The news of the slaughtering of the Orcs had spread quickly in Esgaroth, and when the Dwarves entered the city, they were saluted with applause and cheers.
No one paid attention to the barefoot woman covered with a blanket, and she could look around undisturbed, with her eyes wide open in curiosity and wonder.
"See, this is Esgaroth! Pretty city, isn't it?"
Fìli, Kìli and Dwalin were in front of the column of Dwarves, and had left Innêg with Bifur, Bofur and Bombur in the rearguard.
The three Dwarves had been talking to her non-stop. Well, Bifur had mainly been muttering incomprehensible words and cackling at his own jokes, and Bombur had been feeding Innêg - and himself as well - with bread and dried meat all the way to the city.
Right before they entered in Esgaroth, Fìli had appeared next to them - or better, his hand searching Bombur's backpack had appeared first, and then, once the large Dwarf had seized his wrist and bright him in front fo everyone. "This is Innêg's food! Stop stealing it!"
"I would never!" Fìli winked at Innêg. "I am here onyly to tell you that we are almost in Esgaroth. I got to go in the front now, but as soon as possible we will bring you to Bard. Maybe you are from Esgaroth and you just can't remember it, after all!"
Fìli sincerely hoped Innêg came from Esgaroth, and not from some far away land, like Oin thought. It would have been a pity, for he wanted to see Innêg again! Maybe even chat with her, and know her better, once her memories were back, 'if she wishes that as well, of course...'
But from the bewilderment Innêg was leaning around her, it was clear that she had never seen Esgaroth.
Bofur was starting to doubt she had ever seen a city of the Men. "Bard, he's the King here, is making great changes." was explaining Bofur, as they passed on a road paved in red marble and black stone. "Take this red marble for instance, it comes directly from Erebor! We are putting mines back to work as well - just wait until we will commerce again gold! Esgaroth will be the most beautiful city in miles!"
Form time to time, Innêg nodded, and her gaze followed the decorated lamps hanging on the doors, the statues, and the elaborated marble columns that Bofur was pointing her. To Bofur, it really looked like she was perfectly understanding him, despite she was staring amazed at the citizens leaning over their windowsill, to wave at the company of Dwarves.
After half an hour, the company stopped in front of an inn. "Ah, the Two Baskets!" grinned Bofur. "That's the only inn in town lead by a Dwarf! He happens to be our cousin, Bafur! Right Bombur?"
Bombur could do nothing but nod vigorously, since his mouth was filled with the last loaf of bread, that Innêg had politely refused a few minutes ago - she had already had four, and even if she was still a little hungry, there was a limit to the capacity of her stomach.
"Ah, I hope you will see good old Bafur!" Bofur grinned, looking at the facade of the inn. It was painted in white, and the widows were of a bright red colour. "A nice one, Bafur, I'll tell you. He comes the best stewed meat in all Lake-Town! If you have nowhere to go tonight, or if you just want some good company, you should come here with us an try it!"
"Hey, are you inviting Innêg to dinner?"
Fìli and Kìli had appeared next to them. Kìli checked with a glance Bombur's bag, huffing when he found it already empty, and replied to Bombur's sneer sticking out his tongue.
"Me? Inviting your sweetheart to dinner? " Bofur gasped dramatically. "I could never!"
Fìli raised an eyebrow. "She's not my sweetheart!"
"Oh." Bofur snickered. "But I was saying to Kìli!"
Fìli smug face disappeared in an instant, but before he cold bite back - Innêg was definitively not Kìli's sweetheart! - when they heard Dwalin shouting to then from the for end of the street. "Fìli! Kìli! Move!"
"Come on, let's go!" Fìli mumbled, taking Innêg by the hand and doing his best to ignore Bofur whistling.
"Don't you worry!" chuckled Kìli, before rushing after his brother. "I feel like she is not from here. I bet we are going to keep her!"
A while later...
They found out that Bard was not into town. A real annoyance for they had to deal with the Master of Dale.
Fìli, Kìli and Dwalin had not forgiven him for turning the men against the Lonely Mountain, and even if Thorin had formally accepted his apologies, not even the King Under the Mountain had forgot what had happened a few months ago.
Hadn't it been for Bard vouching for him, Dwalin would have gladly cut that little head of his away from the plump body it was attached to, as the Dwarf was used to repeat anytime the Master of Dale was mentioned. Dwalin didn't trust him, not a bit, no no.
Personally, Fìli didn't like the Master just as much, but the one that he really couldn't bear was Alfrid Lickspittle, his mellifluous, slimy assistant.
Lickspittle was currently leading the Dwarves and Innêg in the Master office, through an interminable sequence of rooms and corridors of the new palace the Master had built for himself. And while walking, Lickspittle was doing something that Fìli found particularly irritating, which was talking - it has to be noticed that there is no news of someone who enjoyed Lickspittle conversation, not even the Master himself.
