Wren wondered why the Dwarves were even fighting. In her understanding it had everything to do with their short temper and inability to listen, and nothing to do with any of the sides even knowing what the reason was. She had experienced enough of it from the Dwarf she had been most intimately familiar, and all she could do was to shake her head and pray to Maiar none of them sustained irreparable damage.

One of the guards of Dain Ironfoot flew across the room, his breastplate almost cracked by the blow of Oin's staff, and Wren saw Dwalin lunge on the other one, who hastily released Nori's arm.

Bofur was laughing loudly, placing a sensitive blow of the dull end of his pike-hammer at the back of another guard, toppling him over.

Nori was suddenly right in front of Wren, and she saw him pulling out a small bag with his tools from behind his belt.

"Master Nori, surely there were other ways..."

"Oh give them their fun, lass," Nori smiled widely with his bloodied lips, a clear print of a large fist blooming on his jaw, "We have not seen any gambol in two years." Wren felt her jaw slack. He was bleeding, but looked endlessly pleased.

"But the stone..." Wren started only to be shushed by the Dwarf, already on his knees in front of a keyhole that Wren had not seen appearing.

"Do not mention it. For all Dain knows we are sneaking the mistress of King of Dale into Erebor to spy on our treasury."

"What?" Wren squeaked, and the Dwarf gave her another grin.

"I might have gotten carried away paltering Dain into bringing me here." Wren pressed her bag tighter to her chest and prayed to Maiar more industriously.


The door clicked, and Nori rushed inside, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him. She had but a single moment to see the tussle behind her, Dwalin roaring, two guards hanging on him, Dain cutting Oin and Bofur under their feet with one swing of his axe, Wren noticed that the blade avoided both Dwarves, Oin was on the ground, two guards trying to restrain him, and then the door shut behind her with a loud clank. But not before Bombur squeezed into it.

The three of them stood in the dark, and then some noise came, and a lamp lit up. Wren saw Bombur's merry round face.

"We are missing a fight," he smiled widely to Nori, who chuckled and leaned heavily against the wall.

"The two of you will have to go without me, I twisted my foot like the last lulkh, running away from our liege."

Bombur clapped Nori's shoulder, and Wren suddenly threw her arms around Nori's neck. It was an odd impulsive gesture, but she suddenly realised that she probably would never see him again. She had no chance to say goodbye to the other Dwarves, he would have to receive all the gratitude and all the appreciation she felt towards the whole company.

"Thank you," she whispered and felt a large hand brush her back between her shoulder blades.

"You are not done yet, lass. Keep your gratitude for later." Wren only pulled him in tighter. There would be no 'later.'

"Farewell, Master Dwarf. And tell the others..." Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath in searching for words. Somehow she had not prepared any.

"It is all well, lass. We know." The Dwarf's voice was surprisingly coarse, and then he gently untangled her arms from around her neck. Wren took a step back and looked at him. A soft smile was playing on his lips, and then he nodded firmly. "Common, Bombur, time to go."

Wren turned away, blind from tears in her eyes, and followed the round Dwarf.


They walked through dark passages, yellow light softly swaying around his lamp. A thick long rope was wrapped around his body, Wren knew she would need it to go down a well, connecting the passage they were heading to and the chamber where the crevice was awaiting her.

"Watch your step, honourable healer, no one has walked this passage for ages. There is plenty debris..." Wren nodded though the Dwarf could not see her, and they walked in silence for several more minutes.

Just as Nori's schematics stated they found the well at the end of the passage, Bombur deftly tied a rope to the nearest column and after wrapping it around his middle he threw the end down into the darkness. Wren picked up the lamp he had carried before and made sure that her bag with the Arkenstone was secure across her torso.

She then turned around and gave Bombur a shaky smile. He opened his arms and she embraced him as well.

"It is alright, lass, quite alright…" Wren received another awkward pat on her back and stepped away from the Dwarf.

"Thank you, Master Bombur," she gave him a low bow, which he returned with grace in his round body, and she grasped the rope firmly, swung her legs down the well, and started slowly descending. According to the plans there were seven Dwarf heights between the level they were standing on and the narrow tunnel that would lead her to where she needed to go.

Wren was being careful, she had never had particular strength in her arms, and the rope was starting to burn her palms. She wrapped her legs around it as well. It was becoming harder, and she was watching over her breath, mindful of the strain she was placing on her body. For an instant her hands slipped, the fibers of the rope scraping on her skin, and she clutched at it, her legs squeezing it. She wore the same Elven travel attire she had crossed the Misty Mountains in twice, but even through the trousers she felt the heat lick her thighs from the rope.

After a few instants of careful movements she suddenly heard noise above. Wren looked up and saw lights flickering on the ceiling over the well.

