Sigrid returned to her room with a pitcher of warm water and a fresh towel. Fili sat up as she entered.
"Sorry, we can't all have bathing rooms," she grinned. "Here it's just a basin and a cloth." She poured half the contents of the pitcher into the basin on her wash stand, and sat down on the bed next to Fili. She looked at him and sighed. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.
"You worry too much about other people's opinions, love," he whispered. "Surely it's no-one's business but yours who you have in your bed."
"Yes, but it's Da's business what goes on under his roof, and you know as well as I do that if he'd been here last night…" She leaned her head on his. "But that sigh wasn't about that. That sigh was for me."
She drew back and looked into Fili's face again. One of her hands reached out to his hair, taking a lock between her fingers and smoothing it back from his face. Her beautiful blue-grey eyes were enigmatic, but Fili could see a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.
"If only you held your hand out to me, Fili of Erebor, I'd follow anywhere you led me," she murmured, slowly shaking her head from side to side. "And quite frankly, I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
His heart, which had swelled at the first part of her words, was thrown into confusion. "Beloved. How can it be a bad thing?"
She held up her thumb and index finger a small distance apart. "Fili, I was that close to saying yes to the kitchen table last night. Imagine if Da had come home."
He froze, speechless, absorbed in contemplation of the image she had just conjured in his mind.
"I think I'll go freshen up in Da's room. I know what will happen if I stay here." She blithely kissed him, rose and grabbed the pitcher, and headed to the doorway. She looked back at him with a smile from the door, then turned and closed it, leaving Fili still stunned, and wondering whether he'd be better off with ice water instead of warm in the wash basin.
The rain had cleared during the night, leaving the ground sodden and water streaming down the gutters. Riding out to the farmlets with Tilda would be a muddy and slippery proposition, Sigrid realised as she made her way to the stables, but their horses were sound and steady, and the conditions were not going to stop her from heading out. She found Fili there, brushing down his pony and preparing for his ride home. He smiled at Sigrid as she held the pony's bridle, rubbing her long face and scratching her forelock, while he saddled her and tightened the girth strap. When all was ready he turned and took Sigrid in his arms.
"I'll be back at four. Does that give you enough time?"
"Plenty." She looked earnestly into his face. "I should have sent word earlier – Fili, could you ask Tauriel and Dis to come and stand with me? I'd like Dis to stand in my mother's place, if she would."
The look that appeared in Fili's eyes at her request – a poignant mixture of tenderness, gratitude, pride and wonder – communicated his thoughts as eloquently as any words. "Ah, beloved. I'll ask them. You know they will come."
He took her face in his hands and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. "See you at four."
"I'll be here," she whispered. His thumb stroked the roundness of her cheek, back and forth, as he looked into her eyes, then he released her and mounted his pony. She watched him turn Mindy around, and he was about to head off when she called out to him.
"Fili, wait!"
She unbound her hair and felt under the nape of her neck to separate out one long slender lock. She twitched her fingers around and held it up to Fili.
He rode up beside her, reached down to his boot for a knife, and used it to gently but swiftly slice through the hair she was holding. He took it, kissed it, and placed it in one of the pockets of his coat.
"I almost forgot why I came," he grinned. "You have that effect on me, Sigrid mine."
He leaned down towards her, and she craned up, standing on the tips of her toes, for another kiss. Then he turned Mindy again with a grin, all fair hair and dimples and smiling eyes of the sunniest blue, and set off back to the Mountain.
The roads around Dale were indeed muddy, and in some places Sigrid and Tilda's horses splashed through water up to their fetlocks. They had headed northeast, fording the river about a mile downstream of the waterfalls, where it spread, wide and shallow, into chattering rivulets across a level bed of small rocks. The runoff from the rains had increased the depth and speed of the water rushing across the ford, and it swirled around their horses' legs as they crossed, but it wasn't deep enough to cause either the two sisters or their mounts any concern. The farmland in this area varied amongst grain crops, pastureland and patchworked market gardens, between areas laid waste by the dragon that were still to be rehabilitated, and it was to a family who had recently settled in the area with plans to establish an orchard that Tilda and Sigrid were headed.
They found the cosy farmer's cottage easily enough, and were received gladly by the family, a husband, wife and three daughters younger than Tilda. They were given a tour of the proposed orchard, and Sigrid nodded at the mentions of green manure crops, soil quality and drainage, understanding enough about the process in general terms, though the details eluded her. She did make note of Torben's request for assistance to dig out the planting holes in early spring, when he would be taking delivery of the dormant saplings. The family then invited the sisters to stay and lunch at their cottage, and they accepted with pleasure. The discussion turned to their immediate needs, which were well taken care of, already having a kitchen garden flourishing in the back yard and animals in the barn, which the small girls were eager to show them. After lunch the sisters left the family with a cheery farewell and assurances of the requested assistance, and set off for their next visit.
