**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to the US readers...and apologies for the slow posting. This chapter has three new middle scenes that we (me and the beta team) worked on quite a bit (while working full time, presenting twice at a conference in So Cal, and taking the hubby off for a lovely anniversary trip!) I drafted what I felt needed to be added in order to "fix" in my mind what was the too-sudden resolution to a long-awaited romance, and the beta's reviewed and said Yes or Hmmm. LOL. They did send me back to the drawing board for tweaks several times ;D It's still far from perfect, but I invite you to read along and let me know what you think...special thanks to Jessie152 and Tallboy for the inter-continental teamwork...and Nenithiel for the moral support!
Mahal's Blessings, Summer.**
Chapter Thirteen
"All this will become clear," Fili stated firmly to the crowd of onlookers as he strode from the western terrace. "If you'll join me in the King's Hall." He didn't wait to see who came along, however. He simply took off, following the path of the raucous birds he had loosed inside the mountain.
Predictably, a flurry of angry ravens inside Erebor resulted in an eruption of screams, hysterics, complaints, and demands from the dwarves inside. People ran, sought shelter under stone tables, and took cover against walls as swarms of swift birds screeched past.
But Fili didn't let any of this stop him. He continued through the halls at a brisk pace, a small crowd of overwrought visitors trailing behind.
Inside, the ravens were hard at work. They swooped through the main cavern in a black cloud, then split into speedy squadrons, veering off into smaller halls, flying through every room in the mountain—from guest chambers to kitchens to the infirmary. Anyone who tried stopping one quickly learned that the ensuing uproar attracted teams of Erebor dwarves in full battle gear, pre-staged for quick response throughout the city.
"No interference with the ravens," the soldiers commanded. Most of the birds would simply fly in and then out of a chamber or room, but when the birds congregated and set up a loud cacophony, armed warriors responded and without preamble, cornered the residents and searched the indicated rooms with a vigor.
Fili entered the King's Hall trailing an angry rabble, but strode confidently to where seven trusted dwarves stood in a semicircle at the throne.
With his five advisors stood old Bofur and his rotund brother Bombur, and they had a rough miner's box full of rock and powder sitting on a stone plinth.
Inside the semi-circle, lying in state with honor: the body of a fallen dwarf warrior. To the side sat a grief stricken widow and two glowering sons, both well into adulthood. The sight of this turned the rabble silent and they milled about, whispering; some removed caps in respect.
Fili mounted the steps to his throne, throwing his cloak off his shoulder as he turned, revealing the mithril mail of the King of Erebor. His face and his stance, had he known it, were so like a younger, blonder version of Thorin Oakenshield that several of the old timers stood a little taller.
"Your patience, my friends," he stated, his voice filling the hall. "While the Royal Guard conducts a search of the mountain."
"For what?" an ill-mannered visitor shouted out.
Dwalin stepped forward to stand near the open casket of the fallen dwarf. "The persons," he growled. "Responsible for the murder of a royal guard and acts of sabotage against the Mountain itself."
The calls of far off ravens raising an alarm echoed through the halls into the throne room.
Moments later, a single glossy raven shot through the great doors and flew straight to the throne, circling it at full cry.
Most dwarves couldn't understand the birds, but anyone with a drop of Durin's blood certainly could—so Fili, along with Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori turned to listen intently.
"The powder! We find the powder!" it kept repeating.
"Like this powder?" Dwalin demanded, pointing his staff toward the box of rock debris that Bofur had brought.
The raven swooped low to land on the box edge, eyeing the evidence in the box, pecking at it once, and then bobbing up and down. Even those without the blood of Durin in their veins could interpret the raven's answer.
"We collected this sample last night from the site of the last rockfall near the western terrace," Bofur explained in a loud voice so all could hear. "The rockfall that killed our honored fallen, the veteran Hoskel." He took off his hat and nodded in respect at the dwarf lying in state. "The ruddy stuff mixed in with this rock is residue from red-dust blasting powder. A very particular kind of blasting powder not in use inside Erebor's mines because it's dangerous and unpredictable. It comes from only one source, and that's quite far away from here."
