. He tried to ease her frustrations with words of encouragement, but she knew herself to be a slow student.
Practice against the dummies, however, was rather more enjoyable. Fíli showed her a variety of strikes and thrusts which she put to good use against the burlap forms. She performed moves as he called them out, hacking at the dummy as best she could. Part of her knew it was poor sport to prefer fighting an opponent that couldn't fight back, but she enjoyed moving through the exercises all the same.
"You need more confidence when you attack." Fíli gestured for her to take a break from their sparring. "Put your whole heart in it."
"I am." Éiwyn rubbed her sore arms as proof. She sat down on a bench against the wall of the practice room, trying to catch her breath.
Fíli examined her with a critical eye as he seated himself next to her. "No, you're not. I can see that you're holding back. It's just practice, Éiwyn, you won't hurt me."
"I might," she said with as much hopefulness as she could muster.
"Hmm, you might, I'll concede that," he said, his mouth twitching into a grin. "Although I think it's unlikely when you won't fight with everything you have."
The sparring sessions were exhausting enough as they were. Éiwyn had no idea how she could fight any harder than she already did. She pursed her lips, distressed that all the might she had was apparently still too little.
"If you don't put everything in it, you won't have a chance against an enemy. They'll find your weakness." Fíli filled mugs of water and handed one to Éiwyn, which she took gratefully.
"What if my weakness is my weakness?" It was an attempt at levity, but Fíli answered her in earnest.
"You're not weak, you just need practice. Everyone does."
"I suppose what I mean is, I don't know if I could actually face an orc." Her voice was quiet as she spoke doubts she had carried since first picking up a sword on the road to the Ered Luin. She had consented to training as a last resort in case the worst were to occur, but she had little confidence in her courage if such a thing should truly happen.
"You don't know what you're capable of until you're in the moment, Éiwyn." Fíli drank deeply from his mug and sank back against the wall.
"What is it like?" she asked in a hushed voice. "In the moment?"
He glanced over at her and then looked away as though debating whether or not he should answer. He worked his jaw, seemingly deep in thought.
"Nothing really prepares you for it," he said, still not meeting her curious gaze. "That's why you don't know what you'll do until it comes. You train and practice and block yourself off to the fear until the first time you face an orc. Then the fear crashes over you, and that's the moment-you give in to the fear and turn back, or you run headlong into the fight."
Fíli turned to face her again. "I've never seen anyone give in to the fear."
Éiwyn tried to imagine herself running headlong towards something she feared, but she couldn't do it. All she could do was hope that she would find her courage when it was needed.
#
The first weeks after their arrival, Thorin was kept busy assessing his army and taking stock of the armory. Unknown previously to Éiwyn, his was not the only company from Thornost that regularly traveled the western lands, killing any orcs they found and destroying nests. Thorin had much to do in overseeing both his army and his city. Title or no, Thorin was looked to as the implicit ruler of Thornost. Widely revered for his valor in battle, his opinion was sought and followed in all manner of business.
As their days were busy, Thorin and Éiwyn often only saw each other at the evening meal. After the feast to welcome them home, suppers were simpler affairs. Generally it was just the family, but Balin or Dwalin sometimes joined them. Gaps in conversation were usually filled by Kíli's ready tongue, so Éiwyn and Thorin had scarcely had any opportunity for conversation at all.
Thorin normally escorted Éiwyn back to her room following supper. He would ask about her day or inquire after her comfort, but these talks were brief. Éiwyn found it awkward to linger in the corridors with him at night, and took her leave of him as soon as they reached her chamber door.
Her days fell into a pattern of working in the gardens in the cool of the morning with Fern, and helping out in the kitchens in the afternoons. Although she was not strictly toiling, her days were more wearying than she had been used to in Annúminas. Most evenings she would stroll through the orchard before retiring to the great hall to prepare herself for supper.
Éiwyn had just ventured into the orchard one afternoon when she saw Thorin apparently examining an apple tree. He turned to her and for a moment they stared at one another as of old. She could not help but laugh that they would meet there, of all places. Rather than make her escape as she had often done before, she approached Thorin and smiled shyly at him.
"I did not know you enjoyed the orchards, my lord."
