Werna woke up; and without opening her eyes she pushed her hand on the sheets near her. She was alone. It was to be expected, but she could not help but feel a small pang of disappointment. She had fallen asleep in the King's arms, and it seemed to have been the first night in many moons that she slept without nightmares.

She heavily sat up on the cot, with a small groan. Her wounds bothered her; and she had often wondered whether it had been her dispirited state that was not allowing her to heal as fast as before.

And then she remembered that all was well now. Erebor had been reclaimed; and Thorin and her were now betrothed - and he wished to announce it to everyone openly at the feast. The company was safe and somewhat unscathed. And her transgressions were now to turn into scars and painful memories, but nothing else.

Werna lifted her right hand and looked at Thorin's ring. He had given it to her the day before, in the morning when he visited her. It was his, the one he had worn through the quest, and resized to fit her smaller finger. He put it on her hand, and before she could say anything he caught her mouth in a passionate kiss.

The memory brought Werna's mind on the question of his caresses... and how much it bothered her. She had desired him for so long! She had craved his touch. She had even behaved inappropriately when she had run into him bathing at the Skinchanger's house! She loved him, and she had always been aware of his attractiveness. And yet, now - when she could have him, touch him, kiss him - she felt numb. They were to be married! It had only been two days, but he seemed to have embraced their new association easily. At any moment his hand would be touching her. He was not at all inconsiderate, or lewd, of course; respect and tenderness were in each of his gestures. And yet, Werna felt stiff, awkward, worried to blunder.

She made a distressed noise. She had no one to ask for advice, or simply tell of her worries. She could only hope that time would amend her unease.

After a bath, and a quick meal, she decided it was quite enough to hide in the room, and she was now to face the outside world. She got dressed, wrapped in a cloak, and realized that her favourite scarf was still in the infirmary. She was only happy to have a goal now, and she slowly walked into the passage.

The mountain was full of life. Dwarves were passing her, busy and merry - some would bow, some nodded. She could hear distant noises of works. The air inside was full of familiar smells - of forges, and food being prepared - just as in the Iron Hills.

She met two acquaintances on the way. The first one was a warrior from the Iron Hills. He was with his wife; and after introductions, the woman happily told Werna that they were considering to stay in Erebor. She was a seamstress; and Werna felt almost amused at the woman's careful inquiries whether Werna was intending to stay in the Mountain as well; and if so, whether her tailoring services could be required. Werna answered vaguely, still not prepared to discuss her plans.

The second person was Dori. He was rushing by, his hands full of some schematics. Upon seeing her, he stopped abruptly, and bowed to her lowly.

"Lady Werna! It is such a pleasure to see you on the mend!" His face broke into a wide smile.

They had formed amicable relationship through the Quest, but Werna could see some new veneration in the Dwarf's manner. Werna sighed. She supposed she was to get used to it now; she was to be a Queen. Perhaps, it was just her disquiet, but somehow at the moment the thought deeply upset her.

She had a short conversation with the Dwarf, and then excused herself and walked to the infirmary.

Her cot was empty, and she sat on its edge. Her book and the scarf were on the side table, and Werna brushed her fingers to the cover of the volume. It was the history of Khazad-Dum, in Khuzdul; and she remembered how Bilbo offered to read it to her, and then looked down at the page, and started making his usual nervous huffing noises.

She wondered if he had already left the Mountain. She had expected him to. That would be so much like her Hobbit - just to quietly slip away, thinking this way he would not bother anyone.

And then a mad thought came. She could do the same. She could pack provisions, and pick up some fitting weapons in the armoury; and leave.

To see the road again, to sleep under stars, to smoke by the fire of a camp…

Werna sighed, picked up her scarf, and left the infirmary. She returned to her room, not willing to wander anymore. A walk seemed a poor replacement for a momentary fantasy of hers, and she took off the outer garment and climbed back into her bed.


A knock at the door woke her up. She had no time to decide whether she wanted to allow a visitor in, when the door opened and Dania walked in, with her maid Avra in tow.

"I brought Arva to dress you and do your hair," Dania stated, and the maid stepped ahead, with an opulent dark navy dress in her hands. "And the dress, of course."

Werna shifted and sat up against the headboard. Her head was aching, some strange tense pain splashing behind her temples.

"Dania, I was asleep."

