"Eorwyn, you need to listen to me–" Amri voice dropped into a low growl.

"No, I don't want to continue this conversation," Eorwyn muttered and turned to him. The parchment from the King crunched in her tightening fist.

"You don't understand, he's–" Amri's heavy wide body swung to her, and Eorwyn snapped.

"That's persecution," she interrupted him in a hissing whisper. "I've already said no. You can't force me into a conversation, it's the same as forcing a person into a touch. If I don't want to hear something and I've explicitly said so, you have no right to continue."

She jerked the strap of her sack on her shoulder and dashed out of the tavern. Amri didn't follow. Outside the building, she walked several passages before she stopped and leaned her back against a wall. Her palms felt clammy, and something shook nastily inside. The stew she'd eaten lay like a weight in her stomach, and nausea made her swallow bitter taste in her mouth several times. She opened the note.

After the ninth bell meet me in the same place where we'd had breakfast.

T.

Eorwyn looked at the Third Clock Tower that could be seen from where she stood. There were still six hours till they were to meet. The ninth bell rang in Erebor when most were sitting down at dinner tables. Waiting would be a torture, she knew, but she could also understand that he was no idle errand boy in a small shop. He had matters to attend - and so did she.

Eorwyn returned to her room. Ada and Nis were gone, attending their classes. Eorwyn sat at her desk with the papers she'd brought from Dale, but she had trouble concentrating on the contracts. To think of it, it had been less than three days since she'd returned to Erebor. By then they'd exchanged but a few kisses and some tentative promises had been made. And here she was: even though unannounced, she was his wife now, in mind and in body. And though perhaps not this night, but very soon it would be known - and yet again her life would change utterly and completely!

Eorwyn ordered herself to return to her reading and her calculations, but of course her thoughts wandered: from the memories of the previous night, to that day in Dale when they'd been caught in the rain, and she'd kissed him because suddenly she just couldn't live without knowing what it felt like, and she saw the surprised look on his face. There had been drops of water on his face, and more had dripped from his wet hair, and he'd brushed the water off with his large hand. She suddenly recalled Mirkwood, seeing his face then, her vision blurred by the enchantment the air carried and by the pain ripping through her body. He'd seemed daunting to her then, but so had everyone else. Bilbo, the Halfling, had explained to her while they'd been plodding through the suffocating maddening forest that the Dwarves had been on a quest to reclaim their homeland, and that Thorin was their King, and she'd thrown a terrified look at his wide back. He'd been carrying her later and she'd peeked at his pale exhausted face. Dark shadows had lain under his sunken eyes, his face had been dirty, as had been all of him - and yet she could see he was a King. Eorwyn had never known anyone with stature higher than an elder in a merchant village. Thorin had seemed to her… otherworldly, like a hero from those tales she'd heard as a child. And then they'd talked, and she could see he was also a man - but a man like no other she'd ever met before. And the night before she'd found out so much more about him…

...and suddenly she giggled and felt her cheekbones flush. Her squirrel like mind had just jumped from the reverent pondering of the man's honour and character to the memory of him playfully biting her buttock and pointing out that it was 'round and jaunty.' That was the word he'd used - jaunty! He was a King and he thought her backside was 'jaunty'!

Eorwyn giggled again and then saw a puddle of ink under her quill. Eorwyn called herself 'an enamored cow' and put the quill back into the ink bottle. She now had to start the calculations from start.

The eighth bell tolled, and Eorwyn packed the last finished contract into her sack. She wondered if she should find something to eat. She couldn't be sure that the King was inviting her to share a meal, or they simply needed to have a conversation. She was feeling small shivers run through her body. They were her usual signs of exhaustion and hunger. To think of it she had hardly slept the previous night, and the day had been full of events.

Eorwyn walked into the common room she shared with Ada and Nis, and found Nis sitting at the table, eating hurriedly, a book in her left hand.

"Evening," Eorwyn said.

"Ah, evening, little bird." The girl smiled. "I wasn't sure if you were sleeping. Ada said you'd had some troubles today and she said you might be resting."

"I was working, but I'm done now."

