Algun felt blood drain away from her face.
"My lord–" Words stuck in her throat.
The King gave her a smug smirk, and she clenched her fists.
"My lord, how– how dare you?" she finally rasped out.
The King's face dropped.
"I assume you have a low - if any - opinion of my character when it comes to romantic affiliations, and could perhaps imagine me participating in the breaking the sacred union of two people… but to assume that I would come to you for help if such an event took place?!To do what, exactly? To ask for your assistance to cover up my illicit affair?!"
The King frowned. And to think of it, she used to find his temperament intimidating! The darkened blue eyes, the set jaw! And attractive as well - she used to feel titillated by the man so authoritative and mercurial! At the moment nothing but indignation filled her heart.
"May I remind you, my lady," he sneered, "you have just accused me of the very same thing. I'm simply returning the favour."
Algun felt a pang of remorse. He wasn't wrong. She dropped her eyes to her hands on her lap and composed herself.
"I apologise for my outburst, my lord." She peeked and saw his features still set in a derisive grimace. Algun reminded herself she was dealing with a man from the line of Durin. Patience was to be applied. "Perhaps we could start the conversation anew."
"You can start by explaining yourself," he grumbled.
"My lord, as you know I'm a Blacklock. And as you also know the customs of my clan are… different from those of the Dwarves of Erebor."
"Your people are as Western as the Western Dwarves come," the King said and leaned back in his chair. "Which is why the subject of an unlawful affair seemed so very surprising to me."
"It is not only adultery or a marriage annulment that are as much as impossible among my kin. So is the possibility of a widow remarrying." Algun sighed. "The zealotry of my clan… I do not share such views. And neither do many of the women in the West. There is no punishment for those who disobey the customs… but I have to tell you it is made quite inaccessible for such women to live the life they want."
Algun felt grateful that he wasn't interrupting or asking her to hurry up with her explanations. He sat in his chair, his fist in front of his mouth, the cerulean eyes attentive on her - he was a figure of calm assurance now - and suddenly she did remember why she'd agreed on his proposal long ago. Algun sighed again.
"I have been exchanging letters with several women in my native dwelling. And several moons ago a scheme emerged," Algun said quietly. "With my help and with the financial support of several families in Erebor, the company of three dozen women are intending to relocate to the Lonely Mountain. Last night the last preparations were made, and the company of mercenaries who would travel West and then accompany the women back to Erebor left the Mountain. Except..." Emotions made her stumble, and she cleared her throat. "There are Dwarves who wish to stop us. Many of them are in the West, but there are some in Erebor as well... my Aunt being one of our main opponents."
The King remained silent and then emitted a quiet 'ah.' Algun lifted her eyes at him.
"My lord, the mercenaries will be stopped, and the women will lose their chance for independence! No one was supposed to know that I'd spent the previous night in Dale, but my Aunt must have seen me… or perhaps, someone among the servants. I've been questioned this morning, and tonight I'm expected to speak to one of the Elders of the Blacklocks who's visiting Erebor. And if so it happens that–" Algun gave him a begging look.
"If it happens to look as if you've spent a night of drunk debauchery with the King, as you suggested a few minutes ago–" he drew out sarcastically, his left eyebrow lifted pointedly.
Algun groaned.
"I apologise for that proposition of mine, that was ridiculous." She exhaled noisily. "I'm just desperate! I should have phrased it better. But, my lord, if I simply avoid saying where I spent the night, and a rumour exists by then–"
She looked at him trying to size up his reaction. He was silent again, pondering her. Since he still wasn't roaring and throwing her out of his study, Algun sat a bit straighter in her chair and tried again.
"And if they think I have your support as well, chances are they will refrain from peering too thoroughly into my business and my movements," she added. "You are the King after all. No one questions your decisions, and they would not question mine by affiliation. Your honour and your authority will protect anyone based on just a hint of a rumour."
"Flattery won't get you far in this matter, my lady," the King rumbled. Algun wondered if exactly the opposite was happening. "You don't possess any power over me anymore."
"I do not claim or hope to have any," she said. "But I have every possible faith in your decency, my lord. I know you share my values and my views on this subject. You are an honourable and compassionate man."
"Again with the flattery?" The King chuckled.
Algun gave him a shy smile.
"Will you help me, my lord?" she asked quietly.
He watched her for a few instants and then shook his head in amusement.
