Chapter 54

The parchment with riddled with scratches. Consulting her notes, Grof wondered why the measurements didn't add up - surely the square was a square, or did she miscalculate something...or miss an important element?. With a sigh of frustration, Grof searched for another scrap of writing paper with which to recalculate the building plans. She would need another parchment now, which would be a crying shame since she had hoped this would be her last. This was so difficult. There were so many factors involved in planning a new housing construction in the mountain. She had been assigned only a small task, and yet it seemed insurmountable.

Floi trotted in, humming, and heard her grousing.

"What's the matter?"

"Damned plans."

"Need help?"

"I need Frar."

Floi sat down beside her and reached for one of her mussed-up braids.

"Not me?" he feigned disappointment.

"He's better at plans."

"The Blue Mountain market halls were partly my work!"

"I heard the story," Grof put down her pen and turned to look at him indignantly.

"I was only fifty-three..." began Floi.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Suit yourself." Grof turned back to her work, but facing the dreaded equation, tried to distract herself.

"How is Frar these days?" she ventured.

"Mooning over the ironsmith. "

"Pity. I know a furrier that might suit him. Frar..."

"I hear my name..." Frar appeared behind them, "You summoned me, sister?"

Grof spun around on her swiveled chair, surprised.

"No. I was just wondering how Fona and her mother are settling in," she said quickly.

"They have made many new friends. I don't blame them for wanting a quiet existence," Frar replied coolly and evenly, walking to peer at her work. He then changed the subject smoothly.

"Are those the plans?"

"Aye. My wife and I have them all under control."

"And you don't need assistance?"

Grof began to say something but Floi quickly put in,

"No."

"Suit yourself. I'm always at your service."


"Leave that be!" Malin commanded as Pearl tried to heave the chest of winter clothing from the top of the wardrobe, "My brother will have a fit!"

"You're such a tyrant," Pearl surrendered herself, holding firmly to her belly as she lowered herself on the stepping stool, "If it were not for you, Dwalin would have agreed for us to go."

"You will not exert yourself," Malin insisted, "Riding and camping for a week there, and then back again in your state? Out of the question."

This she exclaimed as she lifted the large chest with ease and set it down.

"You've gotten fitter," Pearl sat on the edge of her bed and commented, "My training serves you well."

Malin grunted in agreement as Pearl sprung to dig through the chest and found a large coat still in its wrappings.

"Try this on," she held it up, and then pulled Malin to the brass mirror to examine herself.

"It hasn't been worn yet," Malin commented, running her fingers down the sides with true appreciation of the craftsmanship, "Such fine fur."

"And it won't be if you don't." Pearl buttoned it up snugly in front, "You've lost a pound or two, and it fits you so well now. I can't, obviously."

Malin hesitated, She was rather bewildered by coats at the moment. Balin had given her a new, red robe of fine and complex tapestry for the winter, suitably traditional and very warm, but now Pearl, completely oblivious to the fact, was trying to get some wear into her own fine furs.

"We shot these, remember, namadith? Pearl chattered, "The young farrier, she made up the fur so splendidly - and I finished it myself."

"I don't want to spoil it. Dwalin would want to see you in it."

"I won't hear anything else, if you think it's good enough."

"It is more than good..."

"Then you'll be the talk of the Grey Mountains," Pearl said firmly, "Now fetch me that one. I want you to..."

She pointed to one of the axes on the wall, and Malin

"No, Pearl, you can't..."

The axe had so much meaning between Pearl and Dwalin, she just couldn't...

"Wait a second," Malin sat down next to her, "Please don't be like this. I know how much you'd love to come, but there will be a hundred years of adventures for you and Dwalin to have together, so much more than I can have alone. Don't envy me, Pearl. Be happy for yourself, and the baby, and Dwalin..."

"I still want you to have my axe. I think you deserve it after these months of training," Pearl interjected.

"I will, if it means so much to you," Malin sighed, "But don't try to lend me any gowns. I'll still look like a puffed dumpling, no matter how much you make me climb the Great Steps."

Pearl laughed.


Summoned within minutes, a horde of dwarves had already made their way to the mine tunnels where the explosion had caused a break-in. They waited mostly outside the entrance for news. The guards cordoned off the front and healers scurried in and out, removing a great many injured dwarves and checking them for injuries. Elekh was busy enlisting some of the bulkier dwarves and dwarrowdams from the crowd to help transport the injured.

Floi, Frar and Grof had come running as soon as one of the sentries appeared with the news.

"Drof!" came a shriek as Grof recognized her sister, seeming to have passed out. They had excavated her from amongst the rubble, a little further back from the catastrophic blast but still near enough to be covered with sustantial grazes and bruises.

Pushing her way through the cordoned area, Grof ran to her sister's side.

