Chapter 29: Trouble with Grace

Later in the day, while Grace was still resting, Bard, Legolas, and Thorin met in a private room to discuss the day's events. The Master was not invited.

"So you are Girion's descendant and heir to Dale," Thorin said, eyeing with troubled eyes the handsome man sitting before him. "What are your thoughts now that Smaug is gone?"

Bard sat back and regarded Thorin without expression before he replied.

"My plans are the same as yours, Thorin," he said, "but before we speak of anything else we must speak of the treasure at Erebor. Smaug stole my people's wealth as well as yours, and I ask that it be returned to us."

Thorin's nostrils flared at his words, and the knuckles of clenched fists turned white before he placed the palms of his hands flat on the table.

"I have thought of nothing all these years but my own people's sufferings and the loss of our home," he said, "but your people have suffered as greatly as ours, and I acknowledge the justice of your claim. I will give you all that is yours and more besides to rebuild Dale."

Bard reeled at Thorin's unexpected generosity, and Legolas leaned forward.

"And what service may the elves render?" he asked. "There is much to do at Dale and Erebor and without your people it would take years to rebuild."

Thorin took a deep breath and reminded himself that Grace wore his braids. His fearsome temper was more than an inconvenience now, and he regulated his breathing and fought for calm.

"That is so," he said. He stroked his beard as he thought on what to do.

What would Grace want me to do?

"I will pay all the residents of Lake-town and the elves of Greenwood the Great handsomely for their help in restoring Dale and Erebor," he said. "Now that winter is hard upon us, there may be little we can do, but let us start nonetheless. I believe we have waited long enough."

Thorin and Balin stayed with Grace at night to make sure that her enemy did not return in her weakened state, but the next morning the Master decided that he had waited long enough and paid her a visit after they left. He lingered in the doorway and feasted his greedy eyes on her. She was weary but agreed to meet with him at his request. Entering with a flourish, he dismissed her attendants with an impatient wave of his hand. Agathil, however, decided to listen at the door after she saw the suspicious gleam in his eye.

"My lady, my lady," he said, "words cannot express my gratitude at how you have helped rid our land of the scourge of Smaug and in such a heroic way! It has been much talked of in Lake-town and soon will be talked of Middle-earth!"

"I thank you," she said while leaning back on her pillows, "but I do not want anyone to know of my involvement in this. The only important news is that Smaug is dead."

"Of course, of course," he said, "and how noble of you to offer your assistance to the dwarves, although it is unfortunate that you were not acquainted with the true state of affairs when you promised your help."

"What state of affairs?"

"Oh, only that the dwarves were more than capable to reclaim their homeland without your help," he said. "It's our people and the people of Dale who have truly suffered."

After settling himself in a chair beside her bed, he told her that Thorin had resettled his people so well in the fertile Blue Mountains that they lacked nothing of importance.

"They tell stories of Erebor to be sure," he said with an oily smirk, "but I would be surprised if any would want to leave the comfort of their homes now to come back to an old ruin. However, the people of Dale and Lake-town have suffered cruelly since Smaug." At his words, her brow knitted in confusion, and her head spun.

"They are now because of your presence, my lady," he said, "but they will all soon return to despair when you leave to help the dwarves, and our children will suffer the most."

She turned her head to the wall as tears gathered. This was not at all what she had been told or led to expect, yet Thorin would not have deceived her. His grief was genuine, but how to answer this then? It was too much to think on.

"I am very tired now and need to rest," she said.

He smiled with satisfaction, his eyes traveling down her body as she lay on the bed.

"I bid you good day now, my lady," he said. Agathil had just wrung out her mop, and she looked up to see him march toward her. Squeezing her arm so that she dropped her mop, he pulled her up against his chest and leaned over.

"One word, just one word, and you and your family will be banished from Lake-town, and I will see to it personally that you all starve!"

Thorin and his company, along with Grace, stayed at Lake-town for several days, but her recovery was slower than expected. Meanwhile, the townspeople hailed the dwarves as victors and gave them every courtesy in their ramshackle township, which included barely palatable food. The general mood was joyful though, and everywhere the dwarves walked, they heard snatches of conversations about Thorin fulfilling his promises. Fishermen discussed a new fishing fleet, merchants gabbed about rich new wares to sell, and women gossiped about food, clothes, and medicine for their families. Gloin, Oin, and Bombur listened in on the talk and rolled their eyes.