"I was only waiting for you." His voice was rich and deep. "I have rarely been out here of my own accord."
His frankness caught her off guard. "Waiting for me?" She derived a strange sense of pleasure from this admission.
Thorin gestured into the orchards. "I thought we might walk for a while. It is a fine afternoon."
They strolled under the low canopy of fruit trees which were covered in pink and white flowers that filled the air with the heady aroma of apple blossoms. She imagined what a sight the orchard would be in autumn, dense with ripened fruit.
"I am afraid I have not had much time to spend with you since our arrival." Thorin walked with his hands clasped behind his back, glancing at her now and then. "I have been occupied, but I will reform."
"Truly, that's not necessary." Éiwyn's words were out of her mouth before she had thought them through. Thorin gave her a sly look from under one arched eyebrow. "Oh, no, that is not what I mean, of course," she stammered. "I know that you have much to do. I only meant to say that I have not been offended."
"Hmm," he grumbled in his chest. "I have much to amend, then, if my absence is not offensive to you."
Éiwyn's heart leaped inwardly at this response. He seemed playful, yet entirely sincere. His steel blue eyes gazed into hers and if she were not mistaken, she thought she saw unease there.
"How do you find your room?"
Éiwyn had to smile at his question. He had asked it of her more than once over the weeks, but she knew he was only trying to look after her well being.
"I like my room very well," she answered. "I could never grow tired of the view." She looked out upon the fields with fresh wonder each morning. Her view at Annúminas had included the great Lake Evéndim, which she had always considered lovely, but her heart had been won by the sprawling expanse of wildflowers that lay at Thornost's feet.
"I am glad to hear it." He gave her another sideways glance as though assessing her. "You are finding ways to keep yourself occupied, I imagine."
"Oh, yes," she laughed, "although I am not sure that everyone appreciates it." He gave her a quizzical look and she hurried to explain. "Lindy, in the kitchens, seems to dislike my help. I am not sure she trusts me."
"Perhaps she has heard of your disdain for rabbit stew." His mouth turned up in a mischievous smile.
"You are laughing at me?" She tried to give him a stern look but could not contain her own grin. "I have said not one word against rabbit stew. Anything she has heard must have come from you."
He smiled at her retort, but his face quickly fell again. They walked in silence a few moments before Thorin asked, "Are you happy here, Éiwyn?" His words bore only the tone of one inquiring after another, but she feared them as an accusation. Why did everything he might say or do make her heart race so?
"I am happy, my lord." Compelled to defend her declaration, Éiwyn rattled off a list of proofs. "It is more beautiful in the Ered Luin than I had ever imagined. I am glad to have found a friend in Dís. And, although I have never been a particularly good student, I am learning to use a sword from Fíli."
They continued walking side by side, not looking at one another for a time. Thorin must have been as aware as she was that he had not been included among her reasons for happiness in Thornost. She frowned, embarrassed by her comments, but what could she say? And yet, as they strolled together in silence, she began to regret her omission. Thorin was trying to be a friend to her and his ways with her were gentle. When she thought of all the times he had demonstrated his concern for her, Éiwyn knew she must remedy her careless words.
"I am happy here with you, my lord."
He watched her a moment, but she did not meet his eyes. "Do you say this of your own mind, or because you think I wish it?"
"Both, my lord." Her gaze was on one of the silver beads that bound his braids. So often had she examined the beads rather than meet his eyes, she knew the markings engraved there by heart.
Thorin sighed heavily and spoke as though with reluctance. "You are not bound to me, yet, Éiwyn. I will honor custom in our betrothal. If you should choose to be released, I will return you to Annúminas." She looked up at him in bewilderment. "You only need tell me."
She was surprised how much the thought of leaving Thornost wrenched at her heart. She looked on it as her home, though she had lived there but a few weeks. However, she knew this was not what he was asking her. Did she want to be released from their betrothal? She was yet in awe of him, but respect and admiration were beginning to give way to a timid sort of affection. She was not ready to be bound to him, but neither did she entirely wish to be parted from him.
"I'd like to stay," she said quietly.
Thorin crooked his index finger under her chin and gently lifted her face to meet his gaze. "I have seen you shout at one of my fiercest warriors, yet you speak so timidly to me? I have much to amend."