"Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service."

Thorin introduced himself, his voice trapped in his throat. He coughed, attempting to clear it and regain the familial dignity which went with the name. Marigold took a deep breath, swallowing. He was certainly of some noble line… The name sounded dishearteningly familiar, but she could not place it. The hobbit had not actually seen a dwarf before – it was her husband who had been the traveler, who had cast his lot in with that of the dwarves of Erebor… not her. She recognized the visitor's race immediately, however – there was nothing else he could be. He held himself proudly, yet there was an air of the untellable about him and it set her mind into a frenzy of questions.

"Marigold Took, at yours... I suppose."

She couldn't stifle the last biting addition – she was in no mood to deal with dwarves. It seemed every time a dwarf was involved with the Took family, something ill was bound to befall the relationship. And Mary didn't like what she had seen of the pair – the way Evie had clung to him, looked to him for support… It was certainly troublesome. How such a thing had come to pass she was anxious to know. Her daughter wrote to her on occasion, but it was difficult to get letters from one end of Middle Earth to the other, and so their exchanges were rare. She had thought Evie would visit her after bringing her companions to the Blue Mountains… But she had certainly not expected this.

"Evangeline, she…"

Thorin could not finish the thought. Not with Mary's harsh green eyes on trained him; it was as if she was looking through him, burning through him with her fiery gaze. No sentiment, as sincere as it might be, could quell her apprehension. The prince understood; at least, he thought he did… He had no children of his own and had not known a father for many years, but he felt protective of his sister, and of his people… Still, he could not faithfully imagine the shielding love of a mother over her wounded daughter. It was clear that Mary was on her guard, fully prepared to do what she had to in order to protect Evie from any further injury. Just as Thorin was fighting for Evangeline, her mother was too. And she had far more of a right to than he did – there was no contest in that.

There was a pause, and the healer guessed at what it was he wanted to know.

"She's in bad shape."

Marigold warned the stranger, looking him over. As much as her family had supported Durin's Folk through their struggles, the hobbit could not help but feel bitterness towards the dwarven race. They had taken so much from her family – claimed her husband and his father, her daughter's youth and security… And now perhaps even Evangeline's very life. Of course the injury could have happened anywhere, and with any group – but it had not. Evangeline had been with the dwarves when she had been hurt, and Mary was beginning to believe that the line of Durin was a curse for her family, and that she would do best to pry her daughter away from it despite any protest. She had not been able to save her husband from the quicksand that was the dwarves and their fate, but she refused to lose her daughter too.

Even as she hardened herself against this stranger and looked up at him with a glint of steel in her green eyes, Marigold couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself, how he sat down in the chair she offered him with a heaviness that could not be spoken. His grief seemed real enough, and if it was in honor of Evie then she could dislike the visitor only so much; but even as she reevaluated this particular dwarf in light of his kind, she wondered why he was any different from the rest.

"Can you save her?"

He asked, and the hobbit's lips pursed into a frown. The dwarf's eyes widened with anxiety as he gazed helplessly up at her from where he was seated. His shoulders slumped forward and his armor dirty from his travels, she almost felt for him – coming here could not have been easy. Even as the healer sympathized, she cursed him deep within her heart. She held no fondness for him or his people, and what did she care if he felt sorry about what had happened to her little girl? Of course he should feel remorseful – he let it happen. Reasonably, she could not fully blame him (Mary was a mother like any other, but she was not wholly irrational), for it was Evie's hand which had not been quick enough to belay her attacker, but still the hobbit saw the fault fall on the leader of the company, who should act responsible for everyone under his command.

"Perhaps."

She answered tersely, taking some biscuits out of the cupboard and setting them on the table. She poured a cup of water and placed that in front of the visitor as well, and he thanked her gratefully but did not touch it. His hands were folded on the table, unmoving. The dwarf's large eyebrows knitted together, his thin lips making a hard line across his face. Mary sat down opposite him at the table, her sharp gaze still trained on the melancholy traveler as if she could figure out what kind of person he was with just a glance.

"Drink. Eat. I'll make you a full meal before you go. By the look of her wound, if she really got it crossing the Misty Mountains then you have had many a hard day's ride to get here as quickly as you did, even with a stop or two along the way."

She noted, the wrinkles on her face growing darker. Evie had inherited her mother's nose and her cascade of blonde curls, but he had never seen Evangeline adopt the toughness he discovered in Marigold's eyes. He thought of her lying alone in the other room, and already he sensed the difficulty of their inevitable separation. Before you go… He had not thought past arriving at the Shire. Of course Mary would want him to go; he had no place here. He would continue on to the Blue Mountains with Telchar and Dwalin, to finish their journey… Still, he had not thought before of the challenge of leaving Evie behind. He had been so focused on ensuring her survival; he had not considered what might happen after she recovered. Surely they would be parted, it only made sense… Thorin had not consulted sensibility very often over the last few weeks; it felt strange to do so now.

