The blonde woman changed the bandages around the Sun-Cheng shaman apprentice, noticing it was healing well and with no sign of infection. Without industrial antibiothics, she wondered how it was possible, but then, humankind would not exist at all if there were not ways to avoid bacterial action before Alexander Fleming. She laughed at herself at the tought of BF/AF, Before Fleming/After Fleming. After throwing the dirty bandages in the proper bucket, she ruffled the huge snow dog, that kept beside his master, around the ears, and left for the next cot, but the dwarf lying there had been tended already.

Washing her hands in a basin on a counter halfway of the room, she looked at the sleeping man in the corner further from Chao and was glad to see his breath was even, his chest rising and falling comfortably despite his broken ribs. He had been unconscious most of the time, but had been calmer after Aragorn had been there the day before. Estel, she should call him Estel, Gwendolin tried to convince herself, still with the idea of an autograph in her mind. She had been there when the future king of both Arnor and Gondor (whatever that meant, she watched the movies years ago) had been there and imposed his hand over the elderly one's brow, muttering softly in a language she didn't understand but sounded very alike to what Aredhel spoke with Legolas and Tauriel. Estel did this several times along the past two days, and per Wang's request did the same to Chao, but carefully explaining there was no certainty it would help 'him', as 'he' was not under the same rules as Estel's own kin.

Brannen (that was his name) slept, or wathever, his shoulder long graying hair still with a bit of brown to show what it should have been like in years before. His features were strong and grim, some scars here and there, a month-long beard gracing his chin in an almost charming way. She wished he would get well, death in battle was not something she would get used to even if she stayed in Middle-earth the rest of her life, which would not happen, of course. Just some more weeks and she'd take a ride with Wolfram and Lily to Indonesia, and then he would help her to get back to San Diego, including explanations for her absence and how she ended that far away from Heathrow airport. The NerdNet guys would find a way, Wolfram told her.

A movement on the remaining cot caught her attention, and she turned to see a smiling Ulfir looking at her. Óin had kept him under observation longer than he deemed necessary, because, after all, he was human, and human did have softer bones, he said, which made their brains weaker too. She laughed internaly at the idea of weaker brains and smiled back at the man.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!"

"Good morning, my favourite healer!"

"How're you feeling?"

"Blessed by your presence." She weaved off his usual flirt. "Now, before you start to ask, here goes my checklist: my name is Ulfir, son of Ulfar, trainee ward of the royal families, hailing to King Bard the Bowman, of Dale, in allegiance to King Kíli Elvenblood Under the Mountain." He side smiled at her. "I'm also prisoner of Gwendolin Browne, the healer assistant who is a seamstress that came form the world of our queen and thinks all of this is madness; I also remember you love to ride horses and to read, and that you have a ring that belonged to your father; and that you like wine better than ale; and that you sometimes wish your nose was smaller because other people teased you about it when you were at highschool, whatever it is; and that you felt proud for the costume you made for the annual fashion show at your school, whatever a fashion show is; and…"

"Hey, boy, you were supposed to show you memory of recent things about your own life, ok?"

"But, Gwen…" The man of Dale looked at her with puppy eyes. "The only relevant thing that happened to me recently was you!"

She shook her head at his usual flirt, being sure it was his ordinary way of treating girls.

"Im glad you recovered your memory as far as the banquet."

"Now that I remember some of the things you told me about you in the banquet, you can tell me about the things you didn't tell me yet, can't you?"

Ulfir's broad smile teased Gwendolin, who smiled back more shyly.

"I'm here to help mister Óin with the wounded ones, not to entertain someone who is in perfect shape again."

"Who told you I'm in perfect shape? Look, my head is still sore!"

He pointed at the place on his head that got the worst in the crash with the orcs. Gwendolin came to his side and unwrapped the bandage, where only some herbs tarnished it's colour.

"Óin told me. After lunch you are to be released from our care."

"Is it really so?" Ulfir's voice showed his disappointment. "I could hurt myself over and over again if it were to be cared for by you."

A muffled laughter to their side made both look. It was the dúnedain with broken ribs that was unable to keep his amusement to himself.

"If this is the best flirt you're able, lad, you'll better to work harder to convince a girl to take care of you."

Both smiled at the elderly dúnedain, and Gwendolin hurried to his side.

"Glad to see you awake, mister Brannen, I'll fetch a healer in no moment. How're you feeling? Do you want some water?"

