Verbena knocked on the door indicated by Lady Dís and waited. No answer. She wondered if it was the right room, for there was no marking on the door.

With a deep sense of impropriety, Bena opened the door and went inside. She didn't know what to expect from royal chambers, but it certainly was not a poorly lit and barely furnished room, not much different from the one she had on the guest wing, except for the desk full of papers and rolls of parchment. The desk was the only certainty that this was the right place.

But there was no one there.

Verbena looked around once again. Her eyes located a curved sword dirty with a dark liquid that dripped on the stone floor. Bena's stomach twirled as she realized the liquid was blood.

Alarms sounded off in her head. Perhaps the king had indeed gone to the infirmary. Perhaps his wounds were worse than Fíli described. She felt her stomach twirling at the perspective of King Thorin bleeding profusely.

Was that the right time to panic?

Bena was already turning to dash to the infirmary when a side door opened. A gush of steam came before the imposing figure of the king of Erebor strode in, shirtless, casually drying his broad shoulders, majestic hair cascading haphazardly. There was not as much grime as Fíli had, but he was far from clean.

He stopped upon watching Bena, whose eyes were riveted upon the king's chest. The girl had seen King Thorin without a shirt before, during his training. But she was much too far to notice that his chest was littered with scars: some small ones, others not so small. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how he had gotten all of them…

His deep voice brought her back to reality.

"Miss Verbena? Are you lost?"

She flushed, and thought to herself, that a single look from that man was enough to make her lose her composure. Trying not to waiver her voice (and it was hard), she explained, "No, Your Majesty, I… Er, Fíli told us you were hurt." She looked up, and saw dried blood mixed with some fresh blood oozing from somewhere in his head. "I thought you might need help."

He looked at her for a few seconds, and Bena couldn't read his eyes. Then he said, "This is just a scratch."

Cautiously, she insisted, "Anyway, it needs cleaning. Do you mind…?"

The king looked at her for a few seconds, with that strange expression in his eyes, and the girl feared she said the wrong thing.

Then he just nodded and Bena bustled about to grab some water in a basin and a clean cloth to wipe the blood. The dwarf took a large armchair, so the short hobbit girl could reach the spot. She began cleaning it, with the utmost care. King Thorin asked, "Have you treated battle wounds before?"

Bena answered, as she gently cleaned the ugly-looking bruise, "Well, not really wounds, and certainly never battle wounds. Back in the Shire, when some child skinned his knee or fell off a tree, they'd come to Uncle Bilbo — so their parents wouldn't find out about their mischiefs and pranks. I began to help Uncle, especially when my little cousins snatched fruits from old Farmer Maggot. Those four little rascals!... Sometimes Kíli and Fíli remind me of them."

The king smiled tiredly. Bena observed, "You should try to sleep a bit, Your Majesty."

He sighed, "I will, don't worry…"

After a second, she asked, "What happened, if I may ask? I mean, how did you get this wound?"

"A filthy orc came from behind to hit Fíli," he said. "I went to help, killed the aggressor, but another orc came from behind me, really fast. I jumped, but his mace still hit me. I went down and he was going to finish me, but Dwalin... intervened."

Bena tried not to show how her heart cringed at hearing the danger he faced, and at the same time she was terrified that he talked of it as if it were nothing. So she decided that silence was the best answer.

But it didn't last long, though. She felt caked blood into one of his side braids. She admired the double braid, wonderfully made sideways, its end held by a bead of silver with intricate designs.

"There is blood in your hair," she said.

"It's not mine," guaranteed the king. "I hope it's not Dwalin's either."

Bena asked, "May I undo your braid to clean it?"

He nodded, supporting his head on the back of the chair. Bena heard a deep sigh, and the king closed his azure eyes.

Silence enshrouded the room, disrupted only by Bena's movements and the water sounds. The girl unclasped the bead, tucked it in her pocket and began to undo the braid before washing off the blood. She often wondered how his hair would feel in his hands, if harsh like his beard or soft like her own hair. The answer was neither. It was silky, even with oily blood all over it. It was easy to undo it, and the smooth texture gave Bena goose bumps.

Things were happening really fast, Bena realized. She was cleaning the king, the object of her affections, and she had his permission to do so!... She had never been this close to him before. Except in the rampart, perhaps, but she tried not to dwell on that. And it was a good thing that her fear had been able to explain the racing of her heart on that occasion.

