Thanks to everyone who adds and favours, and my reviewers: Vanafidniel, FeeKilico, Marina Oakenshield, Rhyska Nevar, MaxRideandPercyJackson4ever, jennlit, huntressofartemis101, sarah0406, InezSophia, and Distorted Lullabies!
Always a special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!
Inspiration for the song verses:
Gjallarhorn - I Riden Så
Hedningarna - Drafur & Gildur
Chapter 29 - Unexpected Herrings
The girls steered their way, not through the forest like refugees, but to the nearest white-stone road like ordinary travellers. Many people were leaving to mountain at the end of the festival, especially merchants, bakers, wine makes, and cooks who only came for the extra work and wished to get back on the road as soon as their business had ended, even if it meant leaving Dale in the middle of the night. Hanah and Hemery easily blended in with the trail of men going downhill to Esgaroth.
The city on the lake was rarely quiet or calm. It had doubled in size several times over since the death of The Dragon, turning it into a metropolis on wood and stone legs, balancing its body over the surface of the Long Lake. The number of Esgaroth's inhabitants rivaled that of Dale and Erebor combined. Esgaroth rose in height up to five floors, or more in some places, housing several different tenants in one house. Some floors connected to their neighbor on the other side of the street with a wooden bridge. Long balconies hugged the buildings, acting as roads up to the top, like serpentine paths on a steep mountainside.
Taverns shone warm light into the night on every street corner, always open. Men, women, elves, and dwarves moved on the streets, as well as some who defied definition. Hanah did not even try.
They stopped at three packed inn's before the man who attended the night desk at The Galley took pity on the girls and allowed them to sleep in the stables. All the rooms were full due to the festival.
Trying not to think about what would happen the next morning, Hanah lay behind Hemery on a stack of hay on a loft somewhere on the outskirts of Esgaroth. Below them, a row of horses shuffled their hooves and grunted, the sound of their moving bodies comforting.
Hanah sang her sister to sleep.
O, woe is me, what do I see
All under the green linden tree
I see my daughter coming to me
She ride so carefully through the grove with thee
And if she silently cried herself to sleep afterwards because she had left everything she had ever dreamed of to an uncertain fate, never to be reached again, no one would ever know.
That night, it began to snow.
The girls ate breakfast at the inn. Though it was more like an early dinner since they had not gotten to sleep until dawn. Some straw had made its way down Hanah's boot when she slept and was now pricking and tickling her leg as she sat at a table in the small tavern eating pork and pea soup with mustard.
The tavern was fairly quiet, only two other tables were occupied. Hemery had said next to nothing since they woke. As the festivities were concluded with Durin's Day the night before, most of the visitors and ambulant traders were leaving the mountain region. Though Esgaroth was a busy tradestown every season of the year, Hanah could tell the difference by the sound of the street outside.
Now, the snow came, isolating the north. It would be foolish to begin a long journey right now, especially on foot, with no goal set. Esgaroth was big. Perhaps they could stay here for the winter.
"Sir," Hanah called to the innkeeper as he passed. "How's business?"
He paused by the girls' table, eyebrow raised.
"Good, until five hours ago when my last patrons left their keys at the desk. Til March, there'll be nothing but eaters and drinkers in these rooms."
"Surely, with the Midwinter's Eve comin' up, you'll have more than enough drinkers to make up the loss?"
A lopsided smile formed on his weathered face as he threw a rag over his shoulder and folded his arms.
"I hear a proposition coming on. Go on, lass."
"I'm lookin' for work—" She did not get further before he interrupted her.
"Already staffed with cook and housekeeper, and I can't pay wages for one more, let alone two." He nodded towards Hemery.
"We can peel taters and scrub floors as well as anyone, and we don't need much."
His brow furrowed. "You'd take wages less than others?"
"We hadn't planned on stayin', but the weather is too unpredictable. You know what the northern winters are like. We just need a roof over our heads."
The man leaned on his knuckle on the table. "Are you alright? Seem pretty desperate."
Hanah shrugged. "As desperate as beggars durin' wintertime. We're not yet, but we will be unless we find work. And that's hard to find this time of year. We're just two poor souls stuck in a cold snap."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You can sleep in the attic. As long as you're no trouble, you can stay."
"Thank you, sir." Hanah forced a friendly smile.
"Welcome to The Galley."
After the innkeeper left their table, Hanah could eat a little easier. Hemery had put her spoon down a while ago, but if she had opinions about Hanah's deal with the innkeeper, she kept it to herself.
