'She has a high fever, your majesty.' Oin worried deeply about his queen. A few days ago, two days after the delegations had left the Blue Mountains, Brann had come down with a fever and it had gotten even worse since then. Brann was pale and barely conscious. Thorin had not left her side for days and neglected his duty as a king. Dis worried, not only about her sister in law, but also about Thorin and his kingdom. The news of Branns pregnancy as well as her fever had already reached Ered Luin and lord Mara and his family probably already planned with Branns death...or even worse, plotted to quicken her death.

'How did this happen?' Dis asked Oin. 'She was fine, you looked after her yourself.'

'I don't know, lady Dis.' Oin sighed. He had no idea why Brann had gotten sick so fast and without apparent reason. 'All I know is that if I cannot fight that fever the queen and the unborn dwarfling will be in severe danger.'

Dis and Oin looked at Thorin, who sat at Brann side like in all the days before, pale as death and with dark rings under his eyes.

'If she dies...' Dis could not even speak it out loud. Thorin would break apart if he would lose Brann and his unborn dwarfling. He had lost so much already. They could not afford to lose Thorin. Fili was his heir, but he was still a small dwarfling and the line of Durin would be broken to soon. Dis cursed the fact that the lines of the dwarves could only be carried on by the males of the family.

'We have to find out what happened, only then I can find a cure.' Oin stated and sighed. This would not be easy.

Thorin looked at his wifes pale face. He did not understand what had happened. Two days after the delegations of men and dwarves had left Brann had begun to feel tired and sick, but both had thought that it were only symptoms of her pregnancy.

'Thorin...' is was a quiet whisper, but Thorin immediately focused on his wife.

'You're awake!' Thorin was relieved to hear his wifes voice.

'Thorin...listen to me...' Branns whisper was hoarse and she had difficulties to form words. 'The men from Tharbad...sick...they are in danger, help them.'

'What are you talking about?' Thorin frowned. He would not waste a thought about the men when is wife was sick. 'You need your strength, Brann. Don't worry about them.'

'You don't understand...they were sick as they came here...' Brann fell back into unconsciousness after she had pressed out the last words.

Thorin sat there for a few seconds, barely able to contain his despair. The delegation from Tharbad, the men he had invited, had done this to his wife.

'Oin!' Thorin tried not to yell as he turned towards his head healer. 'Brann told me that the men from Tharbad had been sick as they came here, has anyone of them seen you while they were here?'

'No, none of the men was in the infirmary.' Oin shook his head, but now that Thorin mentionned the men from the sea port Oin had a terrible suspicion.

'The pest?' Dis was speechless. 'But how...?'

'Tharbad is a sea port, my lady Dis.' Oin explained to Dis and Thorin. 'They are always the first to be exposed to sickness from distant lands.'

'So you mean to say that these men have brought the pest into my mountain?' Thorin was furious. 'Why is Brann the only one who is sick?'

'She is the only human in this mountain, Thorin.' Dis closed her eyes as she thought of the consequences. 'Dwarves are immune to most sicknesses of men. And Brann talked to the men from Tharbad during the festivities. We should warn the men from Gondor, Dunland and Rohan, lets hope that the sickness not also spreads in their lands.'

Thorin covered his face with his hands, he had to act quickly. 'Send scouts to Rohan, Dunland and Gondor, as well as Tharbad. Now!'

Thorin bellowed and watched as the guards rushed away to fulfill his order. With a determined look the king turned back to his healer. 'Is there anything we can do for Brann?'

The older healer shook his head. 'If it truly is the pest, then all we can do is pray to Mahal.'

In Rivendell, the last homely house of the elves in the west, Lindir paced up and down on the big balcony facing west. News had reached Rivendell, that the pest had broken out in Tharbad and that the queen of the Blue Mountains was laying on her sickbed as well as some men from Gondor and Rohan. The men from Dunland had been spared of the decease, only the Valar knew why. Thanks to the fast reaction of king Thorin the sickness had stopped to spread quickly and the few who were sick became the best medical treatment. But every help had come too late for Tharbad. The dwarven scouts which had arrived in Tharbad a week ago had found only a devastated town, a few men who had lost everything and did not know how to handle all the dead.

But Lindir worried more about the queen of the Blue Mountains. He remembered their brief encounter a few months ago and frowned. He remembered her curiousity and her open mind. The elves of Rivendell had looked upon the Blue Mountains from afar and admired the diplomatical work of the queen. It seemed to be her influence that the Blue Mountains reached out for other kingdoms, but apparently her influence was not enough to convince king Thorin to reach out for the elves. Lindir remembered the courtladys behaviour towards him and the hatred in her face as she looked at the elves, but he also remembered that the queen had scolded her for it. To know that the queen was figthing the pest, and that while being pregnant, was harder on Lindirs heart than he had expected.

