THE LINDEN TREE

Chapter 37

The stores that had been salvaged from Lindburg had now been brought to Helm's Deep; and a small garrison of men remained in Lindburg to protect the lady Ortrud and the villagers. But the lord Telramund, and the lady Helmwyn, and the Dwarves had now repaired to the Hornburg, for there, they were sure, the blow would fall sooner rather than later.

There was now a constant procession of carts and wagons bringing grain and goods to the shelter of Helm's Deep, and with the stores, there also came refugees. The Riders were stretched thin. The King himself, and both his sons, and every able man in the Mark now patrolled the Westfold; for they knew that harvest time was the most dangerous time of all. They were ever riding up and down the slow columns of wains, and ever watchful. They were on alert at nights especially, but neither did they rest much during the day, for they knew the Orcs were aware of their plans, and might be desperate enough to try anything.

Those who remained in the Hornburg had no easy time of it either; for the stores that arrived in the keep needed to be moved further into the caves, and the narrow doors and steep stairs of the stronghold had been intended for defence, not for ease of access. Luckily, Snorri's hoists came in useful one more, and allowed them to lower sacks of grain from the keep with little enough trouble.

A wall of quarried stone blocks had been raised across the entrance of the caves; and from there, men could have withstood an onslaught well enough. But as long as streams of goods were being hauled in, they had to leave a makeshift wooden gate in the wall. The Dwarves did not like this, for it was the one weak point in the defences; but there was nothing for it but to wait until a more permanent gate could be installed.

Riders arrived weary at the camp before the Deeping-Wall, and departed weary on their next patrol. Many men were stationed in the caves, to hold the various exits; and a guard now ever stayed inside the Hornburg, to protect the keep. Part of the camp was moved inside the Deeping-Wall, for that way did they expect an attack; but the greater part of the camp remained on the outside, on account of the horses.

Thorin had prevailed on Helmwyn to remain in the Hornburg; after all, he had reasoned, if the King and her brothers and her uncle and every other captain in the Mark were already riding out, she might as well remain there in relative safety. She had relented for his sake. But she had been on edge ever since the attack on Lindburg; and if she had slept in her boots before, she now slept in her armour, and woke at the slightest noise. She was weary, but driven by sheer willpower; and she managed the camp and the stores as efficiently as she could.

She attempted to bring some order into the incoming goods, and tried to keep a record of how much was brought, and whence; and Balin and Snorri helped with the hopeless endeavour, as the walls were now mended, and there was little else for them to do. But Helmwyn was at pains to assure the people that this was no tax; but that their produce would be kept safe from the Orcs, and would be shared among the dispossessed, and used to avert a famine.

In truth, she was relieved that Thorin's expeditions into the mountains seemed to have been put on hold indefinitely. If they had little privacy before, they had none now; but they were grateful at least to be together. Often in the daytime, they would take an hour or two off their respective duties; and Helmwyn would unbuckle her breastplate, and lay her head in Thorin's lap, and snatch a little sleep. He would stroke her hair, and watch with concern the little frown-line on her brow; and he cared not a whit that anyone saw them, as long as they did not wake her. But she would wake rested, and smile at him, and if no one were watching, she would kiss him. His presence soothed her, and gave her strength; and together they waited for the gathering storm.

Thorin knew his way around the caves by now, for he spent his days inside, seeing to the defences, and trying to keep the men's spirits up. He could see that the Riders did not take well to being confined underground, but grumbled, and asked why they could not be relieved; and kept telling them that it was best that they remain at their post, since they too had become familiar with the caves by now, and were less likely to get lost.

He made his way back to the little guardroom, which the Dwarves had taken to using as their headquarters inside the caves. They had all gathered there, and got a fire going, and shared a desultory midday meal; but it was dragging on, and they were in no particular hurry to return to what they had been doing, as there was now precious little for them to do – except perhaps for Snorri and Balin, who were vaguely helping with the paperwork.

The others greeted him with cries of "There you are! Where do you keep disappearing off to?"

"Every Dwarf needs a break," he replied evasively. Balin noticed a golden hair caught in Thorin's chainmail, but said nothing.

"A break from what?" asked Andvari. "It's not like there's anything much left for us to do."

"Aye," Hogni agreed. "The wall is as good as new – even better, if you ask me; the castle is mended, the caves are secure… why the hell are we still here?"

"Why, to help hold the caves!" said Thorin, as though that were the most natural thing in the world.

"Why should we sit around with these folk, holding their hands while they wait for the Orcs to attack?" growled Hogni.

"Aye, this was supposed to be a building job. There's been altogether too much fighting," said Regin, who hadn't done any.

"The other night was a close shave," said Snorri, who missed the comfort of Lindburg.

Dwalin and Balin exchanged a glance, and looked at Thorin. Clearly the others were not aware of the…recent developments. But Thorin stared aghast at his companions – it had not even occurred to him that the others might want to leave. He tried reasoning with them, but they remained impermeable to the argument that it would be dishonourable to abandon the horse-people in their hour of need.