"They think we'll be wheeling riches down on carts tomorrow," Gloin grumbled. "We haven't even settled ourselves in Erebor yet, and they're already spending our money."

Oin readjusted his earpiece. He agreed that the good citizens of Lake-town were getting ahead of themselves, but ...

"I don't think it a problem, not yet anyway," he said. He cocked his head and listened some more and then shrugged one shoulder.

"You can't blame them. It's the best news they've heard in years."

In the dingy pub on the first floor of the inn, another grouping of dwarves sat on benches around a plank table.

"I think we drank up the last of the ale," Kili said with a wipe of his now cleaner sleeve across his mouth. Fili arched one brow and guzzled down the rest of his mug.

"Aye," he said, hunkering down and guarding his plate with both arms, "but there's still a few meat pies to be had."

Nori spied out others at the inn and slipped a small jar of salt and another of pepper into his jerkin.

"What?" he said at Dori's grimace. "We may need them when we leave."

Bofur looked pained and tasted the food on his tongue. "We need them now." He pushed his plate away. "I'm not even sure what that was."

Ori propped his arms on the table and lost himself in his thoughts.

"What will it be like to live in Erebor, do you think?"

Balin blew out his breath.

"It will stink," he answered. "Years and years of decay and dragon stink, but Thorin won't rest until he puts it to rights."


Thorin looked out over the water and frowned, worried that Grace was still not well enough to leave. Something was amiss. He could feel it. He knew it despite the healers saying that she was on the mend. She was distant and spent too much time in her room. Time and again, he took her hand, and he fretted at her fragmented thoughts.

"You aren't yourself, my heart," he said. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

She shook her head and tried to smile but pushed her fingers against her temple instead. A few minutes later, she asked to go back to her room. He took her arm and escorted her. Her fingers were cold on his sleeve.

The next day, the townspeople went out to inspect Smaug's carcass, and they scavenged souvenirs and brought back her swords. Thorin and the dwarves also went out to see the remains of the dragon that had plagued them for so long. Meanwhile, Bard walked over to her, and they looked over the railing at the lake beyond. She wore a high-necked, blue velvet dress and black furred cloak, gifts brought by Legolas to replace her torn and burned clothes. Her armor was packed in a trunk.

"Do you intend to stay with the dwarves, my lady?" he asked. He bent over to close the distance between their heights. "I didn't think that living inside cold stone would suit you."

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the rough-hewn railing.

"I promised Thorin that I would help his people return home," she said. "The future after that is not decided."

He caught his breath and turned toward her, his black eyes betraying his excitement. So this was what being in love felt like! It was terrifying and exhilarating in one breath, and he struggled to keep his thoughts in the present and not leap ahead to imagining her being by his side as they entered his rebuilt city, and him carrying her across the threshold of their new home. He would not challenge Thorin, nor make any move against his claim, but she could change her mind.

"I'm the heir to throne of Dale," he said, "and now I have the means to rebuild it even greater than it was. If you'd rather live out in the sun and among the flowers and the trees you're welcome to stay with my people, then you could visit the dwarves as often as you like."

She looked out over the water and sighed. He picked at splinters in the railing while he waited for her to answer, his fingers unable to stop tugging and pulling at the wood.

"I thank you for your gracious offer, Bard," she said. "You are very generous, but I believe that Thorin would object to that arrangement."

He drew a deep breath and took his chance. His fingers stilled, and he turned to her.

"Staying with Thorin is your choice, my lady, but you're free to make other choices once you've kept your promise."

She looked up at him, now understanding his meaning. The darkly handsome man stood before her both nervous and eager, and she felt a wave of sympathy and friendly affection for him but no more. In fact, the almost constant attention of Middle-earth's male population was wearing on her. Thorin's fervent adoration was touching and very dear, and she was relieved beyond measure that the darkness she felt in him was gone. However, he was a dwarf and a passionate one at that. Balin explained when he had a moment alone with her, that some dwarves, a rare few, are struck with a passion so consuming that it would drive them insane if their love was not requited.

"We feared for his sanity for a time, Gracie," he said, "but it seems like things are progressing well enough except for what happened on the mountain, but he's conquered that."

"Has he?"

"Oh aye," he said. "Not to say that he won't ever be jealous again or be protective of you. Like I said, he'll be the warrior he is if any look at you the wrong way. It's his right as your suitor, after all, but his love is true. He only wants the best for you and not to see you hurt in any way. I'm sorry it came out so badly though. That surprised us all."