"Some business with the Elves, some tedious trading business had Bard, our Lord!" was saying Lickspittle on that right moment, eyeing the Dwarves and the young woman walking among them. "Tedious indeed, but they couldn't be delayed! A pity he's not here, had you arrived only yesterday..."
"Yesterday we were fighting the Orcs." spat Dwalin, ignoring Fìli's glare. They had to play nice, after all.
"Ah, Orcs, sure! Still roaming around, aren't them? Even after the Battle!" sneered Lickspittle - as if Orcs roaming around Esgaroth and Erebor was something to laugh at. The people of Lake-Town were lucky that it was also in the interest of the Dwarves to keep the lands free from the Orcs. Otherwise, the men of Bard, brave but little used to fight, would have found themselves in great trouble keeping them away from their city.
"Well, but now they are all dead, if what you told me it's true, am I right?"
Before Dwalin could make a snark reply - or directly land a fist on Lickspittle head - Fìli cleared his throat. "We are here to discuss about this to the Master, indeed."
Kìli was fighting his disgust for the small man. Maybe he should really ask Fìli if they could let Dwalin throw him out of the nearest window. It was a waste of time to just hide his grimace. Was it really a good idea to ask them about Innêg? From the way Lickspittle was glancing at her, Kìli started to think it had been a bad, bad idea.
"Sure, sure!" murmured Lickspittle, opening one last door, and stepping back to let them in. "The Master of waiting for you!"
The Dwarves and Innêg walked inside, and found themselves in a huge room, covered in red and green tapestries. Tapestries that Fìli recognised coming from Erebor.
Despite he hated to see such fine pieces hanging on the walls of the palace of the Master of Dale, it meant that the two cities were starting to trade again, which in turn meant that both of them were going back to the wealth of before.
Actually, it couldn't be said that the Master had ever found himself short of comforts.
"Oh, my dear friends!" From behind a table covered with several empty plates of food, the Master swallowed the last piece of the cake he had just finished to eat, smiling and showing his yellowish teeth. "It makes me so happy to see you!"
Dwalin rolled his eyes, and grunted under his breath that he had been just perfectly happy until then.
The Master of Dale was as round as usual. The comb which masked his baldness was more red, and in his moustaches some crumbles of the cake had remained trapped, and stayed there, despite he tried quickly to brush them away.
It was hard for Fìli not to grimace. He hadn't missed the Master of Dale. He could practically see Kìli wrinkling his nose in a grimace of disgust.
The Master was sitting on a chair covered with cushions, and it was only with the help of Lickspittle that he was able to stand on his feet. "Thank you Alfrid! Thank you! My legs are not the same of when I was young!" he chuckled apologetically. "But I don't want to bother our friends with our small displeasures!" he said, bowing to the Dwarves - which only Fìli and Kìli returned.
"To what I owe the pleasure?" asked the Master, moving a few steps in their direction, noticing on that moment Innêg in between them. He ranked her up and down, and wetted his lips.
Dwalin felt his hand starting to prickle. A lot. How did the Master dared to look at Innêg like that? Was it the way Men were raised these days? 'I can't believe we have thought of asking this pig...'
He was about to grab Innêg's hand and just leave - he was going to be nice and not cut the Master's head for this time - when Fìli, who had not missed the Master's hungry glance at the girl but was still determine to see if Innêg was from Esgaroth or not, cleared his throat again.
"We have found this young woman captive by the Orcs." Fìli said, taking Innêg by the hand and moving her a couple of steps in front of him - which Innêg did not, for she yanked back trembling as a leaf, and tried to his behind him. "We were wondering if you knew her." continued Fìli, seeming undeterred but in truth deciding he was not going to let Innêg with those two, no matter what they were going to say. The Master had just wetted his lips one more time, and had stepped a little closer to them, looking at the woman in a way that made the Dwarf shiver with anger.
Oh Fìli was more than ready to plug his eyes out. And then, Dwalin could have done all that he wanted to that hideous man!
Kìli glanced at Innêg. He was not liking very much the idea to ask the Master - he hadn't liked it since the beginning, and now he was definitively sure it had been the worst idea they all could have had. Why couldn't they just keep her? Besides, Kìli could see Dwalin jaw clenching every time the Master ranked Innêg up and down with his small, pig-like eyes - literally! - and it was always a bad sign when Dwalin was clenching his jaw.
"Do you know her?" asked Fìli again. Behind him, Innêg was scared as hell. First, she was dressed barely in a blanket, barefoot, and who were those two strange men, looking at her in a way that was making her skin crawl in disgust? What did they want from her? Why had the small gentle men brught her there?
"Well, uhm..." the Master fidgeted with words, cleared his throat, stared hared. "Indeed... Let me think about it..."
