The words 'what if it is the King?' had almost fallen off Eorwyn's lips… but she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and sighed.

"So who is it?" Ada asked, apparently tired of waiting for Eorwyn to speak. "Or at least tell me when we're expecting the joyous news."

"I'm meeting him today," Eorwyn answered. "We shall discuss it."

"Oh I'm so happy for you, little bird." Ada clapped her hands. "It'll be alright once you two can be open about your betrothal."

Eorwyn nodded, not at all convinced. She started rising, and Ada supported her.

"You should eat something, Eorwyn. You're still awfully pallid."

Eorwyn realised the Dwarf was right, she hadn't eaten anything since the feast the night before. And since then, she'd spent a night in her first ever carnal pursuits, and then she'd had a shock, had talked to her old torturer, had led negotiations, and had an emotional conversation with her betrothed. The thought of food - and everything that had happened since her last meal - made her head spin. Pain slashed across her stomach, and she groaned quietly.

"Should I send for a tray for you?" Ada asked.

"No, it's quite alright." Eorwyn shook her head.

A tray from the kitchen would be costly, she thought habitually. And perhaps, a small walk would make her feel better as well.

"I'll go to the market and buy myself something..."

"Oh that's right, you should! It's Surmel Okhril, there are going to be revels in the streets, and there will be many carts with food at the market!" Ada rushed to the Eorwyn's bed and picked up her cloak. "Here, take this! You're probably weak and feel cold. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, thank you. I know you have a class to go to."

Ada sighed. "Aye, it's that training hour with Mistress Sigga. She's the best caratmaster, but she hates my guts."

"Only because you question her knowledge," Eorwyn reminded Ada with a weak chuckle. The girl jerked her shoulder dismissively.

"She's just a hag, that's all!" She pushed Eorwyn's basket into her hands. "Here, go. And find me after the class if you aren't busy. We'll go watch the lads in the Eastern Passages. There will be sparring," she said in a dreamy voice.

Eorwyn laughed. On her way out she left a note with the attendant of the apprentice halls. If anyone was to look for her, or bring her a note, they would be informed that she'd gone to the Smaller Western market.

She was finishing a bowl of mushroom stew and a large slice of freshly baked buckwheat bread when a male voice carried over the loud crowd made her turn around.

"Eorwyn!"

For a moment she couldn't see who'd called her. The young men participating in Surmel Okhril, surrounded by a gawking crowd were currently showing off their knife throwing skills. A row of targets was set in the middle of the square. Eorwyn was sitting away from the crown, on top of a tall tailing with several others who didn't necessarily want to be in the centre of the action.

"Eorwyn!" she heard again, and then she saw him.

Amri was pushing through the crowd. He waved to her. She could see a preoccupied frown on his face, and she felt suddenly lost at what to do, and as if without her participation her hand with a spoon in it rose and she gave him a childish wave.

He finally reached her and stopped in front of her. His face was level to the empty bowl on her lap.

"Eorwyn," he repeated again, this time quieter. She could hardly hear him, the crowd was cheering an especially proficient thrower.

"Good day," Eorwyn said in a lost tone.

She put the bowl aside intending to jump off, when he suddenly picked her up by her waist and helped her down. Her body tensed. His touch as if had burnt her skin through her clothes.

"Come," he said and stretched a hand to her.

Everything inside her protested, and she winced away.

"I have matters to attend right now, I can't–" she started. But he made a gesture near his ear signalling that he couldn't hear her. "I can't leave the market!" she raised her voice.

He gestured again, and then pointed at a public house on the edge of the square. Eorwyn looked around, and then asked herself what it was she expected to see - or didn't want to be seen. If the King would want to see her now, he wouldn't come to the square himself. And if a courtier were looking for her, they'd find her in the public house. It had large glass windows, she just needed to make sure to sit so she were visible.

Eorwyn picked up her basket from the ground and started walking. She could feel Amri's presence behind her.