"It's banned inside our kingdom," Gloin spoke up. "In fact, until recently, this powder was used only by the legions of Mordor. We were told," he glowered at the crowd, "that production had stopped and stockpiles destroyed."
"The ravens," Dwalin stepped up to stand beside his cousin. "Are showing us who among the current residents of Erebor have red-dust in their possession."
Several of the milling crowd stepped back, as if to distance themselves from any association with saboteurs.
At the throne, King Fili raised a hand and the raven launched itself toward him, landing on the back of the great throne and then hopping to the King's hand. Fili spoke briefly to the bird, then sent it off on some new errand.
"In the meantime," Gloin stated in a loud voice. "We wait for the Erebor Guard to bring forth the accused." He folded his arms and rested them on top of his short staff, clearly willing to stay awhile.
Kili opened one eye, feeling bleary and confused. Spiders... He always remembered the Mirkwood spiders when he felt like this. Webbing! He struggled to free his arms, then realized he was in his bed...his own bed in his brother's suite inside Erebor.
Not webbing. Just sheets. Too hot for sheets… Since he'd apparently shed the robe they'd given him, he would kick the sheets off as well.
In a moment. Curiously, he couldn't quite find the will to kick. If I just lay here, he tried to tell himself, but he quickly lost the thread of his thoughts and the awareness of where he was.
Webbing… He and his brother-spider-drugged and caught in webbing. So hard to wake up...need a sword...cut the webs…
The echo of someone else's voice. Where's Bilbo?
A chair scooted, a sound clear as day. Kili blinked his vision into focus and once again recognized his own room inside Erebor. Someone tended the fire.
She turned to look at him, perfect green eyes clear and round and so full of concern.
The healer lass. Like no lass he'd ever met before. Honor...willing heart… Duty to their people.
And beautiful. The way she moved...and so serious. But he'd made her smile...he remembered that. And her plump lower lip...so distracting.
And what had he done? His brain blanked. Then came the unspoken knowledge of exactly what he'd done. It was a good thing he was too fevered to groan aloud.
Mahal…this lass in his arms. So perfect...and so impossible.
He'd been so hopeful that the morgul fever would be gone, that a real friendship with a real lass was completely reasonable. He'd even let himself think she could Choose him. Ass, he berated himself. The fever was quite obviously not gone… Morgul wounded. Cursed. No one could love that.
Didn't it make him a completely unacceptable lad for a promising young lass like this one?
Might as well take a knife to the heart.
He closed his eyes. It just can't be. She must forget me, he told himself. The thought hurt more than the scar from that Morgul shaft. He'd never met a lass quite like her.
But she wouldn't deserve this, some inner voices whispered to his muddled brain. Tainted. Infected. Foul… He wasn't worth her time.
And if she remained, she would understand this all too soon. The fever would rise, he would be unable to keep from screaming...and he would hear even more voices, more agonizing ones, ...darkness is coming...the value of your life, scum, is worth nothing...
The lass must go, he decided, his thoughts swirling in a haze of fever. Forget we ever met. Be reassigned to duty far away...sent back to Ered Luin or Dale...
He would have to forget her, too…somehow.
Kili desperately tried to steel his will. I must be no more to her than another lad lost in battle.
Nÿr welcomed the chance for a bath. The Lady An (the Queen!) had returned to tend her husband's brother and sent her off with a green-shirted matron who clucked at the mud on her uniform.
"A hot bath and set of clean things," the matron said, leading her down the hall. "In here, lass."
If Nÿr doubted she was inside the quarters of Erebor's royal family, she didn't doubt it now. A chamber of clean, polished stone with plush carpets and a sunken, steaming bath large enough for…two.
Kili... Nÿr stared at the steaming bath, remembering the touch of his hands sliding from her shoulders down her back. She imagined the gentle sound of water splashing against bare skin and the contours of his muscles under her hands, accompanied by heavy breaths. And in the air, a haze of sage mingled with the memory of Kili's musky scent…
''Come now—out of those work clothes." The matron ushered her in.
Nÿr was startled, returning slowly to the here and now.
"Our Lady sent word to the Master Physician that you're temporarily reassigned," the matron said, pointing to a neat bundle on a wooden bench. "And they've sent fresh things for you."