The other farmlet that Sigrid had intended to visit was not far away, and they talked as they splashed companionably through the muddy lanes.
"Think of it, Sigrid, plums, quinces, cherries!"
"It will take a couple of years for their trees to start bearing fruit, but yes, they do sound delicious." Sigrid's eyes drifted to the horizon. "I remember Mamma preserving quinces when I was small, before you were born, before we came to Laketown. The smell, I can't even describe it, Tilda. It's so good."
"Mmm, I can't wait to try some. I didn't get any of that information about the soil, though. I don't have to learn all that, do I?"
Sigrid laughed. "Not unless you want to. People are keen to share their interests, so they sometimes go into a lot of detail. If you want to know more about it, you can ask them questions. Otherwise, just nod politely. We can't be experts in everything."
Tilda nodded, her face thoughtful. "Yes, I saw you doing that. The main part was when Torben asked for help, wasn't it? To dig the holes, in the spring."
Once again, Tilda's perceptiveness impressed Sigrid. "That's right. It's not the sort of job he can do on his own. We have to let Da know about that, so he can organise people to help."
Tilda nodded again. "And who are we seeing next?"
"Arrild. You know he lost his wife at Laketown, I want to check how he's going. Look, that's his cottage up ahead."
Arrild, a pleasant, kindly man, still young, was pleased to see the two sisters, though Sigrid recognised the signs that he was still grieving in his sorrowful eyes and quiet demeanour. He was a dairy farmer, his two boys of eight and ten old enough to help, and the farm was clean and well-run, with plenty of food on the table. Sigrid, however, noticed the threadbare shirts and badly-patched breeches on the two boys, and suspected that Arrild could do with some assistance on the needlework side of things. Sharing a pot of tea at his kitchen table, she told him about the group that Britte had just taken over, volunteers who would sew new clothes for his boys if he would provide the materials, and the look of relief and gratitude on his face nearly brought tears to Sigrid's eyes. He had known they needed new things, and had not had the slightest idea of how to go about getting them, the situation compounded as yet another reminder of his loss, it being his wife who had been the one to take care of those sorts of things. Sigrid well understood his feelings of helplessness, so similar to the position she'd been in only weeks before, and encouraged him to come and chat with her or her father, or to seek out Jerrik, whenever he was finding things difficult. They left him after a pleasant hour, smiling and thankful, his arms around his boys. As they rode away, Sigrid reflected on how time and the right support could bring healing, even to the deepest grief. It was working for her, and she believed it would work for Arrild as well.
They returned the way they had come, considerably muddier but also happier, pleased with the help they'd been able to provide, especially to Arrild. At the ford, they walked their horses slowly through the rushing water side by side, and had just reached the opposite bank when someone stepped out unexpectedly in front of them, blocking their path.
They drew up their horses.
"Lady Sigrid. You'll not remember me."
Sigrid looked closely at the speaker for a moment. "Indeed, I do remember you." She recognised the dwarf who had approached her at the New Year's feast, the one Fili didn't know, who had said he wanted to talk to her but had then disappeared. "You were at the feast."
"You're a hard person to find, Lady Sigrid." One side of his mouth rose in a mirthless smile. "Hard to find alone, I mean."
Sigrid frowned, confused. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"
"Gorin. I need to speak with you, Lady Sigrid. Now, if you please."
The form of his words was polite, but his tone was almost menacing, and Sigrid shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. "Gorin. I'm more than happy to speak to you, but unfortunately now is not a good time. We need to be getting back. Why don't you come with us, Fili will be arriving any minute, and we can…"
"No." Gorin stepped forward and took hold of her horse's bridle. "You're not going back. You're staying here."
"What are you doing?" Sigrid was becoming genuinely scared. She gathered her reins and tried to turn her horse, but the dwarf's grip on the bridle was firm. "Let go of my horse."
"You're staying here. We're going to talk." There was a note of desperation in the dwarf's voice. Sigrid glanced at Tilda. Her face was ashen, and there was an unreadable expression on her face as she stared at the dwarf in front of them. Sigrid spared another quick glance back towards the Mountain, its waterfalls only a mile upriver, knowing that Fili would be on his way soon, if not on the road already. She looked back at her sister and caught her eye.
"Tilda, go!" Sigrid kicked her horse forward, and she held on as it pranced in front of Gorin, but he was strong, and did not let go of it. The distraction was enough however for Tilda to spur her horse around the dwarf, and she flew off up the road at a flat gallop.
"She'll be back any minute with help. Fili, my father, maybe even Thorin… Let me go. I'll tell them you didn't hurt me, and things will go better for you. Let me go."
The dwarf screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that." He opened his eyes, and there was a hopelessness in them as he stared up at Sigrid. She looked down, and saw his free hand slowly draw a small blade from a sheath at his side. He pointed it at her.
"Please get down from your horse, Lady Sigrid."