Chapter Twelve

Erebor was evacuating the mining families from the lower levels.

Fjalar, prince of Erebor, and his fellow cadet trainees, lads and lasses combined, found themselves assigned to a group of miner families from the silver hall, and now they were all laden with bags, trunks, carrycases, pots and pans, and of course, valuable tools. They were moving everything up fifteen stories, from the north side to the south.

"I'd rather climb the stairs up to the lookout," Mieth complained. He had a small trunk perched on one shoulder and two heavy bags over the other.

Fjalar winced. "Don't say that where anyone can hear you, dufus," he looked around to see if anyone had, then frowned at his friend. "They'd help your family if things were reversed." Fjalar had one large bag on his back, one in his arms, and a pair of pots that clanked when he walked.

Mieth looked guilty, ducked his head, then nodded.

"Where is your family?" Fjalar asked, suddenly wondering if they also lived in the lower levels.

"Forge level. It won't flood up there."

"That's good, then."

"Mine live on the gemcutters floor," one of the lasses piped up. "I keep asking, but no one seems to know where they've been sent." She looked worried as she carried the front end of a heavy trunk, another trainee lass had the back.

"Maybe we can ask when we get to where we're taking all this," Mieth offered.

Fjalar smiled at him. That was better.

"Where's your family?" Mieth asked him.

Fjalar wondered if he should answer. His uncle had pulled him aside two days ago and told him—his Dad, mom, brothers and sister were off to visit his grandparents in the Iron Hills. Pretty unfair, he thought, going without him. But his uncle had reminded him: the King and the heir can not leave Erebor at the same time.

Besides, his uncle had said with a grin. Can't have you missing weapons training.

No, indeed, Fjalar had agreed.

"The south-western side," he said, keeping it vague. "High enough not to worry." Not everyone knew where the royal family quarters were. He'd been cautioned to keep it that way.

Ahead of them, a granny with two children, one in her arms, shouted for help. Her older one was fussing and she couldn't keep hold of him.

And Erebor's open-air walkways had no railings.

One of the mining captains called out that he was on it, but Fjalar could see there wasn't time for the fellow to reach them. The lad stumbled and slid.

Right for the edge.

"Here," Fjalar said, shoving the large sack in his arms at Mieth. And he darted forward and went to his knees as the line of trudging people halted.

"Got you," Fjalar said, reaching hard for the young lad and grabbing his leg. He managed to swing him back up and get on his feet with the child in his arms.

And then he was face to face with a pair of very worried brown eyes. "You're as lucky as your Da, you are," Bofur smiled. "Good catch, there, Cadet." He held out an arm to take the child and winked at Fjalar.

Nÿr wore healer blue as she descended one of the main staircases through Erebor's hub. She was hurrying herself along, but more people were heading up the stairs than down.

She'd left Dwalin for the night, tucked into his bed with the old nurse Svi dozing in a chair in the room nearby.

He'd started his day well enough, but by evening, wasn't well. No appetite, testy, and without enough strength to walk out to the ledge and back without help.

Any benefit he'd gotten from the milkvetch doses was apparently gone.

And even more disturbing, the mass in his gut had hardened and grown in the last week. By itself it might not cause ill health, but healers knew that these things often resided inside an organ or at the very least, they inhibited or obstructed one.

Once optimistic about the amount of time Dwalin had left, Nÿr was starting to worry whether he would last another two weeks.

"Nÿr!"

She turned to see Kili catching up to her.

"Where you off to?" He caught her hand in his.

"Infirmary. Breech birth," she said. "The senior physician sent Svi up to sit with Dwalin…asked if I'd come. The infirmary's having a busy night."

Kili nodded. "I bet. Flooding in the lower mines. Spring erupted out of nowhere like a broken waterway. Miners, gear, stuff everywhere. What a time for a delivery, though." His brows drew together in concern.

"Well, you can't stop them, and they get overlooked in times like this. I hope I can help."

Kili looked her in the eye. "No one better. You all right getting there?" he scanned the crowd as if assessing her chances of making it across to the infirmary. "Lots of people on the move tonight." Oblivious to the prince in their midst, people were swarming around them, in fact.

