"I suggest you give up on the idea of empty decorum, honourable healer. Mahal knows how long this visit of yours will last, and we have matters to discuss. So forgive my lack of manners, and do enunciate." She could not believe it! Not only he had not softened his tone, he was practically snarling at her.
"I have nothing to enunciate, my lord," she sneered through her teeth. "I have not achieved any success in the task you have bestowed me with." The glare of his cold eyes became even more hostile, and she clenched her fists. "I was not given a chance to meet Lord Balin, since as you have correctly observed in our first meeting, I am nothing but a scrap of a girl. They did not let me into the Erebor any further than the visitors chamber. And none of my letters were answered." She was watching him and could see he was trying to reign his temper as he should have from the start. She had no fault at her, and she had tried!
"What other steps have you taken, honourable healer? How long has it been?" It still felt like an interrogation, and she asked herself why she had even opened the door to this hall. Next time, she promised herself, she would not subject herself to this humiliation, she would only come in if she had anything useful to tell him.
"It has been over a moon, and I have spoken to King Bard..."
"What?!" His enraged growl made her stop in her tracks. "The bargeman?!" Anger and disdain danced in his eyes, his lips twisted in a derisive mocking grimace, and Wren had reached the limit of her patience.
"It is my King you are talking about. I am of Men of Dale and he is my liege! And the only decent man I have encountered so far in this cursed quest for your sake!" It was not true, she immediately thought, the two Dwarves in the inn were willing to help her, but the humiliation she had endured in Erebor was still fresh and painful.
"He is the last man you were to go to!" The King jumped on his feet and made two steps towards her. Though no taller than her he was intimidating, even knowing he was just a dream, she felt how much danger resided in him. "You were told to find Balin!.."
"You are not to tell me what to do! You are nothing but my nightmare!" She yelled back, and he winced away. She felt suffocated in this hall all of a sudden, and it felt so little like a dream and so much reminded of her childhood, being locked up in a cold room and deprived of any freedom, that she felt hysterics rising. "I had a peaceful life! I served, I had my room, for the first time in my life I found a place I belonged. I should be looking for a husband and not running around or sitting in libraries all night trying to uncover why you just would not die!" She saw she was wounding him, he was growing paler, his jaw clenched, but she did not care.
She felt terrified, her life was escaping her control, and just like in her parents' house she had no power over it. She had always made all her decisions herself since she had run away when she was thirteen, she travelled, she came and went when she felt it was time. She now felt Dale was the place to stay, and although she was hiding the thought even from herself, meeting King Bard reminded her she was after all a woman. She always knew passionate and tender romance was hardly in the books for her. She was unattractive, odd, and she knew herself her character was not among those that men found agreeable. She was wilful, stubborn and although it took a while she could be shaken out of her collectedness, and then an outburst would follow. Just like at the moment she was screaming at a ghost, her chest heaving and eyes narrowed.
On the other hand, surely there could be a reasonable man who would offer her a quiet home. Wren only wished one thing in her life, a child. She could cook, she had a respectable vocation, and her behaviour was not of wanton nature. A mature and serious widower would be a perfect match for her, she would be happy if he already had children as well. She was in no hurry, of course, it was not like her youthful beauty was withering. If she were honest with herself, she only mentioned a husband now as a figure of speech.
She assumed he would now remind her how trivial her claims were in comparison with his grievances, and how he had not chosen to visit her dreams, as opposed to some Dwarven healer who could do so much more for him, she was prepared for another outburst of his fury. She was not prepared for what followed. He swayed, closing his eyes in exhaustion, his noble face wan, and he had to place his hand on the back of the nearest chair to stay upright. She did not allow the same pity and compassion as before rise in her. She glanced at him and saw that his face remained arrogant, and he glared at her imperiously.
"You do not have much choice, honourable healer. Your quest for a good husband will have to be postponed." His voice was now weaker, she could almost hear a tremble in it, but the tone remained unpleasant, "You have been chosen to..."
"I was not chosen, it is clearly a mistake!" Her hands flew up in her common energetic gesture. "I am the least fitting person for this!"
"Stop interrupting me!" He bellowed and pushed away from the chair. He made a step to her, she shied away, and then the chair he apparently toppled fell on the stone floor with deafening rumble. They both looked down at it.
"You broke it..." Her voice was quiet and disbelieving, the midrail cracked and the spindles were now askew. "Do you have a habit of breaking furniture when you are displeased, my lord?"
He looked at her, looking suddenly almost embarrassed, and wiped his face with his large palm. "You bring out the worst in me, honourable healer. And I have never been in a situation that… I have never met a creature this infuriating before." She could not hold back a quizzical chuckle, he was putting the blame on her! And of course, she could never restrain her witticisms.
"Then you have not known that many women." It was his turn to look at her incredulously.
"That was hardly among my priorities, my lady. And I am afraid it is too late for it now." She was gawking at him while he bent down, picked up the chair and then invited her to sit on another one in front of him. She felt rebellious. Even now with his features softened and his tone milder, he was still irking her. She had tried, and though she could not say any grievances had befallen her for his sake she felt he could have been a bit more grateful.
"Just as you said, my lord, we do not know how long this encounter will last. I am just informing you that I have another meeting with King Bard tomorrow, and I am hoping to find out more about… about circumstances surrounding your funeral." His lips twitched at her words. "And he promised to write to Erebor for me. Perhaps, Lord Balin or someone else will be willing to meet with me."
"What did you tell him? Did you tell him of these dreams?"
"Of course not. He would think me mad. I said I was interested in Dwarven medicinal practices. I am a surgeon, it is hardly a lie." She jerked her chin up and was prepared to rebuke him if he dared mocking her, but he remained quiet studying her face. He had very astute eyes, piercing, and she felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
"I will be frank with you, honourable healer, I do not think it is the circumstances of my funeral, or my death for that matter that are to be inspected, it is my life. There must be an unpaid debt that has to be returned. You need to speak with Balin." He looked exhausted, thinned now, and she wondered whether she was imagining the changes from her previous encounter or he indeed was less corporeal now. "I assume I died with honour, I am probably buried under the Mountain..."
"In a tomb of white stone…" She added quietly, and he nodded.
"Where is my sword?" Something in his tone reminded her he was once a man of flesh, and she suppressed a smile. Men and their blades…
"It is placed on your tomb, to act as a beacon in case any danger is approaching Erebor." She saw a glimpse of warmth in his eyes, and the hand on the table twitch, probably remembering the hilt.
"And the Arkenstone? Has it been returned to Dain?"
"It is buried with you. King Thranduil placed it on your chest." He looked at her in surprise.
"The Elf gave it up? What did he ask in return?"
"I know little about it, my lord, I only know the destiny of the stone from the books in the library. A Dwarf named Ori described it in a scroll."
"Ori..." A small smile grazed the King's lips, and Wren once again felt amazed by how the smallest of smiles could change his face. "So he lived."
"They all did. All your company." The smile was gone, and his face grew dark again.
"Not all of them, not my sister-sons..." They were silent for a few instants, and then he shook his head slightly.
He stood his back to her, his hands placed on the table, and then he turned, and she met his blazing blue eyes. Her breath caught, from the open pain splashing in them, and she even thought she saw tears glistening in them.
"Help me, Wren..." His lips wrapped around her name for the first time, and a shock ran through her body. "You are the only one who is here. I know you think it mistake, but there must be design behind it. Help me..." He stretched his hand to her, and she placed her fingers on his palm. They held each other's gaze, and then she gasped and opened her eyes.
Ra adjini tada zasaziliki e... / I'll hope you'll remember me…