"While you should not be. There are only two hours left till the beginning of the final feast. It is time you get up and act your part." Dania waved towards the door, and Arva put the dress down and walked out of the room, no doubt to fetch water for a bath.

"And which part would that be?" Werna asked quietly, watching Dania pull out brushes, beads, and jewellery out of her belt pouch.

"The Queen of Longbeards, you clot," Dania grumbled absent-mindedly, her eyes on the beads she was arranging on the table. "Look at the dress. It's your favourite violet blue, but darker, to match Thorin's attire. And I have amad's sapphire necklace for you."

"You brought jewellery coming into a battle?" Werna muttered in disbelief.

"Of course, not," Dania scoffed. "I sent a courier for them right after the victory. It was clear if you both lived he would propose, considering the lament over your body on the field." Dania lifted a necklace and showed it to Werna. "What do you think?"

"Dania, my eyes are of fire opal colour. And I have a set that Father had commissioned for my betrothal when we were children." Werna was feeling dizzy, and her voice was lifeless.

"Sapphires will work better," Dania answered offhandedly, and took out heavy earrings from a velvet pouch. "To match your future husband's eyes and the Durin's blue. I had these commissioned before the quest. I am happy they were completed in time."

Werna did not know what to say.

"You are very proud of yourself, are you not?" she whispered, and Dania gave her a long calm look. "You think you had brought us together. And you have schemed and planned from the start. You pushed me in his arms. You helped me with the letters. You gave me that final letter, the one that made him take me with him. It does not bother you at all what price we have paid for being together now, does it?"

Dania's mouth twisted in a disdainful smirk. "Which price would that be, namad?"

"The lies, Dania. A lie tarnishes one's heart. I am endlessly fortunate Thorin is willing to forgive me and forget the deception; but I never will be able to. I made him doubt himself. I will carry this blame on me till the day I die..." Werna's voice broke. "And then you lied about Bilbo… To make Thorin jealous..."

Some acidic burning was spilling in her chest, and Werna gulped air with open mouth. Dania studied her face; and whatever she saw made her press her lips in a tight line, the expression in her eyes growing cold and defensive.

"In case you had any doubts, the Halfling is gone," Dania said. "I made sure of it. The Queen of Erebor cannot harbour some preposterous weakness for a thing like him..."

"Get out."

Dania froze, and Werna suddenly felt air rush into her lungs, seemingly for the first time in years as well. She narrowed her eyes at Dania.

"Get out of my room. Take the dress and the jewellery. Take you maid. And get out. And I do not wish to hear a word from you till you leave Erebor."

Dania lifted her chin and gave Werna an haughty look.

The silence was long and charged, and then Dania scooped jewellery into her bag. She then slowly came up to the dress and carefully picked it up.

She then looked at Werna over her shoulder, and smiled her usual smile - elegant, never reaching the eyes.

"Have a good day, my Queen."

The door behind her closed silently, and Werna hid her face into her hands. And then she jerked them back, and grabbed a doublet off a chair near the bed.


She ran the passages, clumsily pushing the arm into a sleeve.

He was not in the library, and the Dwarves who were balancing on the sliding ladders told her he was to be in a small room adjoin to the Chamber of Thror where his study had been organized. She rushed there, but the room was empty.

She fortunately ran into Dori again, and he directed her towards the Great Gates, where Thorin was supposed to supervise the restoration of the gate leaves.

By the time she reached him, she was out of breath, and everything shook. She saw him from the landing of the stairs, and called to him. Her voice was weak, but he heard and lifted his face. The bright blue eyes - just as the sapphire in her mother's necklace - shone; and Werna lunged ahead. She ran down the stairs, and across the hall - he started walking quickly towards her when she'd reached the bottom step - and she threw herself into his arms. They went around her, the tight and warm circle, and she buried her face into his chest.

"I love you..." she whispered, and felt his hand cupping the back of her head in a comforting gesture.

"And I you," he answered in a low voice, warm and familiar, and she bit into her bottom lip stifling a sob.

"I… I need your help," she muttered, and felt him press his cheek to the top of her head.

"Anything, my heart," he answered, and she wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I need jewellery. For the feast. I… I want… I need something of my own." She knew she was not explaining well. The first tears rolled onto her eyes, and she fought them.

"Come with me," he said, and picked up her hand, and pulled him after him.

