You know those roller coasters that have you waiting at the very top for a moment before you plunge into the abyss? I've always hated those moments, but this is one of them. You have been warned!
Chapter 52
I sank into my bed and into a dreamless sleep until a frantic pounding shook my door.
"What? Wait! Who is it?"
"Mebla and Sella." Scrabbling for my dressing gown, I threw it on and felt my way to the door.
"What is it?" Mebla was sobbing, and Sella was trying to calm her.
"Oh, Mahal, Areen, it's Feron."
I dressed with cold fingers while Mebla told me what had happened between sobs and sniffles. Finally overcome, she choked on her last word, and Sella took over.
"Tildur came to tell us and have us wake you. He was there with Father when Feron started acting confused. He asked where he was like he didn't know, and then he grabbed his stomach and vomited all over the floor. Oh, Areen, he nearly turned white." I pictured the whole thing in my mind and ran through what could cause such a turn.
"Was there much?"
"Too much and with blood. It was awful and so sudden." Sella must have put her arm around Mebla because I heard muffled sobs. I hardly breathed while I rushed around pulling on the undergarments and underskirts they had handed me. Sella steadied me while I hopped on one foot, and Mebla grabbed my stockings.
"Here, Sella," Mebla said after a loud, wet sniffle, "and I'll get her shoes." It took only a few minutes, but it felt like forever. "Your bodice, Areen." Oh, my front was gaping open. I grabbed the laces and yanked before tying a sloppy bow. Slamming the door behind us, we hurried along the nearly empty corridors as fast as we could, and I stumbled once or twice in my haste.
"I don't understand, Mebla. I saw him this afternoon, and he sounded almost himself."
"Did you smell infection, Areen?" she asked after getting a hold of herself. "Maybe it had spread."
"No, nothing of the kind. He smelled clean."
I hadn't bothered to pin my hair, and it flew around me as we hurried down to the Hall of Healing. Sky felt our fear and whined as we ran. Turning a corner, I heard other footsteps coming at a clip and Thorin talking in hushed tones with Oin, but his deep timbre carried nonetheless.
"Is it?" Thorin asked.
"No," Oin replied. "He was getting better. No boils, no pustules, nothing that is associated with the plague."
"What then? Why blood then?" Thorin was impatient, but no one had to guess why. The door opened, and I heard Tildur and Lord Vinn encouraging Feron to open his eyes. Sky ran and started lapping at him between frantic noises.
"I don't know, Thorin," Oin whispered, "but it doesn't fit."
"I don't want to hear 'I don't know!' I want answers, and I want them now. We can't wait for ten score to die before we figure this out!" Oin mumbled his agreement before another voice butted in without a by your leave.
"What has happened?" Lord Boron said. "I heard some news." Mebla and Sella didn't wait to listen to his blather and pulled me in the room, but Lord Boron followed.
"What's happened?" he asked again. "Oh, Mahal! What can I do? How can I help?" His voice faded as he left to offer whatever services he could to Oin, but I didn't care to listen. Feron was all that mattered.
"Feron? It's me. Can you hear me?" He grunted, but it was faint. He must have reached out with his hand because Sella took his and put it in mine. His was cold and clammy. I stood there kneading his heavy palm until my knees got stiff, but at last he roused.
"Sweetheart?" he said with a rasp. "Is that you? Where are we?" He returned my squeeze, but his grip was weak.
"Yes, Feron, I'm here." I made a decision then. I wouldn't leave him. I would stay with him no matter what. If for some terrible luck, it was the plague or some form of it, I stood a better chance than anyone. I would take care of him. "May I have a chair?"
"Of course," Lord Boron said, trotting up. "Whatever I can do." He dragged over a chair and put his hand on my shoulder to guide me down. For once, I didn't wince. I didn't care. "I'll get him some water. His pitcher is empty."
"Do you know where you are, Feron?" He groaned and struggled to talk but after several painful efforts, he was able to speak, and I bent over to listen.
"At ... Erebor?
"Yes. Yes! You're at Erebor. Remember?" He must have looked around because he muttered details about the chambers. "What happened?"
"I was feeling stronger, so I ate, but later I felt dizzy."
"But you're feeling better now?" I put my other hand on his cheek and felt him smile. His head turned, and chapped lips pressed against my palm.
"Yes, just thirsty."
"Of course. Oin, do you think he should?"