"You aren't even asking for anything, to think of it." The corner of his lips curled up. "You're asking me not to say or do anything."
"Exactly," Algun answered - and a relieved laugh escaped her. She felt she had his agreement.
He shook his head again in the same disbelieving entertainment. "You've twisted my arm. If I refuse you, I'll make three dozen women disgruntled. And that is a danger no sane Dwarf would risk."
Algun snickered. A thought came to her, and she folded her hands in front of her chest pleadingly.
"And I do beg forgiveness again, my lord, for all the rash words. Most of all, because your personal matters are none of my concern."
"They are not," he said slowly.
She could see that he was now preoccupied with some unpleasant considerations, and she wondered if he was asking himself how he would inform his paramour that he was to be rumoured to have spent a night with his former betrothed.
To say that she never thought about how his heart fared these days would be a lie. She never regretted her decision of all those moons ago - but she wondered. She'd thankfully been so preoccupied with the conspiracy and with her trade that she had no time to indulge in the petty curiosity - and the inelegant vanity. She considered it below herself, but perhaps were she less busy, she wouldn't have been able to refrain from smugly thinking of being a woman who'd refused the King of the Longbeards.
And then this morning she'd heard from so many that Lady Turith had been seen fleeing his chambers in the early hours. And Algun first laughed because she'd seen Thorin Oakenshield's eyes clouded with infatuation and lust - and none had been in his irises when he'd danced with the blonde. And then, of course, Algun had felt greedy curiosity because if not Lady Turith, who could it have been? And then she was told to see Elder Asi in the evening, and she knew what she'd be asked about, and a desperate plan took shape.
"My lord Thorin, I am grateful," she said gravely, and her words shook him out of his thoughts.
He tilted his head and looked her over merrily.
"As you should be. I'm making three dozen women happy, but there will be one woman who will–" He stopped himself and laughed lightly. Algun had never heard such laugh from him.
Algun told herself that she had no right to ask - and she didn't. But Mahal be merciful, how much she wanted to! 'One woman who will' what? Would she be offended? Was he intending to tell that woman everything? Would she be displeased or entertained?
Algun studied his face. He seemed different. Algun remembered their betrothal, what he had been like then: he had been then exactly what one would expect. He was Thorin Oakenshield, the King Under the Mountain, the war hero, the ruler of the Seven Dwarven Kingdoms. He had reclaimed Erebor for his people, and he had had his duties: to restore Erebor to its glory, to unite the Dwarves, to rule, and to marry to father an heir to the throne. Algun had felt he had chosen her exactly because she was what he needed - the perfect woman to become his Queen and his wife and the mother to his sons. And when she'd realised she didn't want to be that woman and left, she'd wounded his pride; and afterwards the more she thought of it, the more certain she felt that his heart had not been harmed. And she felt it was a comforting thought: that another would take her place, a better suited woman, a woman to meet his needs and to fulfill the duties.
But she could see now that a different fate had awaited his heart. He was different now: unburdened, lively, quicker with a smile, younger. There was more life, more humour in his eyes; and the force, the strength, and the ardor that had been hidden under the austere facade, the spirit in him that had made her accept him in the first place, but which had never quite been allowed to bloom - it shone now in his eyes, showed itself in his movements, rumbled in the velvet of his voice. He was in love, she could see now. He loved, and it was true and genuine and definite.
"Well, my lady, shall we discuss the details of our plot?" he asked with a chuckle. "For how long do you think I'll need to do nothing?" His shoulders shook from his beautiful whole body laugh.
Algun told herself that she had no right for the sudden dizzying ache that flooded her heart - and she smiled and answered and her voice was even and amicable.
"I would say it would last about a moon, perhaps one and a half. When I receive the letter that the company has embarked on their return journey I would assume they are safe."
"A moon and a half," he repeated, and a small crinkle lay between his brows. "Mahal help me, those will be long six weeks."
Again, of course Algun wanted to ask - but she didn't. They discussed more details, and she once again thanked him, and then she gave him a low bow and left.
While she walked the passages back to her halls she realised her cheeks were wet with tears. It wasn't jealousy, she thought - if only perhaps just a shadow of it. It was envy that made her bite her lip painfully. To love like that… and certainly be loved in return!
And then she shook her head and focused on the task at hand. She needed a chatterbox, and she needed to let it slip that the woman sneaking out of Thorin Oakenshield's rooms this morning had raven hair and wore the richly embroidered red cloak Algun was famous for.