For the next eight days Eorwyn stayed in the Erebor infirmary, and she was still confined to her bed. The third day she was moved to a large hall, where more beds stood, but they were all empty. Apparently, the infirmary had just been renovated, but most of the patients weren't moved to it yet. Eorwyn once again stopped sleeping well, just as she always did in larger rooms, but she obviously kept her torment to herself.

She suffered through the first day silently, but since she was repeatedly asked if she needed anything else, she finally gathered courage and asked Balar, her attendant, for some books to read. Mid-day of the second day she had fully mastered flipping pages with her bandaged hands. After that, she had to admit, she was having the best time of her life: she was allowed to read as much as she wanted, she was safe, warm, and fed. She would almost regret that the bandages were removed except she was getting frustrated with the limitations of making the calculations for her mental math exercises in her mind. She missed having a quill and parchment to make notes.

Finally, the healers removed all bandages from the left hand, which was affected less, and left a narrow one across her right palm. She was told she could now rise but she was to rest and stay indoors. Apparently, she once again had managed to exhaust her body's strength. She had awkwardly joked that she'd never had any - but the jest was clearly unappreciated by the severe chief healer. Eorwyn was mildly terrified of the Dwarf matron and decided to keep her mouth shut after this.

Balar came the morning of her release with her breakfast. While he was setting her tray on the side table, Eorwyn was staring at the wall.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

His question made her jerk, and she met his eyes.

"I'm… not," she answered with a sigh. "To be honest, I'm not sure what I am supposed to do now. Now, that I'm feeling better. Where am I to go?" She shook her head and smiled at him apologetically. "Pardon me, Balar, it is not your preoccupation, of course. I spoke out of turn."

The young Dwarf looked her over.

"Aren't you an emissary from the Men, my lady?" he asked confused.

Eorwyn laughed.

"Such sentence would never fall from the lips of a Man. A lady can't be an emissary." She sighed again. "So, nay, Balar, I am not. I don't really know what I am at the moment. I don't even have clothes of my own. If I am to leave Erebor now, I doubt that nightdress I had come here in was preserved."

"It was probably burnt, to prevent possible illnesses from spreading," the Dwarf answered. "Pardon me."

Eorwyn nodded sadly.

The Dwarf shifted awkwardly, then bowed to her, and left. Eorwyn sat for a few seconds and then reminded herself that self-pity never helped any situation. She knew not what fate had in the books for her. The meal she had in front of her could be her last one in a long time, she thought, just as many previous times she'd been thrown into a new calamity. She might as well fill her stomach. Maiar knew, when she'd eat so well again.

The day before the healers had told her she was well enough to leave. They had even given her a sachet of herbs to take away and a jar of balm to apply on her scars. She clearly wasn't expected to stay around.

She was finishing the second piece of bread, when a cough came from behind the curtain separating her cot from the rest of the hall.

"May I?" a familiar voice came, and Eorwyn froze with food behind her cheek.

The curtain moved, and the King's face showed up. He was smiling.

"Good day, Master Eoren."

Eorwyn swallowed loudly.

"My lord," she croaked, and he grinned even wider.

"I have a visitor for you."

The curtain wavered again, and Master Svuir stepped to her bed. Eorwyn suppressed a squeak. Unlike the King, the old Dwarf intimidated her to no end.

He looked her over, with his usual derisive frown.

"I see you are back," he said.

"I am," she squeaked, feeling like apologising but not knowing for what.

"For how long will you have to stay in the infirmary?" he asked, his expression sour.

"I was told I could leave any time today," she said and gave the King an uncertain look. "What is this about, my lord?"

"Do you want to come back to your studies or not?" Master Svuir asked suddenly.

She gawked at him. He sounded as if she'd been arguing or trying to talk her way out of it. She hadn't even known it was a possibility! The old Dwarf rolled his eyes and made a movement as if he was going to leave.

"Yes!" she as much as shouted. "Oh yes, please! I would love that very much! So much! More than anything!" She then folded her hands pleadingly and threw the King a begging look. "Please, could I?!"

The Dwarf barked a short laugh and nodded.

"I thought you'd want that," he said with a cheeky smile.

"I do! So much-"

"More than anything, yes, so we've just heard," Master Svuir said in a bored voice. "I don't see what I was brought here for, my lord. You could have delivered the joyful news yourself."

The old man threw another look over Eorwyn, nodded to the King, and walked away, heavily leaning on his cane.

The King and Eorwyn watched him and then the curtain that closed behind him, and then the King laughed.

"I talked to him this morning about this one idea of mine, and then I mentioned I was going to visit you. Don't let him deceive you," he said with a small lopsided smile, "He couldn't wait to see how you were faring. Didn't take my word for it, that you were better."

Eorwyn gave him an incredulous look.

"You're teasing me again!"

"I always seem to, but there is a grain of truth in all my jokes."

He sat on the chair near her bed.

"He worried." He gently patted her hand on the bed near her. "So, what are you going to do now? Besides going back to your studies?"