It was crystal clear that the Master had ever see Innêg. Squeezing Innêg's hand as hard as he could, Fìli was right about to excuse themselves, when Lickspittle moved a step from behind the Master.
"Master, maybe..." the assistant looked at Innêg, then at the Master, then at Innêg again. "Look a little closer, I think... Maybe we do know her?"
The Master raised an eyebrow, then a smile - that could not be considered a true smile - deformed his lips. "Actually yes. Indeed, now I..."
But before the Master could say anything else, Dwalin decided he had more than enough, and that it was time to take the matter into his own hands. "You know this man?" he barked at Innêg. "No? Good, you don't! See, she doesn't know you! Let's go now!"
And without waiting for an answer neither form Inneg nor from the Master, Dwalin seized Innêg's other hand and marched towards the door, dragging along with them Fìli - who had no intention of letting Innêg go and was currently calling himself troll one hundred times for having allowed Lickspittle and the Master to look an Innêg in such perverted and disgusting way.
Left alone with Kìli in the room, the Master opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Lickspittle looked first at him, then at Kìli, waiting for someone to speak.
Kìli scratched the back of his head, half amused, half embarrassed. "Seems like she's not of Lake-Town! Never mind. It means we are keeping her!"
And by saying so, the Dwarf hastened behind his brother and Dwalin, leaving Lickspittle and the Master with a nose length.
"A pity, sir. We could have... You know..." Lickspittle cleared his throat.
"Yes." echoed the Master, staring at the door swung open. "A pity, indeed!"
Dwalin had been so eager to leave the Master's room, that Kìli found him, Innêg, and Fìli, already out in the main road.
In particular, Dwalin was yelling, cursing and shouting in a way that could rival Thorin Oakenshield himself. "The Master! We were supposed to talk to Bard! You troll! We all are, for letting you do such a stupid thing!"
"Don't shout!" cried angrily Fìli, seeing Innêg getting more confused and scared every second. Now that Dwalin had left her hand, the woman was leaning onto him, squeezing his hand desperately, and Fìli was squeezing it back, not wanting to let go for any reason. He called himself the biggest troll ever once more. to put her in that situation.
"Hey Innêg, I am sorry." he murmured, looking at her beautiful eyes. "I am sorry, very sorry... I just thought that-"
"That what, you giant troll?" cried his brother, closing the palace doors behind him. "Those two were drooling at her in the most disgusting way! Hey Innêg, sorry for letting this big idiot here-" "Ok, I know I made a mistake!" cried Fìli exhasperated.
"Well yes you did!" Dwalin ha ceased to scold the young dwarf and was only staring him with a deep frown. "And your fault as well!" he pointed out to Kìli.
"Mine?" cried the young Dwarf.
"For not stopping him!" Dwalin groaned.
While his brother and Dwalin were about to start a brawl right outside the Master's house, Fìli felt someone tugging his hand. He turned and saw Innêg, now much less scared, with a timid smile on her face. Her eyes were an indefinite colour in between blue, green and grey, and the sunlight was enhancing that mixture of colours, casting a charm over the Dwarf that for a moment Fìli forgot all around himself.
He cleared his throat embarrassed, for she was still holding his hand tightly, but that smile of hers sent a sudden rush of blood to his face, and Fìli had to clear his throat one more time, before being able to speak. "Well, sorry again. Ehm... We should find some clothes for you, actually..."
One of the reasons why the Master had looked at her well... Fìli felt his blood burn at the memory.
"Yeah, right, clothes!" Dwalin bellowed, interrupting his almost fight with Kìli. "Finally you had a decent idea lad!"
"But where can we find clothes for her?" Kìli raised an eyebrow. Fìli opened his mouth, but then closed it. Right, where to find clothes for a woman? "Don't women used gown, and corbets, and..." - it was corsets, but we all know how Kìli is with names! 'Mister Boggins' knows it very well, too.
Dwalin bursted into laugh. "Ha! Dwarflings! We are going to Mamal, of course. Who else?" he grunted. "If you only had something else than stones in your heads, you would remember that Mamal's a seamstress. I don't know who else we might ask."
A little time and many shouts and reprimands later, in the seamstress shop...
"Mahal save us! All mighty warriors, all princes, but give them a simple task..."
Fìli scratched the back of his neck. "Come on Mamal, don't be mad at us!"
"Mad!" the plump form of Mamal was storming around her shop, moving like her conspicous mass and the immense amount of fabric covering it was weightless. "'Mad' is a poor word, young prince! I am bewildered, utterly upset, furious!"
Dwalin moved out of the way just in time before Mamal knocked him out reaching a small wardrobe right behind him. He huffed, but careful not to be seen by the Dwarrowdam. Even him knew better than contradicting Mamal.
With her mass of red hair, her long bright beard, Mamal had been close to the princess, Dìs, since they both were youngling. She had been the only daughter of the late King's seamstress, and when her mother had died in Smaug's attack, she was already of the profession, and had followed Dìs and Thorin in the Blue Mountains.