Bard cleared his throat, and she shook herself out of her thoughts and smiled at him by way of apology.

"I've never seen such courage and daring as you demonstrated," he said, and he presented her cleaned swords to her. "I've never seen a woman warrior before, and a most beautiful one at that."

He looked into her eyes with adoration, and she recognized his tender regard for her. Even though she wanted peace, she knew he deserved to be treated well, so she gathered her remaining energy to let him down carefully.

"There are many worthy women who fight in their own way for what is right and for whom they love," she said. "I did what I did because I love Thorin and his people, Bard, but I will always be grateful for what you did for me and value your friendship."

He nodded, hiding his crushing disappointment, and stiffened when Thorin walked up. The dwarf king glanced at Bard and Grace together and quashed his jealousy before it reached his eyes. He smiled at her, his eyes saying what he could not in front of a stranger. After putting her hand on his arm and squeezing it gently, she excused herself to rest. They watched her until she turned a corner.

"Is she well?" Thorin asked.

"Yes," Bard said, "but she still tires too easily." After a moment's hesitation, he faced his rival.

"I know I've no right to ask," he said, "but I want to know what your intentions are toward her and that they're honorable. At least then I can rest easier knowing that she will be well taken care of. I love her, Thorin, and if I can't win her hand, then at least I can make certain that you do right by her."

Thorin's face darkened and his mouth tightened.

The man's presumption! How dare he ask my intentions?

"Did you approach her?" he asked. "Did you touch her by chance?" He clenched his fists and puffed out his chest while he waited for the answer.

"I know what Dwarven courting braids mean," Bard said with an impatient wave of his hand, "and as I said before I'm an honorable man. I simply asked her what her plans were and offered her other choices." He faced Thorin confident that he did not cross the line. That he invited Grace to do just that was another matter.

Thorin took a step closer with his hand hovering over the pommel of his sword

"Other choices?" he said between his teeth . "What other choices exactly?"

Flashing blue eyes clashed with black.

"I merely offered her the hospitality of my city once it's rebuilt and she's kept her promise," Bard said with forced calm. It was the truth after all, but it was a bitter draught that she did not take him up on it. Thorin roared and unsheathed his sword, but Bard grabbed his arm.

"Don't push this beyond what it is," he said. "I did nothing to cause you to claim your rights." He sighed and put up his hands in surrender. "You understand, you must understand, that I can't help loving her, just as surely as you can't help loving her. No honorable man can stand before her and keep his heart to himself."

Thorin thrust his sword into its sheath and grabbed the railing as his chest heaved. It would not do to make a mortal enemy out of one's nearest neighbor and former ally, and he admitted the truth of Bard's words.

"Humph," he snorted in frustration, "you are in good company."

"Oh?" Bard asked. "Who else is in this exclusive club?"

Thorin looked up with chagrin. "Legolas and Prince Larin of Gondor."

Bard's eyes widened.

"You'd have a true rival in Legolas if he were a whit less honorable," Bard said, "but Prince Larin, that lack-beard?"

He worked himself into jealous froth that surprised and amused Thorin who agreed with his assessment. He watched with a smirk as Bard's jaw clenched and his eyes sparked with anger, and he realized then that though he may win Grace's heart and hand, in some ways Grace would be theirs, that the men who loved her would all work together somehow to protect her and keep her safe.

"He gave her the queen's ring without even telling her its significance," he said, baiting Bard further for his own entertainment.

"He what?" Bard said. "That …! That …!" Thorin grinned and then put up his hands.

"To be fair," he said, "he is a very young man, and he was overcome by her as we were. To be honest, I do not think I acted any better the first night I spent with her."

Bard's eyebrows raised, and Thorin cleared his throat.

"When she was injured and I kept watch over her."

Bard did not move, and Thorin yanked the collar of his coat up and around his neck.

"The night attendants from Lord Elrond also kept vigil," he added, noting the sudden and most unwelcome reversal of positions.

"Now, if I recall," Bard said, "you never answered my question." He folded his arms and lifted one brow while he waited.

"You were correct, you have no the right to ask," Thorin said, "but nevertheless I assure you that my intentions are honorable."

The two faced each other and, as Thorin turned to him, Bard saw not a competitor but the powerful King of Erebor.

"I want to make her my wife as soon as she will allow me," he said with fierce determination. "I want nothing less than for her to be my queen."

"And what does she want?" Bard asked matching his demeanor.