"Now I see why that lad is so willing to be hit again. I'd too, to be tended by so a caring soul. I accept your water, milady, though you know my name and I don't know yours."

"Ah, erm, it is Gwendolin, sir, no need for miladies or any titles, ok?"

"Ok." His voice was still hoarse from the lack of use in previous couple of days. "No need for misters and sires, too."

She handled him a can of water and helped his head up, as she was unsure if his torso should be allowed to be moved.

"Thank you, Gwendolin."

"You are welcome, s… Brannen." They exchanged small smiles. "I'll get Óin or any other healer that's nearby, and I's sure Ara…" She cut herself short at yet another slip of her tongue. She didn't know if Aragorn walked under his own name already, but if not, she didn't want his comrade to question why she knew it. "Erm, Estel will be glad to know you are awake. He spent many an hour here, praying, I would say, and calling your name."

The dúnedain smiled lightly and nodded.

"Yes, that's him. Tell him he called, and I came."

She nodded and made to leave, weaving a hand to Ulfir and the Sun-Cheng shaman as a good bye. The black haired dwarf was knoked down with some of Óin's potions, as usual, else he insisted he was right as rain and would try to leave. Óin didn't want this to happen for some days yet, until he was sure no infection had taken place. The risk of amputation was not over yet.

As soon as she stepped out of the room the huge silvery dog of the north was at her heels, literally. It had begun the day before, and the broken father of Chao told her it must be the unconscious girl's wish. How a comatose person could communicate with a dog was beyond Gwendolin's comprehension, but then so was the logic of being in a world known by her only as a fantasy movie.

"Here, doggie! If we make it fast we can have some treats from the wedding party, would you like it?"

Liao Wang shook its tail and ran after her, tongue lolling out in happiness as if he were invited for a stroll.

000ooo000

Iris thanked mentally Gwendolin for the dress perfectly shaped to her body, in colours that favored her fiery red hair and proportions that made her look astounding, The hobbit woman shily stepped into the banquet hall, holding Bilbo's hand in hers so tightly it hurt him. She knew it was part of the dwarven uses that the newlywed couple should mingle in the third day of the party as if nothing had happened the day before, and, really, most of the guests were so drunk they didn't even remember the newlyweds' faces. Which was good, in a way; mostly for the brides, it made them fell less awkward, because everybody knew what was supposed to have happened the day before. She winked to Primula, who winked back, her smile a little more daring, because she really enjoyed all the time she had with Drogo along the previous day; her womanly sacrifice, as it was called in the Shire, had been performed back in Long Lake, almost costing their lives in a possible drowning. But now they were there, happily unashamed, and the result of their daring was there, inside her womb, being nourished and growing a little bit every day, to what would be a complete joy in some months.

Gwendolin had designed Primula's 'day after' gown to be light, comfortable, with a strand of fabric flowers cascading from her left shoulder to the opposite side and spreading over her bosom like the very spring of the Shire was to decorate her clothes. Primulas, lots of silken primulas, dyed the Valar knew how, with dwarven chemistry or human technology, it didn't matter. But primulas decorated Primula's gown, and it was beautiful.

The light rose tones of her gown kind of emphasized Iris' own dress, a sky shade of blue that matched her eyes and only made Bilbo recall an afternoon at Rivendell when he almost believed Iris was going to be betrothed to Fíli. Now he could see the foolishness of the idea, but then, only some months of his journey and a forthnight of having known her… How could he imagine they were talking about Kíli and Ellen? And now, Fíli's absence was a dull ache…

"Where is Lily?"

Iris asked, upset for not seeing her sister around; she imagined the incident with the dragon shaped cake would not result in a really serious punishment, but where…

"Aunty is sick."

Fíli stated bluntly, shoving a spoon of caramel pudding into his mouth.

"Sick? What do you mean?"

Iris almost panicked; dwarves were not supposed to get sick that easily, were they?

"Oh, Iris flower dear, I was to tell you." Ellen observed to her niece. "It looks like Lily got stonepox along with Knee and Frérin. They're in the infirmary."

"What in goodness name is stonepox?"

"Ah, well, do you remember chickenpox?"

"Yep…?"

"So, stonepox is a disease that reminds it a little; it is endemic, I supose virotic, among dwarwen youngsters, that usually occurs around their adolescent spurt, what is quite expected for my boys… but as Lily is a dwarf-lass that never had contact with this virosis before…"

Iris had to control herself not to outburst with laughter.