"Do you want some stew? I've bought enough for two." Nis pushed the small pot she'd clearly brought from the market towards Eorwyn.

Eorwyn thanked her hotly and sat down. She plated some stew, and Nis handed her half of her small loaf of oat bread.

"I'll be… away this evening. I need to go to meet with someone," Eorwyn said quietly after a few minutes, and Nis stopped chewing.

"Oh," she said and swallowed her food. "Do you want to… talk about it? Ada said something happened, and she didn't want to pressure you– Which is shocking if you think of it," Nis added sarcastically.

Eorwyn snorted.

"But she said you might want to talk to me about it," Nis returned to her serious tone.

"I– I don't know..." Eorwyn moved a piece of rutabaga on her plate with her spoon. "I do want to talk to you, but I'm scared."

"Of what?" Nis asked.

"Of what you'll think of me… No, I'm not saying it right. But you see, tomorrow everyone will know, and I will have to face it– And if you take the news badly, then it means everyone will as well, because… because you're my friend, and if even you–" Eorwyn's voice broke.

Nis' warm hand covered Eorwyn's.

"I am your friend," Nis said. "Whatever happens. You can tell me."

Eorwyn looked up and met Nis' earnest gaze.

"The man I'm– the man I love– the one I went through abkân with… is King Thorin."

Nis' palm slid off Eorwyn's hand.

"What?"

"It's King Thorin. We're to be officially betrothed tomorrow."

Eorwyn could see shock flood Nis' eyes, and the Dwarven maiden heavily leaned back in her chair.

"You… and the King? You are to be betrothed to–" Nis made a low scratchy noise in her throat, and her hand flew to her forehead.

And then her next words felt like a blade entering Eorwyn's chest.

"But you aren't a Khuzd!"

Eorwyn winced away, pressing her head into her shoulders.

"How– But you can't be his Queen! our Queen!" Nis continued, "You can't–"

And then they both were silent. Eorwyn felt her lips twist in anguish, and she quickly rose hiding her face.

"Thank you for the stew, I will–" Her voice broke, and she blindly started grasping for the plate to put it into the washing up basin.

"Eorwyn," Nis started in an uncertain voice, but Eorwyn was already by the door. She pushed the plate onto a shelf above the basin and was out of the room.

She made a few steps along the hallway when she realised she didn't have her cloak or her bag with her. She'd have to cross several passages and two open squares. Although all of Erebor was hidden inside the Mountain, the longer and wider passages between the arrays of halls were like streets: cold and drafty; and they required proper attire and shoes to be crossed. She stopped and turned around and then stopped again, lost at what to do.

"Eorwyn, hey!" Ada's voice rang from the other way of the short hallway. The girl was carrying her books. "I'm glad I caught you! I'm starving, and–"

"I'm sorry I have to go," Eorwyn exclaimed and almost started running, but Ada was already near her.

She leaned to Eorwyn's face with concern.

"What happened? You're white as sheet again!" She stretched her hand, but Eorwyn shied away from the touch.

"Oh please, let me go," Eorwyn sobbed and pushed by Nis.

She ran and then just walked briskly and then she ran again, and tears burnt her cheeks - and then she stopped because she suddenly realised she was going in the opposite direction. She was supposed to meet the King in the Forges, and the Clock Tower she could see showed she still had half an hour till then. She looked around. Without thinking she'd run to the Royal Halls! She could see the wide doors in the Western wall. Behind them, she knew, there would be a narrow passage, with doors in its Northern wall, leading to parlours and dining halls, and in the end there was a flight of stairs, with doors to private chambers on each landing, with the King's anteroom at the very top. He'd run into her on that landing, and led her by her hand into his rooms, just last night, and she had been shaking because she'd thought then her heart had been broken forever and he was never to be hers - and then just this morning she had quickly escaped those room, out of his bedchamber, through his private parlour and the anteroom and down the stairs, happy and fulfilled and in love. If she walked there now, would she be seen?

"Master Eorwyn," a quiet voice came from behind her, and Eorwyn jumped up.

She twirled on her heels and stared at an elderly Dwarf in front of her.