'What troubles you, my friend?' lord Elrond emerged from the shadows. 'Your mind seems far away...does it linger with the horrors of the sickness which has erased Tharbad?'

Lindir smiled at his lord, who always seemed to read peoples minds. 'The queen of the Blue Mountains...she is sick...and pregnant. She might not survive this.'

'Arwen told me that you have met the queen on the road to the Grey Havens. She seems to have made quite an impression.' Elrond smirked at his young advisor.

'She wanted to know more about elves, I saw the curiosity in her eyes. So unusual for someone who lives with dwarves.' Lindir mused.

'Her loss would destroy the king.' Elrond knew only little of king Thorin, but the love between him and his queen had reached his ears. His daughter Arwen adored the royal couple from afar and tried to get to know as much about them as possible. Elrond knew only one thing. The dwarves of the Blue Mountains had to endure so much pain in the past and their power of endurance was essential to the future of Middle Earth. Something told Elrond that Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, had a destiny to fulfill in the future. But that would not be possible if his wife died and the dwarf king would lose all hope. Looking at his advisor, Elrond knew what to do. They still had some elvish medicine from the First Age, herbs that were nearly extinct, in the infirmary of Rivendell. Elrond used them wise and he would send some of them to the queen. He felt bad about not beeing able to help them all, all those men who had gotten sick. But he could not save them all.

'This is all my fault.' the fever was taking its toll on Brann. When she was awake she had to endure massive pain and the worry about her unborn child drove her mad.

'Shhhh...' Thorin cooled his wifes forehead with a cold cloth. 'Nothing of this is your fault.'

'It is, Thorin.' tears fell down Branns face. 'It was my idea to invite all these men from the surrounding kingdoms. I brought this misery over us. I have brought this over our child.'

Thorin determinately took his wifes hand. 'None of this is your fault, my love. Listen to me!' he exclaimed as Brann shook her head. 'This is nobodys fault, do you hear me? You have to fight this, my love. You have to fight, promise me!'

But Brann did not hear him anymore, she was caught back within her fever, her husbands voice fading into oblivion.

'If we are lucky then the queen will be dead within the week.' Lord Mara rubbed his hands. His wife and daughter sat at his side, both with eyes shining of excitement. 'Her influence on king Thorin has backfired nicely. Men are weak. This sickness is the best proof. We dwarves remain untouched by it and the men die like flies. What an irony that the queen brought this over herself with her greed for influence over us.'

'When she is gone you will be free to go back to king Thorins side again, Dara.' lady Asif smirked wickedly and glanced at her daughter. 'You will ease his pain.'

While the dwarves of Ered Luin plotted against the queen of the Blue Mountains, an elven rider rode down the roads towards the Blue Mountains. He stopped before his horse set foot onto dwarven territory. Hidden in the shadows of the forest he waited.

Dwana needed fresh air. The whole mountain was in shock, for their queen had fallen into a deep slumber, not waking up for days now. Oin did his best, but he could do nothing more than keep her alive in giving her tea and broth to drink. King Thorin was devastated and numb in his grief and Dwalin, Balin and Dis tried to keep the mountain from falling apart. Dwana worried for her queen and she missed her. But apparently everyone was busy with their own thoughts and ignored the young dwarf. Only Thorin Stonehelm tried to ease the pain Dwana felt. He was also the one who accompanied Dwana out of the mountain and down the road to the markets.

As they rode down the road on their ponies they were intercepted by a tall rider. Thorin Stonehelm drew his sword and positioned himself between Dwana and the rider. The hooded elf held up his hands to show them that he was unarmed, but as he pulled off his hood he felt the tip of Thorins sword at his throat. Cursing, the elf asked himself why lord Elrond had sent him on this mission.

'I mean you no harm, master dwarf.' the elf stated calmly. 'But I need to give something to the queens maid.'

The word maid woke Dana up from her petrified state. 'I am queen Branns courtlady. What do you want, elf?'

The elven rider gave Dwana a small bundle. 'My lord Elrond gave me this to give to you. Its a mixture of herbs and elven medicine. Please, give this to your queen. Best in form of tea.'

'How can I be sure that its not poison?' Dwana asked the elf.

'Your queen will die. If its poison then it will only kill her faster.' the elf answered arrogantly and turned to ride away. Curse the stubborness of dwarves.

Dwana looked at the bundle in her hand and frowned. As much as she hated it, the elf was right.