Lord Boron put a pitcher on the table for me, and I began to pour but stopped and sniffed. The water smelled musty, and the metal rim felt greasy. "Sella, can you get a fresh pitcher and water?" She cleared away what was on his table and came back with cold water. I took another sniff and was satisfied. "Here, Feron, drink this. It's fresh and cold. Not too fast. Just a little now." Mebla came around the other side and fit a couple of pillows behind him.
"Thank you, Sweethearts." He sounded exhausted. "Better," he said after he had sipped enough.
"Can you sleep, Feron? You need to rest if you can."
"Will you stay?"
"Yes. I'm not leaving until you're well, no matter how long that takes."
"No, no, Areen," Lord Vinn said, "this isn't yours to take on. Not after everything. You should go back to your chambers. We'll stay." Thorin and Oin came up behind him and seconded the motion, but I wouldn't have it.
"You can't ask this of me. I'm not a child to be sent to bed. I am determined, and I will stay with Feron until he walks out of here." One of them opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand, and he shut it just as fast. "I thank you all for your concern, but I'm not leaving and that's final." Feron felt well enough to offer up a raspy chuckle in support of my decision.
"I wish you could see their faces."
"You sound better."
"Now that you're here."
Since Mebla, Sella, and I wouldn't be moved, we offered to take the next shift and let Uncle Vinn and Tildur rest. I was determined to help Oin figure this out. Thorin's orders and his own fear kept Oin muttering and turning pages of his medical books. Every so often I heard him drag out another tome and dig in.
"Oin, what did Feron eat?"
"Oh, a little bit of oat bread with spiced honey-butter, and some water. Nothing much, nothing that would cause trouble."
"Do you use your pitchers to hold anything else?"
"Hmm, not our water pitchers. Why?"
"One with water for Feron smelled musty, and the rim was slick."
"That shouldn't be unless someone was shirking his cleaning duties. I'll get on that right away, but it still wouldn't cause his symptoms."
We spent the day with Feron, and he seemed to turn a corner around midday. Fili and Kili came down to visit, and Thorin joined us before the evening feast. Relief had softened his tone, and he stayed until Feron grew weary. I asked Thorin to have a tray sent down for us, but Feron stopped me.
"No, please, everyone enjoy your meal."
"I can eat just as well down here, Feron," I said. "You know it's true."
"For me too," Mebla said. Sella and Tildur seconded. Lord Vinn chuckled and added his vote to stay, but Feron disagreed.
"Please, no. I'm tired. While you eat, I will rest."
"But Feron, I ..."
"I know what you want to do, Areen, and I love you for it, but I won't take my recovery at the cost of yours. You've hardly eaten, and that's not like you. We'll have time afterwards."
"But I made a promise."
"I know." He brought my hand to his mouth. "I'll let you out of it just this once. Any others I'll make sure you keep."
"I don't feel good leaving you, brother," Mebla said. "You're still pale and shaky."
"Please, sister. You're a love, but I can't sleep with you watching me."
"Do you want us to send something down?"
"Just a little."
"Let's keep it to broth," Oin said. "Something easy on the stomach."
"More of that oat bread wouldn't go amiss," Feron said, his voice stronger, "not as long as the honey butter comes with it."
We tried to enjoy ourselves upstairs, but worry yanked like a leash on our enjoyment and kept us from joking and teasing as we would have. I heard fear and doubt in the voices of those I loved. Slif had prepared an excellent meal, despite it being rations, but I was thinking too much to enjoy its flavors. The fork moved from my plate to my mouth from time to time, and I noted that my lips opened and that I chewed and swallowed, but only the mechanical motions registered. Something wasn't right. I knew it in my heart, but my head couldn't find the reason why. Feron's symptoms reminded me of something, but I couldn't recall what. Deciding to go back, I asked to be excused. Of course, Thorin gave me leave but not before pulling me aside.
"Areen," he said, his voice gentle and low, "I know how much he means to you. He's a fighter, one of the strongest dwarves I've ever had the honor of knowing. I can't see this taking him down." I gave up any pretense of calm and wrapped my arms around my shoulders.
"Something is wrong, Thorin. Something about this is familiar." He instantly went on his guard.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I remember symptoms like these."
"From what, from the plague when you were young?" Oh, poor Thorin! He was trying so hard to hide his panic, but it dripped from his words.
"No, no, of that I'm sure. No, it was something else. An accident. I remember an accident."
"An accident? I don't understand. Do you mean an accident and then infection spreading?"