It was whispered that after her mother had died, Mamal had been gifted with the power of prophecy and of vision, but she had never confirmed nor denied those whispers. Anyway, almost everyone was more inclined to believe it, than not.
She was moving in between Esgaroth and Erebor, and was maybe the only Dwarrowdam in the whole Kingdom that was going in and out of the mountain at any hour of the day and of the night, busy with and endless amount of work, bringing news in and out of the Mountain. She was still very close to the princess, and of course, she was one of the few Dwarves who dared to openly scolding the two sons of Dìs. Well, Mamal could scold everyone, be it a Dwarf prince or not.
"No dress! No shoes!" Mamal was out of herself. "And you brought her to the Master like this? To that pervert, that big fat goblin?" she cried, pointing with her thick finger Fìli, Kìli and Dwalin altogether. She didn't wait for an answer, as she grabbed a skirt and started sewing furiously, as if the skirt had been participating actively at the misdeed of the three Dwarves.
"We hadn't let the Master lay a finger on her!" protested Fìli, glancing at 'her'. Innêg, now much less scared than before, was sitting on a chair in a corner of the shop, and had been staring with eyes wide open at the Dwarrodam flying around the room like a crazed bird.
"I would have liked to see it!" grunted Mamal, sewing with even more force, like there she was piercing the Master's skin with the needle. And probably she was thinking exactly that. "What would your mother have said, uh? And I hope at least you gave this poor child something to eat!"
"Yes, Mamal, don't you worry. Bombur has been feeding her since she woke up."
"Ha! There still exist Dwarves with some sense, after all!"
Kìli glanced at the seamstress, muttering curses under her breath, sewing at the speed of light the hem of the skirt. "First Oin, then Dwalin, now Mamal! Why is everyone scolding us these days?" he whispered to his brother.
"No idea." snorted Fìli, glancing again at Innêg.
Even at the dim light of the lamps of the shop, her hair looked like a cascade of gold. She had regained a little bit of colour on her cheeks, and her eyes were spying the shop with great interest. From around her shoulder, the blanket had slipped down, and her skin so pale clashed with the wretched state of the blanket she was in.
It was now painfully clear to Fìli how little consideration they had showed towards Innêg, letting her walk in Esgaroth in such a state. He scolded himself for it, and again and again. If his mother had knew it, she would have lectured him to no end!
The bark of Mamal broke Fìli out of his contemplation. "Well? Are you still here? Haven't you a company to join for dinner?"
"But we wanted to take her to dinner!" protested Fìli, who really though on that moment that the ought to give Innêg at least some shoes, even if she hadn't complained in their walk to Dale that afternoon. "We hoped it would have taken five minutes or so!"
'Ah Fìli... Wrong words lad...' Dwalin covered his face with a hand. He didn't want to see Mamal skinning Fìli alive. Because from the look the seamstress had just given him, it was exactly what she was planning to do.
"Five minutes!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes in a threatening way that made the three mighty warriors take a step back. "Five minutes? You bring me a poor child, dirt, barefoot, and naked, and you pretend me to fix all this in five minutes?"
Knowing very well Mamal could be more hard to fight than a pack of angry Orcs, Dwalin quickly made a courtesy bow and retreated towards the door. "Mamal, we are immensely grateful for your service! Shall we wait outdoors?" he almost cried, hoping the Princes would take the hint.
"Go about your dinner!" grunted Mamal, going back to her work. "Are you staying at the Two Baskets, right? Good, I will bring the kid there when I am done here! Now, out!"
Kìli was quick to follow Dwalin. "Brother!" he hissed, "move!"
Fìli hesitated for a moment. He looked at Innêg, still sat on the chair. Fìli wanted to ask if she was ok, reassure her that the cause of all that fuss from Mamal was them and their stupid and thoughtless behaviour, and that the Dwarrowdam was not going to eat her or something.
At the same time he could feel Mamal glare burning a hole on his back - but damn, if wasn't that cascade of gold framing Innêg gentle eyes so distracting!
When Innêg met the prince eyes, and again Fìli saw sparkles of life glinting behind them when she smiled a little to him. It was a good sign, he thought, for she had not smiled since that afternoon when they arrived in Esgaroth. He lifted an hand and waved, and he had barely time to see Innêg waving weakly back at him, before Dwalin yanked him outside the shop and closed the door behind them.
The protests of Fìli, and the barks of Dwalin died away in the evening, and Innêg and Mamal were left alone in the shop.
A peaceful silence fell on the room, and Innêg, despite not really understanding where she was and why they had brought there, relaxed a little. That place seemed free of lecherous men staring weirdly at her. Mamal was sewing, glancing up every now and then, as her fingers moved at a speed impossible for any human seamstress.