"We don't owe them anything," said Hogni flatly. "But they certainly owe us!"

Andvari seconded that. "Aye, and I hope they won't try and wriggle out of it, saying sorry, we've got an Orc problem, can we pay later?"

The Dwarves began to squabble, and Thorin sighed, and wished he had remained in the keep; and Dwalin sat silent in a corner, nursing his drink, and thought wistfully of the lady Ortrud. And all the while Snorri blithely doodled in his notebook, devising a sanitation system for the caves.

Walda dismounted, and gave the reins of his horse to a squire, and went to embrace his sister. This proved a little more awkward than usual, as they both now wore a breastplate.

"Sister!" he roared, and pulled her into a bear hug. "Dear sister. You have your armour at last! Let me have a look at you!" He stepped back, and frowned. "What happened to your face?"

"Why," said Helmwyn, "what is wrong with my face?"

"There are …diamond-shaped marks on your cheek," said Walda, and hoped it was not some ghastly burn scar.

"Oh, that. I fell asleep," said she, as if that explained anything. She neglected to say that what she had fallen asleep on was Thorin's byrnie.

Walda studied his sister's face, and saw that there were dark circles under her eyes, too.

"Will you not return to Edoras?" he said gently. "You look exhausted."

"I cannot," said she. "I will not. There is still so much to do…"

Walda heard the sharpness in his sister's voice, and knew that she bristled at his concern, as she had always done. He changed the subject.

"You have already done so much. Look how this place has changed within a few months!"

Together they stood, and gazed at the Deeping-Wall. The great, new-quarried stones were expertly joined and fitted, and the fortress looked strong and impregnable, as it must have looked in days of old – grim and forbidding even in the noonday sun.

"This is truly astonishing work, sister," said Walda. "I must confess, I never would have believed that anything would come of your wild scheme of sending for Dwarves. And yet here we stand and look upon the Hornburg; and it is stronger than any living man has ever seen it!"

"I am glad the work pleases you, brother. But save your praise for the Dwarves! It is they you need to thank for this – and for much more besides." And Helmwyn took her brother's arm, and told him of everything the Dwarves had done for the Mark – the stonework, and the ingenious devices, and the fighting. Especially the fighting. But Walda saw that his sister's tired face brightened, and that her eyes were shining, and that her voice was passionate as she spoke of the deeds of the Dwarves; and the name of their prince - Thorin Thráinsson, the Oakenshield - was ever on her lips.

The lord Thorin this, and the lord Thorin that. Helmwyn was as excited as a young filly; and Walda marvelled to see her like that. "Sister," he said, and turned to look her in the eye. "Is there something you are not telling me?"

But Helmwyn beamed at him. "How well you know me, brother. Or is it that obvious?" But before he could answer, she went on. "Aye, there is something I must tell you. I have glad news, brother!"

Oh dear, thought Walda; and he felt something tighten in his belly. "Is this anything to do with the lord Thorin?"

"It is indeed," said Helmwyn.

Walda tried to remember which one the lord Thorin had been. "Was he not that proud, dark-haired fellow? The one with the scowl?"

Helmwyn laughed. "The very one!"

Oh dear, thought Walda. "And you love him?" he ventured weakly.

"Aye, I do," said Helmwyn. "Wish me joy, brother!" And with a slight clang of breastplates, Helmwyn threw her arms around her brother's neck; and so she did not see the way his handsome brow furrowed with concern. Walda was utterly flummoxed. True, the lord Thorin was a prince. But he was a workman! But he was a prince. And a great warrior. But he was a Dwarf!

He did not know what to make of this, and began to worry that his sister was a little crazed. He unwrapped her arms from around his neck, and looked at her once more.

"Have you told Father?" he asked.

"Not yet," answered Helmwyn. "But I beg you, if you see him, say nothing, for I would tell him the news myself! I know he will be as glad for me as you are!"

Oh dear, thought Walda.

Thorin and Dwalin sat together on the Deeping-Wall, watching the chasm, and the mountains beyond, with their night-keen eyes. They had wrapped their cloaks about their shoulders to ward off the chill; but they lit no fire, to preserve their night-vision. They would have smoked, had they had any pipe-weed left; but they had quite run out, and so they made do with mugs of ale.

They sat in silence, as they usually did during those long watches; for they were as brothers, and their camaraderie needed few words. But there was something on Dwalin's mind; and after a while he rumbled, and asked Thorin:

"So…you and the little lady…?"

"Aye," said Thorin.

"Good for you, mate. Good for you," said Dwalin. "She's a great lass," he added.

"Aye," said Thorin; "that she is."

Dwalin was quiet for a moment, and drank some more; but then he asked:

"Thorin?"

"What?"

"…What's it like? With a taller woman?"

"Shut up," said Thorin; but he grinned into the darkness.

A/N: So, boys and girls, that was a bit of a breather. Calm before the storm, sort of thing. Our protagonists will be back next week, and kicking Orc buttock in high epic mode; by which time, hopefully, Real Life will no longer have me running around like a headless chicken.