My house boots...and a clean uniform! Nÿr blinked at the royal efficiency. "Thank you…" she managed to say.
The matron smiled. "Give yourself a good soak, lassie," she said with sympathy. "Leave your grubbies there," she pointed to a basket. "We'll have them laundered and returned." With a nod and a pat on Nÿr's arm, she backed out of the opulent room and closed the door, leaving Nÿr to stare at the cushioned bench, the blue crystalline flecks in the rich, green stone, and the carved tiles bearing the King's sigil.
For a moment she stood in shock. She just could not imagine soiling the spotless floor with her filthy gear.
Well, quickly now, she chided herself. And having just completed a ten week trip across half of Middle Earth, she understood the blessing of a good hot bath and indeed, suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink herself into that absolutely lovely steaming water…
She quickly shucked her dirt-stained gear and dropped the work clothes into the laundry basket. Grabbing two towels (Mahal, there had to be twenty stacked neatly on the shelf,) she took herself directly to the bath and dipped a toe.
Nÿr had no words for the instant bliss and was in up to her neck in no time.
She felt the tension release in her whole body, let her head fall back, and breathed out with a gentle, "Ooooo…"
She brought two handfuls of warm water up to her face, let it flow away, and then quickly undid the long braid and shook it out. She plunged underwater, let her hair float free, and then surfaced next to the little ledge with the soaps.
With a healer's efficiency about such things, she washed her hair, rinsed, and then finally leaned against the side to let herself rest a moment. A bath in the royal quarters…! She'd never imagined such a thing.
She took a deep breath of the steamy air, full of the scent of sage oil…but no waft of Kili. Yet the memory of his warmth and touch was fresh in her mind...falling asleep, nestled against his strong shoulder... She closed her eyes as if back in that snow cave with him...he was singularly handsome and powerfully built...with humor in his eyes and a way of smiling with such charming, self-deprecating good nature...
And then she opened her eyes to the reality of being alone in a bathing room larger than the trainee dorm. After a moment, she found a cloth and soap and went to work on the rest of herself.
But as she did it, she sobered. Kili had kissed her ear, just in this spot. Mahal, and not only her ear! Once more she could almost feel his strong hand curving around her hip...and the way she'd felt with him, without thought, and so intense…
She stopped. It was one night...caught in a snowstorm.
Blissful, yes. Realistic, no.
She looked at the thick cloth in her hand. This kind of thing...it's not for the likes of me, she realized. She was not a high-born lass, not the kind who primped herself for hours—she actually had little care for her clothes and hair. She preferred her simple work uniform and her healer's braid and, in fact, couldn't imagine twisting her hair into anything different or wearing some cascade of ruffles…
I don't belong here...not me, not with my past, she feared, looking around the sumptuous room. This was Kili's world, not hers. She'd been raised in the most disreputable kind of pub in the roughest part of Dale.
She stopped herself there. She'd left that life and risen above the mistakes of a rebellious orphan to find self-worth in her work and her service.
But Kili was a Prince of Erebor. The King's brother… Her stomach went hollow. Mahal. What was I thinking?
Well, she hadn't been thinking. She covered her face with her hands, her jumbled thoughts persuading her to imagine more and more doubts. Erebor healers prided themselves in their ethics, and letting herself become involved in matters of the heart while on duty was not accepted. She was making the mistake with the Dale man all over again...the rumor mill would be unforgiving. She closed her eyes tight then, as if she could hold back the tears...but she couldn't. They came.
Where did this lead? Where could this possibly lead? She had no doubt that a lowly lass like herself was out of the question even for friendship with a prince. And with her history? Lasses matched with Princes were supposed to be pure of heart and body…
That left what? Bed sport on the side? Quick liaisons like a chambermaid used for convenience? In an angry gesture she dashed a tear from her cheek.
No.
And then fear in the pit of her stomach. If the Master Physician ever found out...Mahal. He'd send her packing.
She plunged herself under water one more time and came up, jaw set. Healers trained to be objective and not let themselves be self-absorbed with feelings like this. It is your duty, she reminded herself.
