The blade in his hand presses into your stomach, and before you have time to grasp what is happening, a terrifying golden wave erupts out of your palms, it runs through your whole body, lifting your hair, vibrating and tense. It blasts into Amrod's body, throwing him across the kitchen, his back hits the cupboard, and he falls on the floor, blood gushing out of his broken lips and a bruise on his forehead.
You are petrified, palms pressed to your mouth, still sitting in the chair. He lifts his torso on one arm, and his bloodied lips twist, "I think that answers to my question on the parentage of your child, Filegethiel. And please believe me, I would never hurt you or... the bastard of the Dwarven King, but I just needed to make sure." He gets up and sways. He is pallid, blood running down his face and chin, he is violently shaking.
Mira steps into the kitchen, her eyes twice the normal size, lips trembling. "Father?.." He turns to her, and his face contorts in pain. "Father, you are bleeding!" She steps to him, but he jerks away, and after a moment of hesitation he picks up his bag and strides out of the house. You still cannot bring yourself to move.
Mira dashes to you, and you embrace her. She is shaking, and you stir out of your stupour. You start rocking her, shushing comfortingly, "It is alright, Mira, your father just slipped in the kitchen…" She is shaking her head, and you remember you cannot pussyfoot around the truth with her like you would with any other child. She pushes away from you and looks into your eyes, "We need to go after him, emel, he is in danger!" "It is alright, Mira, he just needs time to calm down. There is no danger." You assume he would probably go to the inn and drink ale all night. It seems to be happening quite often these days. She gets up and starts stubbornly pulling at your hand. "Please, emel, we need to go, we need to find him."
You decide that honesty is the best approach with the child such as Mira. "My heart, your father would not want to see me right now. He is very upset with me, he needs time to think." She stops and looks at you attentively, "Why is he upset with you, emel?" You lower your head. How much can one tell a six year old, even such a remarkable one as your daughter? "Your father knows that I do not want to live here anymore… That I want to live in the Dwarven Mountain…" "With King Thorin?" She interrupts, and you look up to see her face. She is calm, pondering your words now, and you exhale. "Yes, with King Thorin." "Of course you do, you are his swan princess." You stare at her aghast. "Do you love him more than Father?" You are shocked, she does not even question that you love them both. All you can do is nod.
She walks around the table and sits on the chair where Amrod was sitting just a few minutes ago. "So you love them both, but you love the King more. If you go to the Mountain, will you take me with you?" Her tone is astonishingly even, and you rush and kneel in front of her. "Of course, Mira, I will take you with me." "And if I do not wish to go? What if I want to stay with Father?" You feel sharp pain in your chest, but she is right. There is this possibility as well. "Do you, Mira?" "I do not know. I want to live with you both… But since we went to Erebor, I know it cannot be… And I see why you want to go back there, he needs you..." You feel tears running down your face. She cups your face and makes you look into her eyes. "And you need him. And it is important, you never think of it, emel… What you need… You need King Thorin, more than you need Father, more than you need me..."
"No, no!" You cry out and press her into you. "I do not need anyone more than I need you. You are my heart, my life, Mira, no one matters more than you." She embraces you just as tightly, and you two cry in each other's arms for a while. Your mood sways from dark despair over the nightmare you turned your life into, and the ecstatic joy over your new pregnancy.
You sit Mira back into the chair and hold her hands, "I have something I need to tell you, guren. I am expecting another child." She looks at your stomach, being a daughter of midwife she early became familiar with proceedings of propagation. You are studying her face in search of possible jealousy, but Mira is Mira. She smiles to you, and you smile back. You two do not need words. But then her brows draw together, "Whom does he belong to?" He… You smile to your miraculous daughter.
"He belongs to us. To you and me. He is my son and your brother, and we will all be together." She nods and places her small hand on the exact spot where a four month old babe in your womb has to be. Her face is soft and tender, and you are looking at her in awe.
And then she suddenly laughs, "He is a very grumpy boy, is he not, emel?" You are not certain whether you chuckle or sob. "Is he, my heart?" "Oh, yes, very much so. And stubborn! Is he going to pull my hair like the neighbour's boy?" She is eyeing your stomach with suspicion now, and you laugh. "I will make sure he treats you with respect, guren." She nods and throws her arms around your neck. "Is it going to be just the three of us now, emel?" Her voice is quiet, and you sign. "I do not know, my heart."
You put her back to sleep, and then you go to your bed. You are lying in the dark, your palms folded on your stomach, and your thoughts rush to the far away mountain. Amrod was right, you are carrying a bastard son of the King Under the Mountain. Should you send him a letter? Should you go to him? You turn on your side and press your face into the pillow. The Thorin you knew would forgive you, for how you behaved, for what you did to him, he would let you live in his city, and he would love your son. But is there anything from his old self left in him? Have you betrayed him too many times?