Innêg eyes wandered once more on the shop. It was a big room, and wardrobes and dressers were covering each wall, saved for a small hollow, where a stove was burning, making the air in the shop warm and comfortable. In the centre of the room a huge table, covered with several measuring tapes, needles, spools of all kind and shape were mixed with swatch of clothes and an astonishing number of pins. Among all that mess, Mamal was sewing, perfectly at ease in that army of seamstress tools.
Above in the ceiling was coated in shadows, Innêg saw boxes and rolls of fabrics of all sorts and colours piled up.
Innêg was studying with her eyes all of this, when the voice of the seamstress broke the silence, so gentle Innêg could hardly believe it came from the same woman shouting at the Dwarves a minute ago. "You have caught the eyes of our young Prince, haven't you, lass? Well, you are better than all those Dwarrowdams that dance and wink around him and his brother, if you ask me."
Innêg made a face. Prince? Dwarrowdams? Caught the eyes? What was the seamstress talking about? She felt confused, like she was underwater, and things were happening too fast around her for her to grasp and understand them.
However, her head felt less clouded than when she woke that afternoon among those strange little men that were so kind to her. The blonde one in particular, the one that had braids in his hair and beard, and was always smiling. She liked his smile, and the way he held her hand tightly every time there was something scary.
Mamal lifted her eyes from her work - but her hands didn't slow down. Seeing the young woman so confused, Mamal smiled under her red beard. "Oin said you have been drugged, kid, and by the way you are looking at me, I guess the old fox must be right." Mamal nodded to herself, and gave the final touch to the skirt, placing in on the table.
"Well kid, don't just stay there!" laughed the needlewoman, reaching a small corset placed on the table and a cut of black velvet. She pointed at a small door Innêg hadn't seen before, hidden in between two tall wardrobes. "That door! Go in there and lit a fire under the basin. We are going to give you a good scrub before you put on something clean! Ah!" the seamstress studied the corset, before going back undoing some knots, working fast with her small fingers. "All mighty warriors, all princes, but give them a simple task..."
Two hours later, at the Two Baskets, dining room...
There is little that could bring more joy to a taverner than a company of forty hungry Dwarves.
The evening was being spent among good food, good beer, and good songs. The Two Baskets main room was packed with Dwarves - on the bar stools, on every chair and table - eating, drinking and singing. Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had taken his place at the head of a long table, and Fìli, and Kìli were at the other side. Oin was nowhere to be seen, but Bafur - the host - had gone to the Dwarf's room to call him for dinner, he had found Oin sound asleep, and had just put aside a portion fo stewed meat for him the next morning.
The Dwarves had been eating for two hours straight now, a dinner started with fried fish and boiled potatoes and the famous, much celebrated stewed meat of Bafur. Then, dinner had continued with several other kinds of grilled fishes, peas, roasted tomatoes, eight or nine different sauces to accompany several variations of goat cheese, and was now being concluded with fried squid, carrots, stuffed peppers and more stewed meat - because Bombur was very fond of it and had requested more.
And of course, ale was flooding like river, so that the mugs were always full, and that, along with the stewed meat, was making the Dwarves the merriest company you could find in the whole Middle Earth that night.
Dwalin had just gone in between Fìli and Kìli, and they all were toasting - for the twentieth time that night, we think - when a Dwarrowdam with a bright red beard and hair entered the room, heading towards them.
"Mamal!" cried Kìli, lifting his mug full of beer as soon as he saw her. "Are you joining us?"
"How is Innêg, Mamal?" asked Fìli instead, still concern about his own idiocy. "Is she good?"
"Of course I am joining you, for I have not have dinner yet!" the Dwarrowdam said to Kìli, before turning to Fìli. "Of course your dear sweetheart is good, after be under my care! Thank Mahal you have called her 'bossoming'!" Mamal scolded, folding her arms in front of her chest, glaring at Fìli with such a severity the Dwarf didn't find the courage to point out that Innêg was not his sweetheart. "What if you had called 'small person'?"
"We thought ab-ouch!" Kìli was stopped by Dwalin pinching him before he could give a good reason to Mamal to maim the three of them.
"Well, anyway, here she is!" chirped the Dwarrowdam, turning on her heels and gesturing towards the door.
"Come on dear!" called the seamstress. "Don't shy away! They have already eaten like and hungry pack of Goblins, they will not feast on you!"
Dwalin turned to the door Mamal was gesturing at. Next to him, Fìli leaned back to better see from behind Dwalin, and Kìli tilted his chair back to peek from behind his brother back.
A dame appeared in the doorframe, moving a few hesitant steps in the room. It took a moment to the three Dwarves to recognise her, and when they did, Fìli seriously considered the option of feasting upon her that night. And maybe the following night, and the one after it, etc.
Because the woman who was walking inside the crowded room was nothing like the thin, frail puppy they had left in the seamstress shop a couple of hours ago.