"She's with child!" Grof cried out, and Urla, who was kneeling over the body and assessing the damage, nodded solemnly, calm in the midst of chaos.

There was no reply, so Grof tried to touch her sister.

"Sha!" scolded Urla indignantly, "Don't touch."

"Tell me what's wrong..."

"She's appears to have a broken right arm crushed by falling rocks, as far as I can tell, but mostly surface injures. We can move her now." Urla said.

"Where's Veigr?" Grof turned her focus away for a moment, and realized that Veigr was not amongst the dwarves she had seen. Surely the head miner was in the mine. Catching hold of her husband, she breathed out, "Floi, find Veigr. Make sure he's alright. I want to follow them to see what becomes of Drof."

"Stay calm," Floi urged her, his usual mirth replaced with solemnity, "I will inquire."

A mine accident was always devastating, but this occasion especially since so many miners had been burned as well as crushed. There were two dead, and many gravely injured.


Dis had dropped her packing at the news, fleeing to the site. Fighting her way through the crowded halls with Malin and Daena following close behind. Usually wind and wave would part for the great princess, but today she was hardly noticed, not with so many concerned for their loved ones.

"Brother!" Dis caught hold of Thorin, who, despite being the king, was amongst the line of dwarves in the mine, moving boulders.

"These mines are dangerous," he scolded, his eyes flaming, "Step out this instant."

"You forget my husband was a miner," Dis tossed her head, "Tell me, why is there a crowd outside clamouring for news. Will you not answer them? Has every miner been accounted for?"

"Two have died," Thorin growled in anguish, and bewilderment, "But all have been retrieved and accounted for. We will seal the accursed mine, now!"

"Have the families been informed?"

Thorin shook his head.

"I will do so now, if you permit. Let me help."

"I permit, but I must see their families soon."

Dis knew how Thorin felt. As king, the responsibility for this catastrophe fell upon his shoulders. The loss of every life pained him deeply, and he clearly blamed himself for negligence of some sort.

"Very well," Dis turned away, but then glanced back in thought, "I would have you speak with Veigr first, nadad. The head of miners. Pray do not seal the mine right now, in the heat of the moment. Think upon it, for no doubt there has been some unpleasant business we must investigate."

"Whatever it was," the king shook his head, "They have covered their tracks. We cannot mine here any longer."

"Then where shall we mine?" exploded Dis, "Out of Thror's fifty-two mines, you have only two restored. The other is useless vein of nothing leading nowhere..."

"Hush!" Thorin snapped, but he was troubled by her argument, and turning around, he barked something to the dwarves at work and they stopped immediately.


"Where is Veigr?" Malin asked no one in particular, looking around as Dis went from group to group, taking messages and relaying the news.

"I'm so glad you've come, Malin," Dis held out a hand to her, picking up her skirts with the other hand, "Come with me and let's see what we can do. I'm sorry, but we may not be able to go to the Grey Mountains if our help is needed."

"I understand," Malin said quickly, suddenly relieved that she would not have to choose between two coats.

"We must try to talk to Thorin. He is in distress," Dis led Malin over some rubble, "I need to..."

"Malin!" Dwalin exclaimed, catching sight of her. He hurried over, still bearing a large boulder, "Have ye forgotten your injury? Where is Pearl?"

"You dropped the rock on my foot," Malin protested as Dis moved on, "It had nothing to do with clumsiness, and I can well help if you'd move that boulder away from me."

"Pearl?" Dwalin demanded, "Is she safe?"

"Have you gone and left your head in the lowest pits?" Malin scowled, "Why would she be anywhere near a mine?"

"I don't know, woman, I just..."

"I made her stay home," Malin swore under her breath, "She wanted to come and see, but I made her stay home."

"Here, give me a hand," Dwalin handed her some shovels after relieving himself of the rock, "Move the dirt. You do know you're being like a bear-mother to her these days."

"I can't let her lose the child."

"Whose child is it, anyway?"

"You're a dwarf. You don't understand how these things work!"

"And ye do?"

Malin felt personally affronted.

"Yes. Don't ask how," she turned her back to him.

"Malin..." Dwalin called her after a moment, "Ye promised to teach me about birthing/"

"Obviously I know nothing, in your eyes,"

"Namadith," Dwalin begged, "Young Yelor has promised to let me attend his birth."

"His wife's birth?"

"Aye."

"What in the world? Have ye gone and lost your head? Threatened his life?"

"No." Dwalin said nonchalantly, "Offered him a promotion."

"You warg!" Malin dropped her shovel and pushed him playfully, half-indignant, "That is not how you do things? It's highly improper, unprofessional... inconsiderate... You ridiculous dwarf! Have his wife no say in the matter?"

Dwalin considered that for a moment.

"That's why I asked ye," he countered.

Malin sighed.

"You have a lot to learn," was all she said.