Another thought terrifies you. What if he decides to take your son away? You have no leverage if he decides to deprive you of your right to see your son. He can easily throw you out of Erebor and close the stone gates behind you. And you realize it goes back to the same old question. Do you trust the King Under the Mountain to open your cards and place your destiny in his hands? But this time it is also the lives of your two children you are gambling with.
The next morning you leave Mira with Enna and her two children and go to search for Amrod. The first two inns do not bring success although he was shortly seen in both of them, you pay his bill in one of them, and in the third one the innkeeper directs you to one of the rooms upstairs.
You find Amrod in bed with three women, all four of them in deep post-coital slumber. You make yourself look at the entanglement of naked bodies for a few moments, it is your doing, the result of your crime. And then you touch his shoulder. The brown eyes immediately fly open, and he is staring at you. For a second panic splashes in his irises, but then his jaws are tense, muscles in knots on them.
"Can we talk, Amrod?" Your tone is soft, and he exhales sharply. He climbs out of the bed, unconcerned with his nakedness, one of the women stirs in her sleep. He pulls on his trousers, and the two of you step out on the balcony. The day is warm, the Fall has not stepped into its rights yet, but you feel the underlying coolness in the wind.
He leans back on the rail, squinting his eyes in the sun. He can drink an immense amount of ale before he gets fuddled, but he always pays for it the next morning. You imagine he is suffering of excruciating headache at the moment. You hand him a flask with water, and he looks at you in surprise.
"Have you decided to poison me for the good measure, Alfirin?" You snort and shake your head. He takes a sip and sighs, "Some of your herbs would also be delightful at the moment." You open your palm with a small sachet on it, and he chuckles. "Always so considerate, always a good wife." His words sting, but they should. To be honest, he is being very moderate. But again, you did not expect lashing out, it is just not in Amrod's nature. His outburst in the kitchen shocked and frightened you at a great extent because he had always demonstrated a very even temper before last night.
"Did you come to tell me you are leaving, Alfirin?" "I came because Mira was worried about you last night, she said you were in danger, I tend to believe her premonitions." He nods, he is aware of your daughter's gift. "And still you waited till the morning," he shakes the content of the sachet into his mouth and washes it down with water. "You threatened me with a knife last night, Amrod. I was not going to risk seeing you before you let your rage out." He chuckles again, "That I did." You nod and try not to think of the three women sleeping in the bed inside. "I paid your bill in the inn by the river." Your tone is mundane, and he almost laughs. "I am grateful."
He rubs his face with his hands. "When are you leaving for Erebor, Alfirin?" You do not know. You would prefer to stay, you are still not certain how to proceed. But he is right, you have no right staying in his house. He is looking at you sideways, and then he sighs heavily. "I can stay in the inn until the next patrol. You can have the house to yourself for as long as you want, Alfirin, just let me see Mira every day until you leave." You are leaning on the rail, "Are you not going to ask me to leave her with you?" He chuckles again, "I am not a very good father, no one in their sane mind would leave a child with me."
You turn sharply, and without thinking you touch his naked shoulder. "You are a wonderful father, Amrod. You did all you could. Considering the service and… And what she is like…" He is looking at your hand, and you start moving it away. His large palm covers it, and his lips twitch. "I was never around..." "Being around would not have changed anything, Amrod, she is just what she is..."
He strokes your knuckles with his thumb. "And you? Would it have changed anything with you?" He is looking into your eyes, and for a second your assurance wavers. You have loved him, you truly have. And perhaps you still do.
But then you shake off the daze and lower your eyes. You are not making the same mistake again. You have caused enough pain for him. You loved him, but you just do not love him enough. Being with him just because you crave love and warmth is the cruelty above any other. You have to face the consequences of the wrongdoings you have committed.
"No, nothing you did could have changed what is happening," you pull your hand from under his, "Because it was never your doing. It is all my fault. I made it happen, I am at fault." You look him in the eyes, and you see tears in his warm brown eyes. "Forgive me, Amrod. Not now, maybe not ever, just remember," your voice breaks and tears run down your cheeks, "I am so, so sorry…" He pulls you into him, and you press your cheek into his skin for the last time.
"Farewell, Alfirin, the flower of the North," his voice is hardly audible, and you nod, you cannot find your voice from the acute grief choking your throat. And then you twist out of his arms, it feels as if he is trying to halt you, but you run out of the room and down the stairs. You step out of the inn and take a giant gulp of air.
You might not possess your daughter's gift but even you can feel the cold premonition releasing its grip on your heart. He might not ever forgive you, but leaving him is the most honest thing you could have done. You are his poison and his doom. You think of the dream you had last night. Of his broken body in your arm, dying from a gaping wound in his side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His body burning in a funeral pyre, along with Men of the North and Dwarves, and the King silently standing near you. Many years ago you have accepted this other life you seem to see in your dreams, and you know for certain all you would have brought to Amrod is his demise. You turn around and go back to your house. You need to decide what to do next.