"So, Lily… my older sister… is in the infirmary with an adolescent disease?"

"Erm, well, so it seems."
"That's not true, and I've told you so!" Kíli intervened, in a funny state between drunk and exhilarated by the party and the presence of his 'little-sister'. "I myself had stonepox only at fifty-nine, even though Fíli had it at thirty-two."

"That's because you were always overprotected and at the first sign of Fíli getting ill Dís always sent you to Ylm to spend some days."

"Ellen!"

"That's just what your mother told me, she admitted it."

Iris giggled and Bilbo laughed along.

"And what more happened while we were… busy?"

"You missed a lot, but I can't say you would be better off if you hadn't. For instance, Beorn almost granted us the international incident with the Sun-Cheng we're trying so much to avoid, but I can't say it was totally his fault."

"What do you mean?" Bilbo looked at Beorn, who was at a table close to the honey mead barrel, accompanied by the Sun-Cheng leader and his First-Fisher, all of them seemingly in good terms with each other and with the honew mead too.

"See, as a part of the Soon-Cheng mourning process, they have a taboo time in which the name of the deceased one is not spoken, and they were talking about the fisher's brother and speaking highly of his hunting skills."

Ellen took the tread Kíli began.

"It happened that Bofur – by the Valar, it had to be Bofur! – asked them if all white bears were as huge as the one they brought the fur, and can imagine Beorn's reaction at the mention of bear fur…"

"Dear me, don't you say…"

"Yes, I do!"

"Wow! Beorn was scary enough at the Battle of Five Armies, and that that he was at our side…"

"I can tell you that that was 'only' a bersek Beorn, while yesterday he was kind of…" Ellen weaved her hands, fighting for words.

"Hulked?" Iris offered.

"Hulked! A precise definition. I can tell you, if it weren't for Radagast and Beorn's squirrel, I don't know how much would have been left from the Sun-Cheng."

Kíli took the chance to make a colourful description of the almost a battle between bear and bear hunters, the North-easterlingas scared to death by Beorn's metamorphosis and rage. Sham, the master fisher, had been thrown across the banquet hall and almost gone to make company to his deceased brother if he hadn't fallen atop of Bombur; Tsui had faced the huge black bear with awe and fear and tried to express his worshiping of him chanting a word of his own language over and over again, something that sounded like 'Shardik, Shardik, Shardik…', but Beorn was not interested in Tsui's chanting and was about to come for his head when Radagast stepped between them, arms raised and shaking his staff like a madman – alternative which was not completely discarded, by any accounts. The black squirrel jumped atop Radagast's hat and begun to make angry squeaks and shrieks to gain his friend's attention, with no success until he turned his back to him and bristled his tail.

"Now tell me, master burglar, what would be your reaction at a crazy brown wizard shaking a staff with a black squirrel for a crown, showing his private parts in the most unashamed manner?"

Bilbo shook his head, trying and failing to get free of the mental image he made on the description.

"Ugh, I think I would run away." He considered the situation a bit more. "Or roll on the floor laughing."

Iris began to laugh even so much her belly hurt and tears came out of her eyes, to a point Bilbo got worried.

"Sweetie, what is happening?"

"Nothing… I just…" She said when she was able to breathe again. "I recalled a movie where a lemur king has a crown made of leaves and a small lizard attached to it, and he sings and dances something like 'I like to move it, move it'…"

Ellen immediately caught the reference and started to laugh as madly as her niece, making Kíli to worry as much as Bilbo.

"Are our wives just gone crazy?"

The hobbit just opened his arms in a gesture of defeat.

"I don't know, mine has always been a bit crazy."

The dearf nodded his agreement.

"It must be a family kink, then…"

"Probably…"

When the women regained control over their outburst of laughter, Iris wiped her eyes and stated.

"But they seem to be at good terms now."

"Good terms? That would be an understatement!"

"What do you mean?"

Kíli wiped the ale from his mouth with the back of his hand and elightened his little sister.

"The Soon-Cheng have a legend about skin changer white bears being kind of divine, so they started to worship Beorn as soon as he was calm enough as not to try to kill them; it left him completely off-guard, moreover when Tsui Wei Xiu told him his grandfather claimed to have seen one of these when he was young. Beorn believed to be the last of his race, but he didn't know there were skin changers in the north, and now he intends to travel north with them to see if he finds someone to marry."