"Of course." She leaned forward to give him one of those perfectly chaste public kisses. A peck on the cheek. "I'll see you later…"

"Yes," he said, returning the gesture with a kiss on her forehead and a squeeze of her hand. "I hope all goes well," he said, meaning the birth.

She nodded, and their hands parted as people stepped between them. When she reached the landing and looked back, she didn't see him. But no matter. She had a job to do—and Erebor's people mattered to her.

She managed a well-known shortcut and made it to the infirmary minutes later, surprised to see crowds in the hallways, including one quite rotund, red-faced lass with a very worried lad who were standing about number fifty in line. The lass held her round belly, panting with a look of resigned alarm and a sweaty sheen on her face.

"Mahal's mother!" Nÿr got an arm around the poor lass. "Come along, right now." She gestured for the lad to follow.

"She's not next in line," an oldster complained.

"She's about to give birth on your feet, sir," Nÿr stated firmly. "And I hardly think you'll want her bed in the delivery room."

The poor panting lass looked fearful, as if uncertain of moving ahead of the others.

"Come," Nÿr said, using an imperious tone Lady An had coached. For when you just need to get things moving along. Act the queen and they'll scatter. "I know everyone needs help, but we are not having a child born in the hallway." Most of them stepped aside quickly, but Nÿr stopped at the surly form of the oldster, blocking their way. "Move aside, if you please."

He looked ready to deliver a flaming retort when a stocky guard tapped his shoulder.

It was Fria, the lassie's cadet commander.

"Did you lose your hearing trumpet?" she demanded of the old fellow.

The oldster turned, affronted, his face reddening. Fria managed to lean forward into him, causing him to step back and inadvertently make way.

Nÿr rushed the laboring lass ahead, the young father just behind, murmuring her thanks.

Fria nodded and stood her ground. "That was the Lady Nÿr saying please to you, Lýthur." She said in their wake. She apparently knew the oldster. "Don't ask her for a Royal decree, either. She'd bring it."

"Come on, sweetheart," Nÿr coached the panting lass. "Just a little further… What's your name?"

The poor lass couldn't speak.

"Rúna," the lad said. "And I'm Wali."

"Nice to meet you, Rúna and Wali. I'm Nÿr…"

"Lady Nÿr," Rúna panted.

"The lady part doesn't really matter at the moment." She made it to a staff entry and whisked the pair inside.

"Nÿr, breech birth in the delivery hall…they need you," one of the trainees said as she passed.

"Yes! And this poor lass is about to have her baby the hallway." She turned to make eye contact with the trainee. "Get someone out there and pull any pregnant ones inside right now. All this excitement," she said, turning her lass down the final hall. "It brings on labour unexpectedly."

She swung the lass into the delivery room, already full.

"Another!" It was Birta, the head midwife. "Here, love." She held out an arm, making room.

"Birta, this is Rúna and Wali… Rúna, this is Birta…" Nÿr said, rushing to the scrubbing sink.

One of the trainees came forward to help her scrub. "The breech is bad," she murmured. "We can't get the little one turned."

Nÿr let the trainee help douse her hands in alcohol.

"Birta says you know the technique they use in the Blue Mountains…"

"Yes," Nÿr said. "Though it doesn't always work." She looked up worried, spotting her patient: an exhausted, older matron who couldn't even grip the assistant's hand. "But let's see what we have."

It was well into the early morning hours when the evacuation leaders reported that all of the mining families were resettled. Kili had heard the report of his nephew saving the errant lad on the walkway. He'd also heard fifty other stories of dwarves helping dwarves. It was their way.

He had just checked on Dwalin, seen that his intended was not yet home, and turned himself around.

Now he was striding into a packed infirmary, mostly quiet, and asking for Nÿr.

"I can take you," a trainee lad said, gesturing for Kili to follow.

The delivery room was in a side wing, to the back. The lad showed him to the open door, and Kili, having never been there before, suddenly stopped and questioned himself.

Mahal…should I be here? The only births he had any experience with had been Fili's children…and they had all been delivered in the family chambers. His job had been to keep Fili well away.

"It's quiet in there at the moment," the lad grinned. "And none of them will bite," he said. "At least not yet."