The amount of snow that fell during this time was the greatest in a hundred years. The trails and roads between Dale and Esgaroth were unrecognizable and were filled in with fresh drifts as fast as people cleared them. And the closer one tried to climb to Dale, the fiercer the wind howled and thicker the snow fell. The mountain was completely cut off from the rest of the world.
Just like Hanah and Hemery were stuck in the town on the lake, so was Dwalin. Snow already covered the ground in several inches when he arrived the day after Fíli had fallen ill. They would have had time to reach Esgaroth, but he did not believe they would risk trekking further through blind, white days and cold, starless nights to any other settlement large enough to shelter from inquiry. The next town was days away.
No, he was convinced Hanah and Hemery were still in Esgaroth.
Dwalin had friends and informants in town, but since many people had passed through in the last week, and the girls had made no remarkable entrance, their leads were soon exhausted. Though dwarves were plenty in Lake Town, Dwalin was not a well-known face there as he was in Dale. People would not take kindly to a former military official from Erebor asking about missing girls in Esgaroth. This was not an official investigation; the Durins did not want the lord of Lake Town involved.
As far as Dwalin knew, Thorin had no intention of letting his nephew's circumstances become known to the public. He cursed Thorin for not cultivating a better relationship between the cities. If he had, this field trip would have been over in two shakes of a dog's tail.
A month passed before he had any luck in his search.
The sisters got up earlier than usual on the morning of Midwinter's Eve. It was the shortest day of the year, not in hours, but in sunlight. Not that anyone had seen the sun in recently, it had been snowing almost everyday for a month. Nevertheless, it was an important day, signifying the turn of the season. Though winter would hold the north in its grasp for a long while yet, the days would only grow longer from now on until Midsummer when the sun would be up all day and all night.
And as all important days, Midwinter's Eve would be celebrated by a feast. A feast Hanah and Hemery would help cook for all the people who would attend the tavern that night. Two more cooks and two more servers were hired to help particularly for this holiday. They would be on their feet from noon until midnight.
Not the sisters, though. They would stay in the kitchen, peeling carrots and potatoes and chopping onions. Their hands and their eyes would be red raw, but at least they got to sit down for the duration.
...Goblins' hoard is decimated
By dwarf soldiers dominated
Blood of dwarves run high
Goblins' end is nigh
The kitchen erupted in laughter as Hemery's singing came to an end. The cooks were making gravy by the pint to reheat later, and the serving girls were stacking plates.
"Where did you learn that?" the older woman over the stove asked, a wide smile showing yellowed teeth from a lifetime of smoking pipe weed.
Hemery looked down as she dipped another potato in a large pan of cold water.
"A friend," she answered simply, her smile fading.
Hanah observed her sister as the rest of the kitchen staff went back to chatting about the upcoming chores. She wanted to say something, but nothing could bring them back to Dwalin's yard where they had been free and happy. And it would not do to discuss him in front of their work comrades. No one knew where they came from, and it needed to stay that way. Hemery knew this as well.
Suddenly, there was a bang of glass breaking on the stone floor of the kitchen.
"Bloody scales of the scorching sky snake!" one of the cooks growled in lament as he bent low to retrieve the cracked jar of pickled herring from the floor. The strong, tart smell quickly filled the room as the others moaned in dismay.
But none were as affected as Hanah who had to leave the room in haste, a hand covering her mouth and nose.
She made it to the water's edge outside the tavern before she threw up her small breakfast of bread and tea. There were some advantages to living on a lake, Hanah mused. She had felt ill at ease when they first came to live in Esgaroth for the very reason that the house, the street, the stables, and everything was on top a large body of water. Now, she could better appreciate it.
She took a minute to breathe in the fresh December air, calming her stomach a bit. She had felt funny for a few days, but had not suffered any evidence of illness until now. When she turned to back inside, she came face to face with Hemery.
"What are you doin'?" Hemery stared her down as if Hanah had been to buy sugared almonds without intending to share any with her sister.
"I needed some air. There are too many people in the kitchen today. We suck all the air out. Tonight will be unbearable." Hanah tried to smile, but could feel it was shaky.
"You're sick," Hemery stated.
"It will pass." Hanah moved to go inside, but Hemery grabbed her arm.
"It's happenin' again." Her brow was furrowed and her eyes pained.
"What?" Hanah froze.
"You will empty your stomach for weeks and then you will hurt and then you will lie in bed and bleed until you die." Hemery's eyes were wide and wet.
Hanah looked around them to see that no one in the street was near enough to overhear their conversation.
Her body had behaved unusual lately. It had occurred to her that. . . it could be the case that. . . perhaps. . . she was possibly. . . with child. And if that was the case, then she was the most impregnable woman in Middle Earth, but not in mortal peril.