Mamal had braided Innêg's hair in the style typical of the Dwarrowdams, with as many braids and twines as she could muster, and the untamed mass the Dwarves had seen before had turned in a flood of gold, running around Innêg's head and falling on her shoulders.
"See there!" Mamal puffed out her chest, a bright smile on her face. "I took me good work to adapt one of our dresses to this child! Tall like a mighty warrior, but waist and hips like a Dwarfling!"
The three Dwarves were too stupefied to utter a word, and Mamal did nothing to hide her sneer. "Well? Mute like stones, are you?"
Innêg was slowly making her way towards them, lifting the hem of her dress to avoid stepping over some spilled beer or print of mud. The dress she was wearing was of the most simple kind, but it was true that the black velvet corset were making her braids look like some piece of jewellery just came out from the hand of the finest artisan in Erebor.
The candid shirt barely covering her shoulders, the very same shoulders Fìli had admired just a while ago, the gown gently drawing her hips... Fìli hand't realised Innêg was a woman so finely carved into flesh. He immediately scolded himself for thinking about her in such an inappropriate way, but it was proving very hard to tear his gaze from her.
Mamal had even found a small pair of shoes for her, brown leather boots that were peeking now and then from the hem of the skirt.
Actually, it was nothing more than a working attire that any Dwarrowdam had in her wardrobe, but after seeing her solely wrapped in a blanket, Innêg looked like some sort of queen.
When Innêg recognised the Dwarves, she lifted a hand a waved - with way more force than the slim gesture she had done when they left her in the seamstress shop.
And she the most beautiful thing she was wearing, Fìli also thought on that very moment, was that smile brighting her features like no dress or jewel could ever do.
Mamal snickered even more when she saw the most idiotic smile stretch Fìli's lips. He lifted his hand to wave back at Innêg, lost to the world. Behind him, his brother almost fell off his chair when he tried to do the same.
"Well, don't look at her line a troll would do lad, and find her a nice seat!" Mamal's voice cut Fìli's train of thoughts, pulling him back to the Two Baskets' dining room.
"Uh! Ah, yes!" without hesitation, Fìli shifted from his seat, making room next to him on the bench. "Ladies..." he said with a smile and a gallant bow, that caused his brother to snicker and to throw some bread crumble at him.
"Ha! Isn't our prince behaving like a true prince at last, isn't him, Innêg?" Mamal pushed Innêg to sit on the bench. "Go and sit there, lass! I have no intention onto squeezing myself to sit there! It ruins the digestion!" And by saying so, Mamal took Dwalin's arm and made him lead her to the other side of the table, where she sat in between him and Bofur.
"Ah, don't worry! She is not mad." Fìli chuckled.
"She is happy to sit with Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur!" Kìli grinned. "She gets bored with us."
"Too young, she says." Fìli winked. "But I can assure that you we are not boring!"
Of course, Innêg said nothing. But she smiled at the two brothers, and tilted her head, as if she couldn't be more in agreement with them. It is superfluous to add that, when Fìli saw that smile of hers, someone could have cut his beard and he wouldn't have noticed.
"Master Bofur! A plate and a mug of beer for Innêg, our guest! See, we are keeping her!" Not wanting to disturb his brother, Kìli had took hold of the situation. He winked at Bofur at the other side of the table, in a conspiratorial way we must add, and kicked his brother under the table when he tried to protest. "Don't mind us!" he chuckled, hiding his smile under his mug of beer. "Just entertain our guest, we'll think about the rest!"
Ah, poor Fìli! If he couldn't trust his own brother, he could trust even less the Dwarves at the other side of the table!
"Hello Mamal! Nice to see you!" Bofur made more room for Mamal and her large dress on the bench next to him. "How is it going?"
"Good." Mamal accommodated herself, and took a tray where some stewed meat was resting, placing it in front of her. "There's a lot of work to do, and as long as there's work to do, it's good." Mamal swallowed a large mouthful of stewed meat. Delicious. "How are things in Erebor? How is Thorin?"
"Busy as every King would be, and even more!" Bofur shrugged. "I haven't seem him in the past week. I have been working in Dale. Rebuilding the city." he burped. "There is a lot to do there, too. But I guess in a few years the city will be repopulated."
"Ha! A few years!" Dwalin spat on the floor. "Dwarves are coming already back to Erebor, and more will come with their families! We will need supplies. Wood, Food. Clothes. Ale." he laughed. "I let less than one year, Dale will be functioning again! Erebor needs Dale, and as long as Erebor will be, Dale will be packed with traders and travellers from all Middle Earth!"
"This things take time." Mamal didn't shared the same optimism of Dwalin. "The memory of the dragon is still alive in our minds, Dwalin. And you can't possibly rebuild a city in less than a year!"