Now, though, the situation was completely different. Being so close to the king, Bena might have thought her heart would be fast. That was not the case, though. She touched his hair like a gentle caress. The chore actually calmed her, grounded her.

Bena reminded herself how well things turned out. The love of her life was there, in one piece, safe, unharmed, although tired and sporting a few bruises and some bloodied spots. Now it looked like he was starting to doze off, so it was a prime chance to Bena look at him and not be awkward about it.

But even though Bena was able to stare at her beloved to her heart's content, there was something in her stomach that kept her from feeling satisfaction in searching his handsome features. Maybe it was the shape of the angry wound in his forehead, maybe it was the color of the liquid in the bowl: brownish, filled with dirt and fear and war. She felt she was cleaning more than blood from him, but that was no comfort.

The Lady Dís was right: it was not easy to love a warrior.

Being so distracted, Bena let a few drops of water trickle down the king's naked chest. He shivered.

"Sorry," she cringed. "I'm so clumsy."

"It's nothing."

Bena resumed her task, trying to be more careful. The king should be cold, she thought. The night was gelid, and morning was yet to come.

Thanks to her diligence, no more water spilled and the king's hair was clean. At least, it was as clean as possible without actual bathing. Bena put down the bowl.

King Thorin shivered again. She asked, "Are you cold? Would you like me to send for more firewood?"

He grabbed her arm before she got up.

"No. Please... stay with me."

So she did, the king's hand still in her arm, his eyes closed as if in the verge of sleep. Although Bena tried not to concentrate in the man in front of her, it was hard not to think about him, given the fact that she was idle and a bit anxious.

His words haunted her: orcs coming from behind him. She could imagine the scenes of the battle, and it made her scared. What if Dwalin hadn't intervened, as he said? Or what if Dwalin was too late? Bena could almost see the king's lifeless body fallen on the ground, Fíli's desperation, blood everywhere...

The imagery in her mind was terrifying. Not only this. She began to realize how close she had been to never again see those beautiful, impossibly blue eyes. Or hear his deep, resounding voice, one that could vibrate inside her body to the point of weakening her knees.

Bena would have lost him.

She saw her features so serene in the faint firelight. Perhaps he was already asleep, she thought. There was the majestic nose that fascinated her, the eyebrows that dazzled her, his thin lips that enticed her so...

For a fleeting moment, Bena went mad. She must have, because she simply leaned towards him and pressed her lips against the king's.

Thorin's eyes flew open at the touch, but Bena didn't see that. She had her own eyes fiercely shut, so she wouldn't see the madness of her reckless actions.

It was heaven to feel his lips, so soft and warm. Bena flicked her tongue to taste them as well, a hint of metal and wood she would always associate to the dwarf sovereign of Erebor.

Bena focused on her sensations, and that was why they became so acute and intense to her. That was also the main reason Bena felt his hand grabbing her arm harder, and harder, until he was squeezing it, and Bena thought her bones might break.

In an impulse, Bena pulled away from him, shocked and wide-eyed. She saw the king's face, equally shocked, the azure eyes darkened.

Then she realized that King Thorin might be also horrified and disgusted, perhaps even scared of being under such an attack from someone he had never expected.

Bena whispered, so shocked she could hardly breathe, "I am sorry..."

She got free from his grasp and repeated, sincerely, "I am so, so sorry...!"

Then she summoned all breath she could muster, turned tail and fled. She ran away without looking back, without stopping, not even when the king called her name, not even when he asked her to stop.

Bena ran as fast as she could, ignoring the straggled revelers, still celebrating their victory over the orcs. She ran straight to her chambers and closed the door to her room. There she literally jumped in bed. It took her a long, long time before any kind of rest could take over her, because she had one question over her mind, one that haunted her endlessly.

What have I done?

0o0 o0o 0o0 o0o

For weeks following what Bena called "the most catastrophic accident of all the blunders in middle Earth" (at least in her mind, for she dared not tell a soul), she was a hard figure to catch. Her main concern was to avoid King Thorin at all costs.

She tried to hide in the library with Ori, and it worked for a while, then she went to the kitchens with Bombur. His cousin Bofur's good nature was a great respite to her weary spirit.

To her immense relief, there came no further invitations from the king to any social functions. Lobelia hardly noticed, now that her friendship with Kíli and Fíli was deepening. Uncle Bilbo, on the other hand, was getting concerned with Bena.