Thorin lifted his chin proudly. She wore his braids, and he smugly recalled all her expressions of tenderness and affection.

"As you see, she wears my braids and is allowing me to court her," he said with a triumphant edge to his voice, "me and no one else." Then his shoulders dropped. "But it still seems like an eternity," he said grudgingly, "and I wonder sometimes if I'll ever win her hand."

Bard nodded in understanding and hung his head.

"She said that she'll always value my friendship," he said in a dull voice.

They regarded each other and felt a surprising kinship over the frustrations of loving Grace. Thorin clapped him on the back as they looked out over the lake. The setting sun turned the water to sheets of gold and copper.

"Friendship," Bard repeated with resignation and a sigh.

Thorin mumbled something in sympathy, then looked down and smiled to himself.

Now that Smaug was gone, the dwarves could return home, and the next morning Thorin asked Balin, Gloin, and Oin to go to the Blue Mountains west of the Shire and prepare their people.

"Be sure to give our regards to Bilbo on the way," Thorin said with a genial smile. "I will stay here and oversee the repairs. We have much work ahead to be ready for our people to arrive in the spring."

Balin frowned.

"Of course I will go if you wish it, but I don't feel easy leaving while Gracie is still unwell," he said as he scratched his temple. "She isn't herself, and she isn't recovering as fast as I thought she would."

Thorin agreed and looked over at Grace with concern. She was talking with some of the women of the town and meeting their children who adored her. She was gracious and very kind but also sad and pale.

"I know," Thorin said while stroking his beard. "Of course, she lost much blood and since dragon poison has killed many outright, perhaps we are expecting too much, but all the same I feel uneasy myself."

Balin agreed and then leveled a skeptical gaze.

"I also have a charge from Lord Elrond that I can't honor if I'm not here," he said. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Thorin scoffed at his words

"I'm not a beardling that I need watching," he said. "I am my own dwarf, and I have learned my lesson. I will control myself."

"Aye, Thorin, you're a dwarf all right," Balin said, "and that's why you need watching with my Gracie, lesson learned or no."

"Do you think me without honor?" Thorin said. "I have never compromised her virtue nor would I ever."

Balin smiled and patted his arm.

"No laddie, but honor can forget to be on its guard at home," he said. "You are master here, and it'll be easier to forget that Gracie isn't yet yours when you're both living at Erebor."

Thorin sighed. His recent failure pricked his conscience, but he refused to allow Balin a total victory.

"I will send Dori in your stead but only because you are concerned for her health."

Grace rubbed her head and walked over the bridge to walk along the shore. She felt listless and tired and very confused by what the Master had said. She knew that she was bound by her promise, but she felt wretched that there were others who had perhaps a greater need that she could not help.

Am I harming some by helping others? What do I do?

Thorin left Balin to stretch his legs and saw her walking along the shore. He smiled as he watched her, but he soon grew concerned when he saw her pacing and wringing her hands.

"Grace!" She stopped and put her hands over her face. "Grace!" She dropped to the ground.

He hastened to her, picked her up in his arms, and trotted back to her room. Agathil watched as he laid her on her bed and pulled up a chair.

"Why are you not recovering?" he asked. "What am I missing? Speak to me, Grace, what am I missing?"

Enormous despair and terrible guilt washed over him. Her felt her pain as almost a physical blow and discerned that it was sharpest concerning the children here.

"Why is this happening?" he asked aloud as sweat broke out on his forehead from the emotional weight she bore.

Agathil peered at his face as he stared at Grace and made her decision.

"My lord, I know why she's not getting better."

Thorin stormed into the Master's office without introduction, his face as dark as thunder clouds and his mouth twisted in rage. He jabbed the point of his sword underneath the Master's chin and used it to lift him to his feet.

"The only reason, the only reason I do not run you through," he said, "is because you need to undo what you have done."

Just then Bard strode through the door with his hands balled into fists and his face contorted with anger.

"I see that Agathil told you as well," he said. Grabbing the Master's shoulders, they marched him to Grace's room.

After he left, she sobbed on Thorin's shoulder and held her hand out to Bard, who held it between his own as he kneeled before her.

"Thank you both," she said. "I felt so guilty, and I did not know what to do."

"Shhh, Grace," Thorin said. "It is over, and now you can get well."

Both stood so she could get some rest, but she took his hand.

"I want to leave as soon as I can," she said. "Take me to Erebor."