"Wow, that would be nice!"

"Really! Can you imagine, a brood of fluffy Beornings?"

"Hmm. The east side of the Misty Mountains would be a lot more safe, I deem."

"Yes. If you are not an orc or a goblin!"

000ooo000

Later that day Iris took her time to visit her sister and cousins in their room at the infirmary, all of them complaining for having to stay abed for a couple of days. The chess board had been brought to grant them a little entertainment, and they took turns at it, to keep the boredom away. Not that it was possible to be bored with Knee and Frérin telling their little adventures to Lily, and they were hungry listeners of what she could tell of her own world, as it was their mother's world too, and it was funny for them to imagine Ellen as a human.

The sun was getting low outside when their fewer rose again and the grayish dots on their skin begun to itch. In Óin's opinion, time to take a bath, some medicine and to sleep, to what the three complained, to no avail. Iris had just left their room when she noticed Gwendolin inside the next room, just finishing to tend the Shaman's son.

"Hello, Gwen, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same, beautiful bride!"

Iris giggled.

"I'm visiting my sister and a couple of cousins, they've got a kind of chickenpox, for what I"ve been told. Nothing a couple of days won't fix, but it is better if they are kept away from my remaining cousins."

"Oh. And isn't it dangerous that they spread it among the ailing ones? I'm sure a virosis wouldn't help any of them."

"Óin said that no, it doesn't get other races and all the dwarves in here had it already. It's just excess of care, it seems, but with the little ones around they would not be able to rest, too."

They sat on the cot that had been freed from Ulfir the previous day and chatted quietly, so not to disturb the patients. They had built quite a friendship in Gwendolin first days at Erebor, as after the dungeon incident Ellen insisted that the woman should be hosted in the royal dwellings, and being close in age they had lots of things in common.

"I know how it is, once I got a pneumonia and it was a pain in the guts for the nuns to keep the younger children away from my bedroom, it was like someone sick is more interesting than anything else in the world."

"I still cant believe you lived most or your life in an orphanage. I mean, I thought little blonde girls use to be adopted quite easily, prejudices apart."

"Maybe. I never understood it really, my nuns never mentioned adoption processes for me. It is ok for me now, but there were times when I wished for a family different from them, people to call Mom and Daddy, you understand?" Iris nodded. "Of course my nuns turned out to be a kind of family to me, but, you know, someone you can say, my father is like that, my mother uses to be that way… But I think I'm better off than several children I knew who had been separated form their parents because of abuse, beatings and even worse."

The hobbit agreed and told a little about herself, as it was not that usual to find someone with whom she could share the feeling of not having known her mother and be a normal person despite it.

"I never knew my mother, either. She died soon after I was born. Not to have known my mother was bad, but worse yet was to have people pitying me for it. Ouch!"

"Yes, I can relate. Mostly after I left the orphanage to live on my own, I mean, when I begun to be around people who didn't know it beforehand."

"As if not having known my mother should define me."

"Exactly!"

"Sometimes I must bit my tongue when people who knew my mom say things like 'oh, you have your mother's hair', but I learned to deal with them even when they thought I didn't know what to be a woman meant. You see, I had a female reference in my aunt, and for what you tell me your nuns are just as fantastic."

Gwendolin smiled at the mention.

"Yes, they are. They took care of me in a way I didn't see them care about any other kid in the orphanage. I don't know, they don't talk much about it, but I think is has something to do with my mother having asked them personally to take care of me, not a social worker bringing in yet another child from a disrupted home. Not that they didn't care about them, or that they didn't care about me, it just… was different."

"So, they knew your mom? Why did she leave you in the orphanage, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No problem. Yes, they did, my mom was very sick and brought me to the orphanage, she had only time to tell them my name and she died. It was not possible to find out who she was, though. Funny you mentioning your hair is like your mom's, the nuns say she was blonde like me, but had dark eyes." She fingered the ring in the chain around her neck. "So, all I have from my father is the colour of my eyes, and this ring my mom gave the nuns to keep for me; she said it was all she had from my father. And from my mother I have only the colour of my hair, I don't even know her name."

A hoarse voice startled them, and his words made Gwendolin's world turn upside down.

"Her name was Marcia Owens and this ring is mine."