She looked at him bewildered. "I… don't know. A few minutes ago it seemed that I would have to leave Erebor, or beg to stay and seek some work here. I don't even have clothes!" she once again exclaimed.

Somehow it seemed upsetting to her, and she bit into her bottom lip to take her affliction under control.

The King gave her a warm look over and folded his arms on his chest.

"I'll be honest with you. I was coming here feeling like a hero. I was bringing you the news of Master Svuir agreeing to teach you more and I was going to offer you rooms, board, and gold-"

"I can't accept it!" she exclaimed, and he laughed softly.

"Exactly. Of course you can't. You're a proud little bird, aren't you?"

Her eyebrows jumped up from this odd familiar tone of his, and he smiled widely. There were little crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and despite the suffocating anxiety she felt she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, with his thick dark beard and the white teeth gleaming in the smile.

"You have a strange effect on me, my lady," he drew out, and squinted, as if trying to determine something about her.

She looked at him in shock.

"You make me… perceptive," he said with a chuckle. He seemed endlessly pleased with himself. "I was going to shower you with good news and gifts, but on my way here I suddenly thought, 'Would I accept them in her place?'"

"You wouldn't," she said firmly.

"No, I wouldn't," he said with a nod. "But I would accept a… loan."

"A loan?"

"Aye. Sort of an advance for when you take the position suiting you."

Eorwyn's head started to spin.

"What position?! And how much of a… loan?"

The King gave out a deep laugh.

"Once a bookkeeper, always a bookkeeper, aren't you, Master Eoren?" He gave her a lopsided smile. "I will lend you a small sum, enough to pay for a room and board in the High Halls. It won't be luxurious, but many of the apprentices live there. And once Master Svuir decides it's time, you will be able to choose a position for yourself in the Erebor bookkeepers guild."

Eorwyn pressed her bandaged right hand to her forehead, trying to rein down her thrashing thoughts.

"But... why? And how will I- What if I can't repay you?! And I'm no Dwarf! And-"

Her breath caught, and she gulped air with an open mouth. The King watched her squawk and jerk with an amused expression, but she reckoned she was starting to look close to fainting, since he leaned forward with a concerned face.

"My lady-"

"Why?!" The question erupted out of Eorwyn, and she grabbed his hand with her two. "Why are you so kind to me?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked.

Eorwyn leaned closer as well, searching his face. He was frowning now, and she immediately worried he misunderstood her.

"Please, my lord, do know I am grateful! So very grateful! And I will accept your kindness. Maiar help me, how can I not? I just-"

"You will not owe me anything," he said and tried to pull his hand back.

Eorwyn squeezed it harder. The palm was wide and rough, fingers strong and scorching. Eorwyn had never before been that acutely aware of a physical contact.

"I do not expect anything from you. It is not a machination," he said gravely. "I suppose, you were just…" His face lit up as if with a fortunate idea. "Lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Aye." He nodded looking satisfied with his words. "I won't pretend, my lady. I'm not a generous person. Especially not towards your kind." He chuckled. "But our paths crossed, and I got to know you. And I have the ability to help. Why wouldn't I then? You deserve every bit of it."

Eorwyn still held his large hand in hers. Her lips quivered but she took her emotions under control. One more thing worried her.

"But I'm no Dwarf. Is this allowed? For me to become Master Svuir's apprentice?"

The King covered her hand with his other hand and pulled, making her almost bump her nose to his.

"I think it'll be 'allowed,'" he whispered. Eorwyn stared into his bright blue eyes. "Since it was the King's idea," he finished.

Eorwyn grinned, and then laughed, and he joined her.

"You're wrong, though." She shook her head and exhaled. "I don't deserve this."

"Don't be coy," he murmured. "That noddle of yours made Old Svuir waddle through the whole Mountain to make sure you were alright. You'll do just fine."

He let go of her hands and leaned back in his chair.

"Maiar help me, I can't believe it's happening," she muttered.

"So, what will you start with?" he asked.

"With finding out what your interest rates are, my lord," she said and then gawked at him when he rolled with gleeful laughter. "But it's important! I need to make a plan, and-"

He was now guffawing so loudly that she closed her mouth sharply.

"Mahal be merciful, you're like an abacus yourself! I can just hear those beads… how did you put it? Clicking in your head." He wiggled his fingers near his temple. "But I can't say I disapprove. I'm a Dwarf after all. We shall talk interest in a moment, but first, tell me what will you do next?"

"I'll buy me a dress," Eorwyn said firmly, and the King's eyebrows jumped up.

The prospect suddenly filled Eorwyn with so much anticipation that she almost jumped off her cot.

"I know it's frivolous… but I haven't worn a dress in ten years! I'd been told to cut off my hair and to wear trousers and to forget who I was, and now-" She stopped herself and gave him an apologetic look. "It is trivial, I know."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, "But I don't like to be told how to behave either."

Eorwyn laughed. "And you say you aren't perceptive! That's quite an insight, my lord."

The left corner of his lips curled up in a smirk.

"You bring out the best in me, Master Eoren."