"What is going on with you, lass?" asked the older hobbit. "I hardly see you these days..."

Bena shrugged.

"I don't feel like seeing many people lately, Uncle. I guess I miss the Shire..."

"I am sorry, child, there is nothing I can do. Until the roads clear, we have to stay in Erebor."

"All right, Uncle."

"We can hope for an early spring."

"That's something nice to hope: an early spring."

"And then, maybe, I can hide forever and try to forget the most stupid thing I have ever done in my life", Bena thought bitterly.

It took many days for Bena to notice that she was not the only one making herself scarce. The grapevine in Erebor was busy with speculations about the king and his disappearing from the public. Not only did he disappear: he was stuck with his advisors in endless meetings and frantic correspondence. At first Bena thought it was mere gossip, but even Uncle Bilbo said King Thorin was too busy to see him. Balin was not of any help, either.

Oh, sweet Yavanna, was this consequence of Bena's reckless actions? Was King Thorin thinking twice about the courtship? Was he afraid of being molested by his fiancée's unhinged cousin?

Not only Bena started to feel even guiltier, but she began to feel agitated. The trepidation increased when Bilbo received a message from the Thain, asking how the courtship was going, and could they expect news of a wedding announcement soon.

Truth was, Bena was getting desperate. In fact, she was desperate enough to do another foolish thing.

So she did it.

"Bena?"

"Sorry to disturb you, milady. May I come in?"

The Lady Dís welcomed her to her rooms.

"Of course, my child. Please come."

Bena went inside and waited until the lady closed the door to say, "I am really sorry to come to you, but Uncle begins to get a little restless about Lobelia's courtship. The king won't call her anymore, and we wonder what he has in mind."

Dís sighed.

"You and me alike, I'm afraid. My brother has closed himself, and he has not confided in anyone."

"Couldn't you talk to him? Just to suggest a brief outing with Lobelia to silence the rumors."

"So you have heard the rumors."

"Well... I haven't heard the rumors, but I have heard about the rumors. Please, milady: you are a woman. You know what rumors can cause to a woman's reputation. I worry for Lobelia."

Dís asked, "Is she as worried as well?"

"I am afraid she is not as worried as she should," said Bena. "But if this situation endures, things can get worse."

"They can indeed."

"If the king loves Lobelia so much, can't you tell him about the damage to her reputation? Or her suffering with his indifference? Maybe he will respond if his beloved is involved."

Dís looked at her, assessing, "You really do love him, don't you?"

She blushed and shrugged, "I just want him to be happy. And if Lobelia makes him happy, I will fight for their love, because he deserves it. And I will be happy for them, too."

The lady shook her head, "If my brother only knew..."

Bena asked, "Please forget about me or my feelings, for they are not important. My situation is hopeless, but King Thorin has a chance of love and happiness. Don't let him waste such a precious gift from the gods."

Dís realized the girl was serious. So she said, "I will try to talk to my brother. And if that doesn't help, I'll ask for Balin's intervention. He always listens to Balin. I'll tell him Bilbo is concerned about it. Thorin respects your uncle a lot."

In an impulse, Bena hugged her, "Oh, thank you, thank you very much, milady! I dare hope this will open the king's eyes!"

Long story short: it did not open the king's eyes. Bilbo grew increasingly restless, to the point that even Lobelia was affected. As a matter of fact, the situation escalated as much as the gossips.

And then, one day, out of the blue, the king called Bilbo, Lobelia and Verbena to a meeting in the audience hall.

The girl panicked. She promptly figured the king would expose her and announce the end of the courtship, for he feared further molestation and harassment from crazy hobbit girl. Or perhaps he would berate her and decree her imprisonment, or worse: banishment from his kingdom forever, to never return.

In any scenario, the results were catastrophic for Bena. She would have to face her uncle's disappointment in front of the love of her life. Bilbo loved Thorin like a brother: it would break her uncle's heart.

If the engagement was dissolved, Lobelia would never forgive her. There were not that many chances for a hobbit to become royalty, which had been Lobelia's life-long dream.

Bena was totally despondent. That stupid kiss would hurt all the people she loved and strike down any chance of ever being happy. It had been such a spectacular blunder.

So, no, Bena was not looking forward to the meeting with King Thorin.

"This is it, then", thought Bena. "Now comes the time of my ruin."

NEXT: Showdown