"No. Mahal! I'm worse than useless!" It was right there, right there in front of me, but I couldn't pick it out. It had hidden itself, blending with my fears until it lost shape. I shook my head, helpless, and he had nothing to say. Tildur stood to escort me back when one of Oin's healers rushed in with news. The floor of the infirmary was red with blood.
"Oh Mahal! Oh Mahal!"
Over the next three days, a cloud of gloom hung over the sick rooms. It settled like smoke in the fabric of my clothes, and my lungs choked on it. Something had happened that no one could understand. For no reason that anyone could find, Feron was failing, and there was nothing we could do about it. All the books had been opened, all opinions had been gathered, and all advice had been dispensed. Just in case, he was quarantined in a side room, although if it was the plague, it was only a gesture, but I knew it wasn't that and shared my vague recollections with everyone. No one else could pin it down either but not for lack of trying. I went over and over what little I recalled until I wasn't sure if it was real anymore.
"So do you remember someone dying?" Lord Vinn asked. "How long, do you remember how long the person was sick?" I slapped the heel of my hand hard against my temple, trying in vain to jolt the memory loose.
"No, only someone getting sick like this, but I can't remember why. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I pressed my fists against my wet eyes, and Lord Vinn rushed to embrace me.
"No, child, it is I who am sorry for pressing so hard. You have nothing to apologize for."
Defeated, I went to sit beside Feron. Lord Boron was making himself useful by scrubbing water pitchers and bringing in clean linens. I supposed I should have been grateful, but his bustling only made me more uneasy. Thorin, Kili, and Fili conferred with Balin, Dwalin, and Oin by the door. Needing something to do, I joined the Vinns and Sella who were telling Feron how much they loved and admired him. Everyone had had time for their say. If nothing else, Feron knew he was surrounded by enormous love and respect. When he could he shared his heart with each one of us.
"Areen." His voice was quiet even wispy now, and I knew we weren't going to have him for much longer.
"I'm here."
"Alone, please." His family kissed him before giving us a few precious minutes together.
"Yes, Feron, I'm here." I leaned in so he wouldn't have to strain.
"Would you ... would you have chosen me?" Oh, Mahal! I pressed my hands on my mouth to hold back a sob, but before I could answer, I heard light steps approach and felt a supportive hand press on my back.
"Tell him what he needs to hear." It was Kili at my ear. "Tell him what will give him joy. Don't hold back, Areen. Tell him what he needs to hear." Straightening in my chair I nodded, and he stepped back after squeezing my shoulder.
"Of course, I would have, Feron. Of course I would have chosen you. There was never any doubt." We both struggled to take a breath but for different reasons. "I've always loved you. Always. You've always had my heart." He made a happy noise.
"I wish ... I wish I could have been ... the one." He took another, rattling breath,and his fingers tightened on mine. "Areen, go to him. Go to him. He loves you. He will protect you."
"I don't understand." Was he thinking of Kili? Did he forget how things stood? "Kili's like my brother, Feron. Remember?" I put my hand on his cheek, and he swung his head from side to side. I felt the effort it took him to talk and tried to shush him, but he frowned.
"No, no, go to him, Areen. Promise me. He will ... protect you. He's the ... only one who can. He loves you so."
I grew more puzzled, but I nodded and promised. He seemed relieved.
"Good. You'll be safe now. Kiss me goodbye ... Sweetheart." I swallowed hard before finding his mouth and kissing him as well as I knew how. His lips smiled under mine. "I'll love you always." Then they went slack. I patted his cheek, but there was no response. I shook him harder and called out his name but nothing. A surge of pain roared up from my chest. Dropping my face in my hands, I didn't bother holding it in anymore. Sky answered my howl with one of her own.
"Thorin, something isn't adding up," Oin said. His brow puckered. Thorin had gathered those he needed in the council chambers after the long, ugly day to discuss what had happened. Evening had fallen hard, and everyone was exhausted with grief. Feron was dead, but not knowing why had kept them up when they should have been abed.
"What do you suspect?" The old healer paced the room, his gestures becoming broader to reflect his internal argument. The rest watched in silence.
"He shouldn't have died. Infection is the only thing I can come up with, but he didn't have the usual symptoms. No fever, no redness. Everything was healing."
"But maybe the blade was diseased," Fili said. "Maybe the symptoms were of disease, not infection."
"Maybe," Oin said, "but there's something else. Twice he was getting better."