It was clear that Marigold Took lived a hard life, and a lonely one. Evie was the only family she had left, and Thorin had returned the young hobbit home on the cusp of death – he held no expectation of her kindness or her appreciation, although that was what she tried to give him. Perhaps compassion was another Took family trait. The dwarf looked somberly down at the cup of water, his calloused fingers rubbing against each another as he felt the hollowness ringing in his chest gape wider.

"How well do you know my daughter?"

She asked, and the tone of her voice was very different than it had been before. This was a personal question. Thorin's brow furrowed tighter, his jaw setting. He did not know how to begin, what he could tell her…

"We met at the Battle of Azanulbizar. Your husband fought bravely there, and Fellin Took was buried with as much honor as we could bestow upon him. The dead numbered so great that we were forced to burn many of the bodies instead of burying them, but my father and I made certain that Fellin was given the honor he deserved for fighting for a people he barely knew…"

He trailed off, and Marigold fought to banish the unexpected rush of emotion released by the mention of her husband's name. This dwarf, Thorin – he had been there. He had buried him. She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them again.

"You did not answer my question."

Mary saw the distress flickering in his eyes and watched the tension building in his muscles, instantly confirming what she had wondered at earlier when she had seen them together. The hobbit had been alone for many years, and perhaps that was why she had such an eye for these sorts of things. She could predict the actions of Shirefolk almost to an art, and while it sometimes meant that living in Westfarthing could get a bit dull, she preferred it to a life of daring and adventure… She had seen what such things produced; and so she resigned herself to being the one who picked up the pieces, who bandaged the wounds and made sure no one got hurt, save herself. But that was a pain she had grown accustomed to, just as she had learned to appreciate the simple workings of the Shire. Her loneliness had taught her well how to recognize the longing glimmers of love when it lit up another's face, and Mary was sure her daughter had been infected with it. One glance had told her that much. While she was unaccustomed to the nature of the dwarves and therefore could not be certain of her presumptions, she guessed that Thorin was caught by that fickle creature, Love, as surely as her daughter seemed to be.

"You care for her."

She supplied, and the dwarf finally picked up the cup of water, drinking from it in order to stave off the need for an answer for one more moment, however brief. His silence could only go on for so long, however, and eventually he was forced to reply.

"She is a traveling companion."

His eyes grew cold as he told the lie (well, it wasn't quite a lie, although it certainly was not the whole truth), his grip still hard upon the metal cup. He intended to explain more than that, to speak as plainly as he could with the hobbit, but the fierceness of her stare quieted him. The corner of Mary's mouth simpered up into a smile, and Thorin felt immediately uncomfortable under her weighty gaze.

"I see."

She noted, leaning back in her chair. The hobbit suddenly remembered where she had heard that other name before – Thrain. Thrain, son of… "You said your name was Thorin, correct?"

"Yes, my lady. Thorin, son of Thrain."

"Would that be the same Thrain who was the son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain at Erebor?"

Her tone was calm and casual, but there was a biting undertone which made the dwarf stiffen uncomfortably in his seat.

"The very same."

"So that is why."

She observed aloud, standing up and getting herself a cup from the pantry. She filled it with something other than water, however, and Thorin did not ask what it was. He looked up at her inquisitively, although he did not speak.

"You care for her but you are obligated to your people, or perhaps she is below you and you are too noble to abuse her. I respect you for that, although there was a point, somewhere, when you saw this beginning, and you should have put an end to it then."

She asserted, realizing even as she said it that perhaps this was not the way to speak to a prince. But a mother knew no deference. She had already paid it with her husband's life. Thorin's heart seized in his chest and his entire body went cold. He could not recall being spoken to in such a manner before. It was not her tone which shocked him, it was her words. The truth in them was painful, deliberately so. The dwarf knew she stood correct, but he did not know how to explain that things were not as they appeared and that he had never meant for everything to unfold as it had. Even so, he was not sure he regretted anything that had happened between him and Evie, and now, with the incredible, exhilarating shock that she was alive – he had not given up on the possibility of a future for them together.

"My lady, you must understand." Thorin tried to explain, standing and suddenly appearing much more regal than he had a moment ago. He stood tall and proud, as was common for his race, and a kingly grace fell upon him as he defended his honor and that of the only female he had ever considered taking as a bride.

"I never intended for my relationship with your daughter to develop any farther than that of friendship, and it has yet to do so," he clarified, his blue eyes bright and serious. "I am the leader of my people, and I am duty bound to find them a permanent place to live. Evangeline has suggested that we travel to the Blue Mountains, and if a suitable residence can be found there, we shall make a home for ourselves. If this can be done –"

"You will be freed of your responsibility?"

Marigold questioned, just old and resentful enough to cut in as she did. The hobbit would protect her daughter as well as she could, and since the poor girl was already physically injured, it was her mother's duty to spare her any emotional pain. Thorin swallowed, the muscles in his face twitching uncomfortably.