He led her through the passages, and she kept her eyes down, hoping no one would see the redness and the pink nose. When she lifted her eyes she realized she was in a room she had never visited before. And then she guessed it was his bedchamber. It was bare, just a narrow bed, a desk, and a few trunks by the wall. Werna gave him a confused look.

He pulled at the chain around his neck, and she saw a small key. He opened a chest on his escritoire, and beckoned her. Werna stepped closer.

"This is the Arzadul, 'The One Like Blaze.'" Werna stood, mesmerized, her eyes fixed on an opulent necklace of fire opals and pink diamonds. "It had been crafted in the Grey Mountains, at the times of Dain I. I was hoping to add earrings and a bracelet to it before gifting it to you. But it is yours now, if you are willing to take it alone."

Werna slowly lifted her eyes. Her lips were trembling.

"Would you judge me if I wore trousers and a tunic to the feast?" she asked raspily, and he gave her a soft smile.

"With all my heart, my firebird..." he started, and stepped to her. "I do not give a damn."

Werna threw her arms around his neck, and pressed into him.


**YOU CAN ALSO FIND ME AT**

Blog: kolmakov dot ca

1. Facebook Writer's Page: /katyakolmakov

{PLEASE, FOLLOW AND LIKE!}

2. Wattpad: Katya Kolmakov

Jack in the Box

Romance/erotica/drama

Armed with several degrees in psychology, sociology, and literary studies, as well as a particular set of skills and abilities, Gemma Wright works as a muse for artists in various creative fields. She can inspire a hit album; pull a popular novelist out of a writer's block; or organize an international tour for a dance company.

Gemma has strict rules and a precise plan for her personal life - and Jack Richards, a famous mystery writer, definitely doesn't fit her criteria. Perhaps, his direct competitor, John Barnett, with his soft manners and seemingly humble disposition, is a better match for Gemma than the dark and handsome Richards.

Understanding others and leading them to the fulfilling and rewarding life is Gemma's specialty, but does she know the answers to the same questions when it comes to her own life?

{Updated every Thursday!}

and

Official Town Business

Murder mystery/romance/humour

Imogen 'Mops' Fox is a personal assistant of the Mayor of the small rural town of Fleckney Woulds. According to all clichés, she's madly in love with her unaware workaholic of a boss; but that won't stop her from building her own little family; solving a murder; and saving the town from a financial scheme by a mysterious oversees corporation. {Updated on Saturdays}

3. A romance/erotica/drama webserial "Dr. T Series" on my blog kolmakov dot ca

Summary: Wren Leary, a young biochem student is placed before a choice: Will it be Philip Durinson, the self-assured ball of sunshine and a uni stud, or his cantankerous and mistrusting uncle, John Thorington? The first one is her friend, the second one regrets that night in the tent. Wrennie is in a pickle.

{Updated every Saturday!}

4. Inkitt dot com as Katya Kolmakov

Romance/humour story Due North

A spinster librarian, the ghost of a 1900s British naval officer, and a Canadian dreamboat come together in a story that will make a harlequin novel pale in comparison when it comes to cliches, hackneyed turns of speech, and predictable plot twists. Etta Ryan, a prude and a bluestocking, led on a journey to a mysterious place called Winnipeg, Manitoba, will encounter on her path an unnaturally attractive Canadian farmer; mysterious numbers disclosed to a long dead British officer at a medium seance; a treasure map; a secret cave; and much more. Welcome to the story where plot will make some sense, and a lot of Tim Horton's coffee is drunk!

{COMPLETE}

Hurry Up! Claim your free copy!

My ART is available on:

5. Instagram: kkolmakov

6. DeviantArt: kkolmakov

7. Society6: kkolmakov

Also,

8. Twitter: katyakolmakov

9. Pinterest: Katya Kolmakov


My book on Amazon!

CONVINCE ME THE WINTER IS OVER

Available on Amazon in Kindle and Paper!


Summary:

Renee Miller is a reclusive web designer who, after several hours of delirium from flu, wakes up to find a stranger in boxer briefs standing in her bathroom.

John is an archaeologist who finds himself stuck in a stranger's flat in a snowstorm.

Frozen in her neat and clean world of highly functional anxieties and her history of childhood trauma, Renee is perhaps the worst possible host for her flatmate's boyfriend's colleague. Yet, while the fervent gush of life that is John Greaves disrupts her carefully guarded existence, Renee finds herself gradually yearning for more.

Is John the first breath of Spring in her frigid world?