Bombur took a short break in between gulps of ale and food. "Yes, Mamal, what you say it's true. But the thing is, Smaug had defended well the treasures in Erebor. It's all there, golden coins, gens, diamonds..." Bombur shook his head. The treasures in Erebor cold rival with the stained meat of Bafur. He took another small mouthful, and then decided that he liked the stewed meat more. "The gold con le spent to rebuild the city." he continued. "We have plenty. And as Esgaroth will strat flouridhing again, they will want a place closer to Erebor to commerce their goods with us. First will come the traders. They will bring inns and taverns. And then, people will follow."
"Ha! A Dwarf with some very good sense indeed, we have here!" Mamal leaned back in her chair with a sound burp. "How are you shed a bachelor, Bombur? I know a few females who would be happy to share their lives with a Dwarf with some sense!"
At these words, Bombur became as red as Mamal's beard, and in his embarrassment, he almost spat the fried squill he just put in his mouth.
His brother patted his back. "Come on Bombur, stay with us, or you will see no female at you side!" ha laughed. "Speaking of bachelors." Bofur tilted his head towards the other side of the table. "How about Innêg?"
Mamal raised an eyebrow. "What about the lass?"
"Not fair, it's me who is asking you, Mamal!" Bofur sneered. "Home you seen something? I mean, seen seen! A vision!"
Mamal chin trembled of indignation "I do not 'see' things, you silly Dwarf, and even if I did, I would surely not tell you!"
"Ah, come on Mamal!" Bofur huffed. "We'll mare a trade, then. I will tell you what I see, and you will tell me what you saw? Deal? So" Bofur didn't want for Mamal to agree - of course she was, Dwarves love trading - "I see our young fellow, our young prince, the most wanted Dwarf in Erebor, not tearing his gaze from the lass we have saved a couple fo days ago. As soon as she comes into sight, he disappears in his little world." here Bofur made an imitation of the drunken expression he believed Fìli had when Innêg was within his sight, and since everyone around him bursted into laugh, we can deduce they were all agreeing with him.
"I saw him talking with many Dwarrowdams before," continued Bofur, "but never I saw him so... bewitched." Bofur winked. "Has the girl with the golden hair cast a spell on him, Mamal? We should know, or how could we take care of young prince?"
Dwalin had turned and was loaning at the prince with a scowl. "I see Fìli behaving like an idiot."
Actually, Fìli was helping Innêg doing some all from his own mug, and so yes, Dwalin was very right on that moment. Innêg didn't seem very convinced about the whole situation, but hey, hadn't Oin said she was very confused, most likely drugged? Thank Mahal no one else but Kìli was looking at them - Kìli was bent in two laughing, to be precise.
"Ha! Everyone who falls in love behaves like an idiot!" Bofur stated.
"And only an idiot cold fall in love!" grunted Dwalin, emptying his mug of beer in a single gulp, signalling that for him the matter was closed.
Mamal had stayed in silence, fidgeting with some last pieces of stewed meat in her plate. "Visions do not come when I wish." she said slowly. "I can't see when it's still dark, and fog envelopes the events that are possible. But this I can tell. Maybe you haven't noticed it but... Have you seen her ears?"
Bofur and Bombur loomed at each other. "No?" even Bifur raised an eyebrow. But Dwalin slammed a fist on the table.
"Yes!" ha exhulted. "And they were just as round as ours! I saw them, with my eyes!"
"Then get a new pair of eyes, because the ones that you have are not warning!" hissed Mamal. "Their tip has been cut."
"What?" cried the three Dwarves in unison. Even Bifur raised both of his eyebrows. He found hard following that talking, but truth was that he liked Innêg. She was as mute as him, how could he honestly not liking her? He cursed under his breath when he got that someone had harmed her.
"Stop that, you with the ax in the head!" Mamal reprimanded him but with a soft smile - no one ever spoke harshly to Bifur - "I am telling you, yes, they have been cut." she continued, lowering her voice so that no one else was hearing them. "But it's a cut made a long, long time ago. It is not very visible at a first glance. I saw it when I was bathing the poor child."
"What do you mean?" whispered Bofur with stupefied look "Is she a..." "An Elf? Oh no, She's not." Mamal nodded severely and finally pierced the potato, shoving it in her mouth. "It's not only a matter of ears. You would have recognised an Elf. Not even the most beautiful of the Men-kind cold rival with them."
"But you don't think she is human either, right?" Dwalin raised a brow at Mamal, and she bit her lower lip.
"Had her ears be nice and round, I would declare her to be the most graceful and delicate woman I home ever met. She is light of feet and graceful in her movements, like she had no weigh and... Ha!" Mamal show her head. "I am speaking line the old sentimental hag I am! When is Bard coming back, by the way?"
"No idea." Dwalin shrugged. "He's doing some businesses with the Elves, Lickspittle told us, but didn't get into details. Puah!" Dualist spat on the floor again. "My hands itch just thinking about that little..."