She would have to correct her ways...all her training and her future as a full physician was at stake here, after all. She had to view Kili as a patient now, nothing more. She would tend him according to his brother's wishes and then return to her proper place in the trainee halls.
Their night by the fire had been more of a fever dream, she decided. Perhaps just a casual fling...an opportunity taken, convenient for one night only. How else could she look at it? And with this thought came a flare of anger at herself for so easily falling for him.
Because she had. She stopped, wishing in her heart that she was the kind of lass who could step up and make such a bold, outrageous Choice.
It can't be me, she told herself in a tiny voice. Whoever Chose the King's brother would have to be more beautiful, more pure, more properly mannered, more...everything.
Because I am none of those things. It hurt, admitting that to herself. But she steeled her will.
With that, she stood, wrung the water from her hair and denied herself anymore self-indulgent soaking or tears.
Wounded soldiers, she acknowledged, Have brief infatuations with their healers all the time. There were tricks a lass used to sidestep it—to avoid the lad by trading shifts or switching ward assignments.
But with a prince?
Yes. Even so. As soon as she was given leave to report back to the infirmary, she'd request a reassignment to the mothers' ward...she had learned much of Ered Luin's techniques for delivery complications, after all.
She toweled her hair, looked one more time at the amazing crystal-flecked stonework in the bath...and realized yet again how very out of place she was.
Oh, Kili...she thought for one last moment, regret in her heart for feelings that simply could never be acknowledged.
Then she shook her head at herself and re-dressed in clean healer-blue trousers and blouse with her healer's vest over the top. I am a healer trainee...plain and simple, she told herself.
And once he was better, she feared the Prince was going to see her as nothing more.
Heart thumping from another nightmare of spiders and orcs, Kili woke a second time to the sound of quietly trickling water...then the gentle touch of a warm, damp cloth on his forehead and the heady scent of steaming athelas. Ale barrels and wood smoke...the memory of better times past. It nearly lured him back to sleep. Yet these were her hands cupping his jaw, soothing his brow. Oh, Lass… He knew it was her—the sweet healer Nÿr.
Mine...but not mine. Never mine. He clenched his jaw against the urge to lean into her hand, to press his lips to the inside of her wrist. What would I not give for this lass in my life…
But when he moved, he turned his head away and his thoughts were dark. She deserves better than a cursed old warrior who can never leave his brother's land.
"Are you awake?" she murmured.
His eyes opened a little and he saw her—the tall form of the lass he would have to forget.
She looked back at him, all healer efficiency. She was checking his eyes, the temperature of his skin, tucking the blanket around him.
Mahal, he realized, seeing that something had changed. She knows it too, then. Knows she has to move on… Unexplainably, this hurt far more deeply than he'd thought.
He petulantly shrugged one arm out from under the blanket and scrubbed at his ear. Why was everything so damned disjointed when the fever came?
Her sober expression assessed him. Then that cute swing of her hip...and she moved a pot of athelas closer, fanning the steam over him.
He let his hand fall back to the covers as the sudden tension dissipated in a confusing swirl of frustration and relief. After a few calming breaths he looked up at her again. The tail-end of her long braid, now slightly damp, hung near his hand and on impulse, he touched it again.
She went still.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said softly.
She said nothing for a long moment. He caught her eye and they looked at each other.
"I'll do my best as a healer," she said, her words sounding rehearsed. But when she looked away, her voice dropped. "I'm not a worthy partner for you, Kili. You know that. All of Dale knows it." She shook her head. Why didn't he understand? "The rumors about me have not been forgotten, I assure you."
He felt his eyebrows twitch and forced his blurry brain to work. "I thought I was the one…" he managed. "Unfit for a lass like you."
She looked at him in alarm.
It soothed the part of him that had felt hurt by her coolness. "I'd hoped this was all over…" he tried to say it lightly and shrug off the despair of his curse, but his words came out sounding pained. He let his breath out in a small huff. "It's not..."
Her perfect green eyes were full of welling tears and she shook her head. "No," she confirmed. "It's not." Yet she did not cry for him, did not give in to tears.