"But then there was always a setback," Thorin said. "Balin, what do you think? Is there more going on here?"
"First Areen's father, then Feron."
"But Areen's father had a heart attack," Kili said. "That was clear to everyone. Lord Boron said he had a weak heart."
"He did say that, aye," Oin said. He shook his head. "My bones and gut though say something's wrong."
"What about what Areen said?" Fili asked. "Do you think something's there?" Before anyone could speculate further, an urgent knock rattled the door.
"Enter!"
"For you, my lord," said a guard with a bow for Thorin. "It's marked urgent and for your eyes only."
"Where from?"
"The Grey Mountains."
Thorin opened the scroll and hastily skimmed the contents. His face went both slack and pale, and he fell back in his chair and stared past them at the door. The other occupants of the room cast uneasy glances at each other. Whatever the message was, it was bad news, very bad news.
"Thorin?" Balin ventured after more than a minute of silence. "We might as well hear it now." Thorin didn't seem to hear him.
"Uncle?" Fili said, and Thorin blinked, rousing himself from wherever his mind had traveled.
"The Irons Hills?" Kili asked. "It's not Dain, is it?" Thorin shook his head and spoke as though from far away.
"It's from Queen Nyr … Areen's mother."
"What does it say?"
Thorin licked his lips. His left eyelid and cheek twitched simultaneously as he began to read.
To His Majesty, Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor,
My Lord, I write to you in our most desperate hour, begging you to keep safe my daughter, Areen. The plague has reached here as you may already know, but what you do not is that my son, the crown prince, has died. So too has our beacon of hope and champion, Lord Torfrin. I fear that without him, and with Lord Vinn away, others will assert their right to power by whatever means necessary. I fear for my daughter's life since ever she has been a lightning rod for those who would use her for their own ends. I will hold out here for as long as I can, but I do not expect to outlive the plague, especially since I have doubts about the cause of my son's death. He had shown no signs or symptoms until he grew disoriented after eating and vomited blood on the floor. He lasted only hours afterwards despite all our efforts.
My Lord, I throw myself on your mercy and ask you most humbly to keep Areen at Erebor regardless of your sister-son's affections. She cannot come home. It is too dangerous. Please give her my undying love. I also ask you to keep watch over Lord Boron. You should know that a raven was dispatched with a private message for him. Beware, I beg you. I have never trusted him around my daughter. He covets power, position, and my child. Even so, Lord Vinn and his family know what he is and will protect Areen as they have sworn to do. As long as Feron is alive, he will not dare to make a move.
Thank you for granting the wishes of a desperate mother.
Ever Your Servant,
Queen Nyr
Thorin looked up from the parchment to see everyone in agreement. The events were connected and to a single dwarf. All the disparate pieces joined together to paint a horrible picture.
"You're right, Fili," he said, "but not disease. Poison."
"Remember Lord Boron saying that he had spies in the household?"
"He could have found a way to put something in Feron's food. Offered to take it himself or have a guard do it."
"Why did he help out then?"
"Maybe he was making sure to look sympathetic while keeping an eye on things."
"Areen had said that the water in the pitcher smelled musty and that the rim was slick. She changed it out for him."
"So maybe that's why he started recovering."
"Strong lad! Her brother never got that far."
"But when we left to eat ...?"
"Snake! Filthy snake!"
"Where is Areen?"
"Put to bed by her maids, Otha and Kitra," Balin said with a worried tug of his beard. "They gave her something to help her sleep. Poor lamb."
"And where is Lord Boron?" Thorin asked.
"I don't know."
"He did say something about needing to attend to business," Dwalin said. "You don't think …?"
Thorin lunged for the bell rope. The door opened at once.
"Where is Lord Boron?"
"I believe he retired early, my lord." Without another word, the rest leaped to their feet.
"Dwalin, send for the guards," Thorin said, pausing at the door. "Balin, wake the Vinns and have them meet me in my private study. Oin, get her maids and have them join the Vinns."
"Do you think that he would …?"
"I don't know," Thorin said, his fear and anger making his tone as sharp as a blade, "but those in his way are dying and with Feron dead and Lord Vinn and his family overwhelmed and distracted by grief, it would be the perfect time to make a move."
Poor, dear, dear Feron. He deserves a moment of silence. I really liked him. He had been a true best friend and had sacrificed so much to help his people and keep Areen safe up until this point. Now it's someone else's turn, but don't think his death clears the way that easily. The roller-coaster is tipping... Please review!