"I will not die. Don't be silly."
"It's him, isn't it? Fíli?" Hemery looked livid now. "I knew he couldn't be trusted."
"It's not like that. Keep your voice down," Hanah hissed.
"He made this happen, and you and I will suffer for it."
Hanah put her hands on Hemery's shoulders.
"We will not suffer. I'm not gonna die. I'm gonna be fine."
Hemery hung her head, hopelessly. "You don't know that," she whined.
"We've come this far. I haven't been stressing or been nearly choked to death recently," Hanah reasoned soberly. "Nothin' has happened lately that could endanger my body. So. . . if I am—you know—then it will be fine. We'll deal with it. Alright? It's not the end of the world."
Hemery did not seem convinced.
"Why, Han? Why did you do it?" She sounded thoroughly miserable.
Hanah had no excuse or explanation that could justify her actions with Fíli. She had learned what it was like to want, and it could not be shut off. She could deny herself comfort, hot food, sleep, anything to keep her and her sister alive. But she could not deny herself him. Not when he was right in front of her, his warm skin inches away, and his eyes so clear and focused on her.
Hanah sighed.
"Because I love him."
Hemery froze with her head still bent. Slowly, she looked up at Hanah, confusion on her face.
"What?" She curved her upper lip.
Hanah shrugged. "I loved him. I still do, I think."
"You love him?" Hemery echoed flatly.
"Yes," Hanah replied. Beginning to feel defensive, she released Hemery's shoulders and folded her arms over her chest.
"What does that have to do with anythin'?" Hemery did not understand the connection.
"Because—" Hanah was unsure how to explain it. "When you love someone, you want to, you know, show it in certain ways. Listen—what I mean is. . ." she floundered.
"Can't you love someone without. . . that? That's the worst excuse I've ever heard! You love him, so you let him put you in danger? That's stupid!"
"Hem, this was my choice. I chose to do it, and I'm not sorry I did it."
"Don't pretend like the thought hasn't crossed your mind. You could die because of him," Hem argued.
"Of course I have thought about it, but it's not like I planned it,"Hanah spat in annoyance. "I don't want a repetition of what happened last spring any more than you do. I honestly didn't think I would get pregnant after one night. Do you know how many times I lay with Graham before it happened?"
"Ah! I don't want to know!" Hemery waved her hands in front of her face, as if trying to erase the image in her head.
"Good, 'cause we're not talkin' about this anymore," Hanah pointed a determined finger at her sister. "It happened! There. Done."
Hemery let out a groan of anger and frustration before turning and walking away down the street.
"Where are you goin'?" Hanah called after her. Her voice was muted by the snow coating everything in sight. "We don't have time for tantrums. You can sulk tomorrow!"
Hemery bent down and gathered two handfuls of snow into a ball and threw it at her sister. It would have hit her chest if Hanah had not anticipated the aim and met the ball in flight with her palm, shattering the loose snow in mid-air.
"Hey!" Hanah barked.
Hemery stuck out her tongue at her, deliberately childish, before continuing down the street.
"Yeah, charming. Thank you,"Hanna called, sarcastically. "I'm doin' a fine job of raisin' you, m'lady."
Hanah watched Hemery turn a corner before going back inside, figuring she would be back soon.
Dwalin had begun to surveil the most common gathering places around town, starting with the big markets and main streets of Esgaroth. He would place himself in one of the many corner taverns and watch people, basically. And if this sort of research allowed him to drink ale at the same time, well, who was he to complain? He had been stuck in this town for a month with fuck all to do but move around, watching, and waiting.
Even this proved difficult, however, since the snowfall which kept most people indoors would not let up. Every day, flakes as big as apple blossoms whirled ceaselessly around corners, up sleeves, and in under people's hoods. Another problem was the heavy winter clothing the inhabitants wore during the snowy season. The hoods and the cloaks made it nearly impossible to identify individuals in the streets.
Nearly impossible. Dwalin was learning to recognize gaits and heights of pedestrians in certain areas, and learn to distinguish colors, decorations, and coat of arms of different cloaks. But it was a slow process, and fruitless for his purposes.
He was on his way to a new tavern this Midwinter morning. It was going be a long day with a lot of people out and about, and he had set his eyes on a particular place which rumored to serve a fine pale ale to make it worth his while.
Suddenly, a familiar figure became visible through the snowfall on the opposite end of the street. Short, but quick steps, estimated height not reaching beyond his own chest, shoulders pulled up in a tense posture. Dwalin screwed his eyes through the white blur.
Could it be?
"Ladybug?" he barked loud enough to be heard over the carts pulled on the street and the howling wind.
The figure stopped.