Kili nodded, then bravely stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was a gangly lad with a bundle in his arms and a wide-eyed, beaming expression. He reminded Kili sharply of a young Ori for some reason. An exhausted lass lay asleep on the bed behind him.

"Lad," the young dwarf said, holding the bundle up, shyly proud.

Kili couldn't help but smile. He peeked at the little face and touched the new father's arm. "Mahal's blessing, my friend," he murmured, hand on heart.

And then he saw Nÿr, holding a tiny bundle, her face tired but happy.

"Everything all right?" He turned to her.

"Yes, love. Another lad, of course. Gave his mother a hard time…but I think everyone's out of the woods. Such an angry little screamer until we made sure he got some feeding!" She smiled. "And I'm sure that's a pattern he will follow all his years."

Kili snorted. Nÿr handed the swaddled infant over to a night shift trainee.

"If you're done adding to our population," he said to her, holding his arm out. "I would be honored to escort you home."

She slid against him, and he settled his arm on her shoulder, feeling himself relax at her closeness. What a long day this had been.

"Lady Nÿr?" It was the first young lad with the new baby in his arms. Kili noticed he looked somewhat petrified, but was bravely stepping up.

"Oh, Wali…look at him!" Nÿr reached one hand out to brush fingertips on the little head.

"He's so perfect," Wali breathed. Then he looked at Nÿr rather earnestly.

"Please," he said, his voice shaking. "Can we invite you to the naming? I mean, you were so brave out there. If it weren't for you…I don't how it would have gone…we'd have never gotten in."

Nÿr was smiling at the lad. "He wasn't in danger, I don't think." Nÿr looked at the newborn. "But your new mum is sure better off in here than out there. That's what I say…" She looked back at Wali. "We'd be honored to attend the naming."

Fili was up and dressed for a busy day. Nama, An's former bodyguard, arrived at the same time as the breakfast trays.

"Girl's not anywhere, so far." She reported. "But I've got some old guard friends looking around…discreetly, of course."

An poured tea and offered hot rolls.

"The foster mother was Oda, a seamstress. Passed on about nine years back. The lass stayed with her foster brother for awhile, but my source in the sewing hall says he scared her off. Word was he started negotiating a match for her."

Fili nearly spit out his tea. "At her age?"

"A future arrangement, you understand."

Fili still felt horrified. "She's not old enough to make a Choice for another, what…60 years?" And for someone to try that with a Daughter of Durin. Dwalin's daughter…? Never mind that they didn't know it. It was the kind of idiocy that always made him want a sword in his hand and something to smash.

Nama nodded as if she understood and raised an eyebrow. "Girl wouldn't have it, though. Went to ground."

"What—she ran away?"

Nama held her hands out as if to say yes. "Trouble is, she could be anywhere. Could have relocated to one of the other settlements, even. Would be hard to do on her own—she'd need a lad to stand for her. You know, Stonehelm's got everyone leaning conservative about the roles of lads and lassies. Did you hear he's stopped the lassies' cadet training?"

Fili frowned.

"Put me out of a job, that edict did. Thinks we're all better suited for raising babies and homemaking now that the wars are over."

Fili made a face and shook his head. It was hard to imagine any Erebor warrior lass tolerating it. It would be hard to imagine defending Erebor without them.

"My seamstress friend thinks the child could be hiding among the laundry lasses or the kitchen help," Nama went on. "Someone could have taken her on as a domestic easily enough. We'll keep checking, with your approval." Nama inclined her head and stood to leave.

"Please," Fili said, offering hot rolls to take along.

Once she left he turned back to An, who had a very solemn look on her face. "Now I know why you always call him Dain's whelp or Stonehelm," she said, her disgust barely concealed.

Fili looked at her with a full Durin glower. "Because it galls me that someone gave that narrow-minded idiot my uncle's name?"

She nodded.

"Enjoy your day with your family, An," he said. "Because allies or not, as soon as we find that lass, we ride for home."

**Thanks for reading! As always, drop me a note if you feel inclined, even if you're new to the story. I genuinely appreciate the follows, likes, favorites, and reviews! Mahal's blessings...**