"Pull it up!" She heard a distant bark of Dain Ironfoot, and suddenly the rope she was hanging on jerked. "Let go off the rope, potbelly!" The rope swayed, and Wren hissed. Her shoulder painfully met the stone wall, with uneven bricks and their sharp edges. "Let go off the rope, or Mahal forbid you will drop your little friend!" The rope was jumping frantically now, and Wren realised it was being wrestled out of Bombur's hands.

"Bombur! Let it go!" She yelled up, hoping he would let her fall down. She had estimated there were but two heights left till she would reach the bottom. Judging by the noise and the swears, the Dwarf was not achieving any results, and Wren twisted her body, trying to untie the rope from around herself. She struggled for a moment, and then let go of the lamp, letting it fall down.

She tried to surmise how far it was till the bottom and saw the lamp land and the light in it to die out. It seemed not that high, and she finally loosed the knot on the rope. It was now swaying from side to side, and she took a deep breath in, braced herself and unclenched her hands.


She had underestimated the height. And the rope that she assumed she had released from around her middle snatched on her right shoulder, pulling it out of it proper place, twisting her body, and she landed on the bottom with a short scream. The pain flashed through her arm and her shoulder, and she clenched her teeth and emitted a hissed swear. There was no feeling in the fingers, which meant the wrist was injured as well.

Gathering her will, she pulled her knees up and rolled on her stomach, cradling her injured arm. She scolded herself. Not only she had shown herself the last clumsy dimwit, she had also managed to injure her right arm. She was trying to understand how serious it was and with each instant she was feeling more and more concerned. The hand was cold, and Wren wondered if the arm was broken. A terrifying thought of losing dexterity in her surgical hand flashed through her mind, but she had no time to dwell on it.

"Get me torches… Ropes… What… Follow..." Wren could hear Dain Ironfoot's voice bouncing off the walls of the well, and she got up, swaying. She pushed the hand down into the bag to make sure the stone was still safely hidden in it, and relieved she hastily started walking as it had been discussed with the company.

She was grazing the wall to her left with the fingers of the uninjured arm, her head was spinning. There were also bruises and a few sensitive scrapes, and she shook her head clearing it. There was another door for her to sneak behind, and close after herself, cutting all possible followers away, and she pushed herself to walk faster. The tunnel was cold, and she felt her teeth grit. She had never been fond of darkness, but she continued her slow advance, recalling what the Dwarves explained to her she were to encounter. She was placing her trust in their judgement, which made her anxious, and yet she went on.

The door was small even for her, and Wren sneezed from the soft undisturbed dust under her feet. Her eyes would have been used to darkness by then, if only there were a single source of light. The blackness in front of her was impenetrable, but Wren knew what she would have seen had there been at least a flicker. Out of her bag she pulled a key Nori had obtained from an unknown source and holding it between her thumb and her index finger, she brushed other fingers around where the keyhole was to be.

At least something had gone without a hindrance in the cursed endeavour, and she pushed the key in. The lock opened smoothly and silently, by then Wren was hard to surprise by the craft of the Khazad, and she pulled the door half open.

She thought she heard some noise behind her, perhaps it was just her imagination and not the sound of Dwarven boots on the stone floor, but she quickly rushed into the room, and shut the door behind her.


Wren pressed her forehead to the cold of the door, exhaled sharply and turned around.

The hall in front of her was breathtaking. It was the epitome of Dwarven architecture, walls decorated with extraordinary carvings, thick columns supporting the tall ceiling. Wren could clearly see every little detail, as in its center, in the white stone floor lay the crevice into the fiery abyss.

It was uneven, as if indeed it was just a crack, like those one can see in the ground that had not seen any rain, ends narrowing, the middle looking as if the earth itself was opening from the heat and flaming light streaming from below.

There was another door in the opposite wall, the one she would have to leave through once the stone was tossed down. Wren walked around, trying not to look into the crevice, protecting her eyes, and she tried to open the door with the same key. It did, and she exhaled in relief.

Now she had a moment to ponder, and in a few careful steps she approached the opening in the floor. She felt the scorching air from below licking her skin, making her cheeks burn and her eyes water. There was also a low hum, as if pulsating through the floor and walls, as if blood rushing through the veins of the Mountain.

Wren pulled the Arkenstone out of her bag and stretched her hand with it over the edge of the abyss.


A/N: Check out my new story Letters to Your Heart, Axes to Your Scabbard. It will be my next multi-chapter, once Me Without You is done (The end is nigh, my lovelies! Dun-dun, duuuuuuuuhn! :P)

There will be the equal amount of drama and angst in the new one, but much less dead Thorin (OK, no dead Thorin :D) She is going on the quest with him, he has loved her sister since they were children.

Come along, my duckies! We will have loads of fun!

Summary:

After Erebor had been lost, and the Dwarves had abandoned hope to reclaim the Kingdom of Moria, Thorin, son of Thrain breaks off his betrothal to Lady Dania, daughter of Lyr, niece of Dain Ironfoot, the woman he had been exchanging letters in secret for years. What happens when her younger sister joins his company on the Quest for Erebor?