"Then don't think about him, or it will ruin your digestion!" stated Mamal severely, getting approving nods from Bombur. Ah yes, definitively Bombur had some sense!
It's a well known truth that Dwarves, unless they are sleeping outside, do sleep naked. Dwarrodams usually wear elaborate nightgowns, made of wool and laces, but apart from that, night clothes are not part of the culture of Durin's folk. It's generally considered a habit of Men, or of Hobbits, for the ones that know Hobbit - not an Elvish thing, because the Elves rarely sleep, and this is another reason why you should never trust an Elf!
So we should not be surprise to see Fìli and Kìli in their birth suits, preparing themselves to go to bed.
"Where is Innêg?" asked Fìli, levelling his clothes for tomorrow on a chair. His arm was lightly swollen, but Oin had assured him it was going to be just fine for next morning.
"For the fourth time, Mamal is giving her a nightgown." Kili cleaned his booths on a rag "Master Bafur had prepared a room for her over there." he pointed at a small door on the side of the room. "It was the only spare room he had."
Fìli twitched his lips. "Couldn't she sleep at Mamal?"
"No idea. "Kìli shrugged. "I didn't think about it, honestly. She will be fine, don't worry!"
"It's a luck Mamal had a nightgown for her!" Fìli leaned on his bed. "We might have given her clothes, but I bet none of us has sleeping clothes with him!"
"Bilbo would have had!" chuckled Kìli. "I guess only Dwarves sleep naked!"
"I have heard that some Men do use night clothes. But I have no idea, I haven't slept with them."
Kìli snorted, and sprawled onto his own bed with a yawn. "Dinners with stewed meat and ale are so tiring!" he declared, closing his eyes.
Fìli was mindlessly studying the ceiling, waiting for Innêg to come so that they could show her her room, and ask her if she needed anything else for the night, when a thought hit him.
"Kìli?"
"Yes?" answered his brother with another yawn.
"Shouldn't we put back our clothes?"
Kìli's eyes shot open. "Shit."
The two Dwarves sprung up from their beds, looking frantically for their trousers, but before they could say or do anything, they heard the door handle turn.
Both of them panicking, none of them finding their clothes within reach, Fìli found nothing better than put his hand in front of his brother most indecent part, and Kìli seized the moment putting his hand to cover his brother as well.
In defence of Fìli and Kìli, we have to say that they were so little used to sleep next to women, that they hadn't really thought about that, before preparing themselves to go to bed. Moreover, even if we had said before that Dwarves do care little about nudity, it is also true that they have the highest respect for the fairer sex, and would never, upon their honour, do anything that might make a woman feel uncomfortable.
Therefore, when Innêg stepped inside the room as second later, she found herself in front of two very naked and extremely embarrassed Dwarves, that were side to side, trying their best to cover one another with their hands.
"We are sorry!" cried Kìli, with a voice an octave higher than usual.
"We were changing!" Fìli felt his face go on fire, such that he had never felt in his whole life.
Innêg froze on the door, lifting both of her eyebrows in an expression of complete and utter confusion. Which in this case was totally justified, since it's very hard not to be confused when two mighty warriors are standing in front of you, completely naked, whining and crying a torrent of apologies.
"We didn't mean to harm you!" said Fìli, and Innêg got even more confused, for there where little the two Dwarves could do to harm her, so busy as they were convening one another.
"We are sorry! Really! Over there is your room!" Kìli pointed the small door on the other side of the room, unfortunately choosing the wrong hand to do so.
"Use the other hand, you fool!" cried Fìli, getting his brother's hand and putting it back into place.
"Uh, yeah, sorry!" Kìli blushed even more. Really, he just wanted the floor of the room to open under his feet and swallow him. "Over there!" he repeated, using the right hand this time.
"Hope you don't mind sleeping next to us!" Fìli felt his ears burning in embarrassment when he saw Innêg glancing in between the door the the two Dwarves.
Finally, she understood the misunderstanding, and she had to cover her mouth with a hand to stiffen a laugh. However, hand't it be for that laugh, the two brothers might have died of embarrassment on the spot.
Innêg glanced one last time at the two Dwarves, and at their arms crossed in a nice arabesque in front of their hips, one covering the other, before running over the door, waving them goodnight.
"Goodnight" said in unison Fìli and Kìli, waving back at her - Kìli almost forgetting to use his free hand.
"Why did she laughed?" he asked, once the door was closed.
"I don't know." mumbled Fìli, finally taking his hand away from his brother. They both glanced down at themselves, but they didn't find anything to be laughed at. "At this point, I don't think I want to know!"
Kìli scratched the back of his head. "Well, that was embarrassing."
"Yes." Fìli breathed. Another thing they had to hope mom wouldn't know about. "Let's go to bed. Tomorrow morning we'll be back home!"