'Not a word about this to anyone.' Dwana looked at Thorin pleadingly.

'We can't do this, Dwana.' Thorin was looking after the elf, who had disappeared into the woods. 'We need to tell the others where the herbs came from.'

'No. I will tell Oin, but I will not tell the others.' Dwana was determined. 'Brann was right, the hatred between elves and dwarves will cost us too much. I will not let this hatred cost us her life. Promise me, Thorin, promise me that you will not say a word. I will chop of your beard if you do, you know that I could!'

Oin was surprised as Dwana rushed into his infirmary with a bundle of herbs and told him to brew a tea. He was even more surprised as she told him who had given it to her and promised to keep quiet. He knew alot about the elven abilities to heal and did not wait a second before he gave Brann the tea. Brann was in a bad condition and Oin worried about the unborn dwarfling. The queen fought for her life and the life of her unborn child, but she about to lose the fight. Oin hoped that the elven medicine had not come too late.

Bree

'The situation is worse than we thought, my lord.' a city guard stood before the mayor, shivering and barely on his feet. 'Half of the city guards are sick and the other half is injured. The orcs have been informed of our weakness, they attack every night. We cannot hold them off much longer.'

The mayor of the town buried his head in his hands. 'Send word to the king of the Blue Mountains. We need help.'

Only few days later a caravan set out from Bree towards the Blue Mountains. King Thorin had answered quickly and had offered the men to take shelter inside the Blue Mountains. Since the dwarves were immune to the pest, there was no danger coming from the sick men of Bree. Only the queen would be isolated from the rest of her kin. The mayor of Bree did not expect the queen to get back on her feet ever again. No good news had spread concerning her wellbeing. They had taken everything of worth with them and the caravan only moved slowly. The dwarves had warned the men that the roads were dangerous and that they should wait for dwarven reinforcement, but the mayor wanted to leave the town as fast as possible. The rangers who had supported the city guards had moved to the Shire and helped the halflings against the orcs and wargs which still tried to cross their borders. Hence, the caravan was badly protected as the first wave of orcs hit the travelling men. Many men, women and children had been slaughtered before the dwarven reinforcement reached them and Thorin, who led the dwarves himself, felt as if set back in time, back to the horrors of Azanulbizar. Wounded and dead everywhere, just that in this case the wounded were no soldiers, but mostly women and children. Many of the men had died trying to protect their families, or what was left of them.

The dwarves managed to fight back the orcs and secured the caravan as good as they could.

'We need to reach the Blue Mountains before sun set.' Thorin adressed the mayor of Bree urgently. 'The hills will be swarmed by goblins at night.'

'We have too many wounded.' the mayor of Bree was devastated.

'Get the wounded on the carts.' Thorin knew that many wounded would not survive the night, but they could not linger. 'Follow us, quickly!'

With the help of the dwarves the caravan made it to the Blue Mountains where the healers already waited for them. Oin was still with Brann and would stay with her to prevent to be the carrier of the sickness. But his staff was well trained and tended to the men immediately. Still, the men of Bree had many dead to mourn. They had lost three dozen people in the orc attack and five of the wounded had died in the retreat to the mountains. Oins healers were about to get the wounded into the infirmary as Thorin passed a man who keeled beside a little girl.

'Thorin?' the man whispered hoarsely and Thorin turned around to look into the shocked face of Dorn. 'Thorin, is that you?'

The dwarves around them were aghast that the man adressed their king in that personal way, but Thorin knelt down at his side immediately.

'Dorn!' Thorin looked at his friend in shock. The little girl was his youngest daughter Margeret. 'Where are Elsa and Rose?'

Dorns eyes filled with tears and Thorin regretted his question the moment the words had left his mouth. 'They are dead. Thorin, my girls are dead...' Dorn whispered and could barely detain his sobs. 'Margeret is all I have left and she is dying, too...Please, Thorin, you have to help us!'

Thorin shared Dorns pain over the loss of Elsa and Rose. For a moment the dwarf king saw the smiling faces of his neighbour and her daughter in his mind and remembered the laughs they had shared with him and Brann. He did not even want to imagine how devastated Dorn had to feel at the moment, although Thorin knew the feeling of grief too well. If he thought about losing Brann and the unborn dwarfling...no, he would not think about this, he had to be strong. For Brann, their dwarfling and his friends.

'You are safe now, Dorn.' Thorin assured his friend and laid his hand on Dorn shoulder. 'The healers will take good care of you.'

'Where is Brann?' Dorn asked Thorin and was alarmed as he saw the pain in Thorins face.