Oh, my brave lass. "Mahal…" he mumbled. "I don't want to lose you," he said, feeling it deep in his heart but only half aware that something had prompted him to say it aloud.
"My lord," she said carefully. "I would not presume that one night of…"
"No," he said, feeling oddly alarmed and trying to rise. "That was not a casual, throw away thing. You," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Are not a throw-away person. Not to me." He swallowed, expecting now to hear the words he'd always feared. It's too much. I don't understand it.
"And stop calling me Lord." His words were barely above a whisper.
"Lay back and rest," she murmured. "You are unwell…" Her arm was around him and she eased him back to the pillow, and he let her do it—anything as long as it meant she stayed close to him. He could even smell the clean scent of sage oil soap, feel the gentle strength of her…
She shushed him then, one thumb gently stroking his forehead. His eyelids became suddenly heavy and he half raised one eyebrow in surprise at the trick.
And then he was asleep again.
When Kili woke the third time, he was alarmed by the sound of a scuffle outside his chamber. He sat up, his instinct to rise warring with a complete lack of strength and balance. And instead of throwing off his covers and grabbing his sword he found himself simply trying brace himself well enough to sit upright.
And there was Nÿr, opening the door to find a large, glossy raven who hopped inside and then flew for the back of a chair.
"Oh!" Kili heard her gasp, and part of his brain wondered if this was some kind of odd fever dream.
"Hen-hen...hen-hen…" The raven seemed to bow to the lass like a fledgling would defer to an elder. Then it eyed him. "King commands: Raven Prince in great hall," the raven quorked, pinning Kili with a steady look.
"Now?" she asked the bird. "He's not quite well. It would be better if…"
"Now," the bird said. "King says now."
"Yes, sir bird," Nÿr acquiesced, making a small curtsy. "Please tell his lordship that his brother will be there."
With that the bird eyed Kili again, then launched itself into the air and out of the chamber.
Kili stared, still trying to sort fever brain from reality.
"Here. I can help you get ready," Nÿr said, finding his cast-off robe.
Kili just blinked at her. "The raven," he said, trying to get his thoughts in order.
"Yes. He brought a message from your brother."
"But you understood him."
Nÿr seemed unconcerned as she shook out the robe. "Ravens are not that hard to…"
"Yes, they are," Kili told her, eyes wide. "That's an uncommon skill. Really uncommon." She held out the robe.
Kili grabbed it, suddenly embarrassed by her simple gesture. "And since when did you become my personal nurse?''
He saw Nÿr's posture freeze. Mahal, he was an ass when he didn't feel well.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching to touch her hand. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just...I want a friend, not a servant." He leaned his forehead against her arm. "If you would have me," he said. "Now that you know."
He wondered if she thought him tainted and unacceptable, infected as he was with a disease that could never be cured.
Nÿr's face was still, but her eyes blinked, as if she were thinking. "I'm just an orphan girl who grew up to be a healer," she said, slowly. "No one would ever take my Choice for you seriously even if I spoke of it."
"I would," he said firmly. "And if you can talk to ravens, you're not 'just an orphan girl'."
Then three other realizations quickly came together in his fuzzy brain. She was Durin-blooded, she would be hunted for it, and that story about the man in Dale trying to get her to leave with him? It meant someone else knew and had already tried once to take her against her will.
Mahal...how had no one known? The Grey Mountains wanted him for a marriage...but fact was, all they needed was her. Alone...with no kin to protect her.
Unacceptable. No. The horror of what would happen to her made his guts icy.
Kili slid from beneath the covers, intending to stand but wobbling and grabbing the bedframe for support instead.
Nÿr frowned, reaching out to help support him. "I don't understand."
He looked at her, their eyes nearly level. "Then it's a good thing that I do."
.
.
.
A/N: High five to Jessie152 for the Beta work (along with Tallboy) and for providing fab research on what colors of crystal would be found in green stone (in this case, malachite for Erebor's green stone…) Hand on heart to her for the detail check and the very cool science facts! Jessie152: Malachite is predominantly found together with azurite (beautiful royal blue!) and crystals like baryte (white pink crystals), calcite (white yellow crystals) and of course bornite, which is peacock ore.