They took a table by the window, and a maid came to take their order. Eorwyn asked for a mug of gibir hamd - a bubbly malt tasting drink she was very fond of; Amri ordered an ale. They sat and waited for the maid to return in silence. Eorwyn decided since he was the one to have approached her, he should be the one to speak up. She was endlessly uncomfortable, but on the other hand she was glad that he had called for her. Their past had been weighing on her mind.

"Eorwyn, I will be blunt," Amri said with a sigh after they took their first sips. "I heard rumours this morning. The rumours. I'm sure you know of what I speak."

Eorwyn held the mug to her lips unnecessarily long to hide her expression. The King's words echoed in her mind: 'you're a poor liar, little hen.' It would be wiser to not attempt to feign her ignorance but to avoid answering altogether.

"And I… worry," Amri said. "I worry about you."

"You worry about me," Eorwyn repeated slowly.

"I saw you yesterday at the revel," Amri said grudgingly. "I saw you two… together. I saw how you were with each other, how you danced. And considering that you're back in the Mountain, I assumed– I assumed that the man - we both know whom I speak of - had made his feelings to you known, and that the two of you have..." Muscles danced on Amri's jaw. "That you have entered an association."

He wasn't wrong, Eorwyn thought. She wasn't even surprised that he'd guessed. He'd always been quite observant.

"And then this morning I've heard of… him and Lady Turith," he said, his voice growing firmer. "And I wanted to speak to you about it, because I just wonder if you don't understand the Dwarven traditions, and how unacceptable his behaviour is. And that the fact that he is– who he is, doesn't give him the right to get involved with two women at the same time!"

Eorwyn's jaw slacked. Amri's nostrils flared in anger.

"I care for you, Eorwyn," he gritted through clenched teeth. "And I can't simply sit and watch you being... used."

A peculiar thought came to Eorwyn's mind. It was an unfortunate trait of hers, which she was more and more aware as she was growing older. She would have a firm opinion and the perfect answer to Amri's words… but it would be the next day. Her mind was quick and efficient when it came to her beloved numbers and to the dealings in trade, but when it came to social engagements, she simply lacked experience and skill to find her voice. Perhaps, it'd been too rarely that she'd been asked what she thought of a matter. To think of it, King Thorin was the first person to be considerate and respectful of her wishes and ideas. She suddenly remembered how he'd asked again and again whether she had been certain of her desire the previous night.

She stared at Amri, and he seemed to get encouraged by her silence.

"Eorwyn, if you need help, if you don't know how to leave this association– If it's not what you thought it would be… Or you don't know how it should be–" Amri tangled in his words. "I know how painful it must be for you to hear the rumours this morning–"

"Amri," she interrupted, still not at all sure what she'd say.

"Please, don't argue, Eorwyn," Amri said and leaned ahead over the table. "I remember how unaware you were when I first pointed out his 'interest' in you." Amri's voice was now venomous. "You kept repeating he was your 'friend.' I understand how you could be so naive, I judge you not, believe me. You simply don't know what men are like, even Dwarven men. And of course you couldn't see it! How his eyes followed you, how he lusted after you." A bitten grimace twisted his lips. "And of course you agreed… What choice did you have? Of course you gave in. He has all the power!"

It was Amri's unfairness towards the King - his sheer assumption that the King would be so reprobate, so corrupt as to bring the question of power into the question of passion - that shook Eorwyn out of her stupor.

She still knew not what to say - what words would be wise, what she shouldn't say, and what she felt - so she just got up and started walking towards the doors of the public house. She simply knew she didn't want to listen to him anymore.

"Eorwyn!" His voice rang in the common room, and she heard his steps behind her.

She winced, but he didn't grab her arm as she feared for an instant. He was a Dwarf after all - though a blind, self-assured, arrogant, presumptuous one.

"Wait, I need–"

"Master Eorwyn," another voice addressed her, and she turned around sharply.

A royal courtier stood in the entrance of the tavern with a rolled up piece of parchment in his hand.

"A note from King Thorin, my lady," he announced loudly and stretched his hand towards her.