"My obligation to the dwarves will never end – it is my family's legacy to protect Durin's Folk. But if we can make a living for ourselves in the mountains, to start families and build new lives…"

He took a deep breath, looking away from the condemnatory hobbit, whose gaze was boring into him. He had never had to defend himself in such a way, never needed to. He rarely owed anyone an explanation, but Evie's mother… He felt that he was in more debt to this hobbit than he could ever repay, as indirect as their relationship was. Especially if somehow he and Evangeline could create a future together… The prince narrowed his eyes, searching for the correct words to explain something he had never put voice to before.

"There was a time, right after the attack, when we thought we had lost her."

Even Marigold was not so callous as to shut out these words, ones spoken so quietly they were almost at a whisper. Thorin's voice rumbled deep in his throat, like each phrase was immensely difficult to say. It was a confession, and everything about the way his expression modeled the agony and longing of lost hope and the deep understanding of sorrow kept her hanging on his every word, her vindictive armor falling away piece by piece as he made clear just how he felt about her daughter.

"I have seen horrors in my life. I have lost my entire family, save my sister, to war and persecution. You know the story of the Fall of Erebor, and I may guess that you have heard how the exiled dwarves have wandered since that day. Our cause was enough to stir your husband to action, and while I do not claim to have known him, I will call him a brave and noble hobbit. My whole life has been devoted to doing right by Durin's Folk, without a thought to myself or my own happiness."

He paused, his hand clenching into a fist at his side, as if the dwarf needed to display his extreme sentiment in some physical manner. Thorin closed his eyes, his expression softening as he thought for a moment, remembered, and then opened his eyes again.

"I had never considered marriage, never thought of having a family of my own or finding companionship, before I met Evangeline. When we crossed paths in Gondor, she changed something within me. There was not one moment in which I knew it, there were many. And at each of them I could not bear to deny what I felt. I still cannot, and I refuse to. I do not know what the future holds for us – it would be a lie to say otherwise, but I must know you understand that for me to see your daughter in pain is the greatest of agonies. I wish never to see her hurt again. I know you are trying to protect her from me and perhaps that is wise…" He took another breath, fortifying himself. "I am the Heir to the Line of Durin, and my people will always come first."

It stung him to say it, but it was true. It would be better for Evangeline to find someone else, someone more capable of devoting his entire life to her, to making her first and only in his thoughts. Thorin wished he could have such a luxury of feeling, but he understood his place in the world and accepted it. He made a hard noise in the back of his throat, casting away his billowing sentiment and looking back toward the hobbit.

Marigold Took wore an expression of confusion and melancholy. She understood him and his intentions for her daughter, but how could she approve of such a thing?! What if the dwarves could not make a home in the Blue Mountains? What if he never felt comfortable enough to marry, to think of himself and of another, even for a moment? There were too many possibilities, and each one frightened the hobbit. She could see the good in Thorin and respected him for it, but she also knew the cruel reality of his situation and what it most likely meant for Evangeline. Marigold wanted a grand life for her daughter, just as Evie had always claimed she desired, but this was perhaps too fantastic. Life was not a storybook, and often it did not have a happy ending. She could imagine her daughter as a queen, constantly striving for the happiness of her people and beloved by them, but with the dwarves?! It was a fairytale, and Mary of all people knew those did not exist. She had known too much grief to contend with the idea, and she sensed that Thorin had too.

"So what do you do now? Move on to see the mountains, and make your decision there?"

She asked, her voice a little fainter than she had anticipated.

"I know it is not the answer you wish to hear, or the one Evangeline deserves."

He conceded, bowing his head in defeat. Marigold scrunched up her nose, and for a moment she took on the countenance of her daughter.

"As you can imagine I do not like it. No mother could. And yet…" She sighed, stepping towards the imposing dwarf, who stood well over a foot taller than her. "If she will still have you, that is her decision."

Thorin reacted strangely to her words, his fervent eyes adopting an almost youthful questioning.

"Do you think she would have me?"

It was so eager, so unexpectedly innocent, that Mary almost laughed. She restricted herself to a smile, and patted the prince on the hand maternally, some of her anxiety melting away at his obvious regard for her Evie.

"I have never seen her so smitten."

She replied dolefully, squeezing the dwarf's large hand. "And if you care for her in return, you will keep your distance until you know whether or not you are able to give yourself to her. Be fair and honest, and then you are on your way already."

She advised, and Thorin tried a smile.

"But I expect you to come back to her."

She added sternly, and the dwarf prince nodded.

"I will."

He said, and he meant it.

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Author's Note: Thank you for being patient and waiting a bit for this one- I've had a very long, rough week with thesis deadlines, job interviews, and midterms, so it's been difficult to find an opportunity to sit down and spend some quality time on this, and I feel like Thorin and Evie deserve no less. But here it is! I'm interested to see what you think of Evie's mother- now we can see where some of that spunk comes from. Much love to you all- your thoughts and support really help me get through all this craziness and keep going with this story, which is such a lovely part of my life. !