Chapter 142

The Little White House

Even though there was no more immediate urge to run here, there and everywhere and fight orcs at every turn, there was still more than enough to do. The city was a mess, we had more people wounded than we had people without injuries. It was a good thing that the war was over, because really, we would have lost even the slightest skirmish.

The state of the Free Folk everywhere was abominable. Rohan had lost many people to war, Gondor even more. It was bad. Everywhere I went I saw people walking around as if in a daze, as if they had trouble believing what their eyes told them. Living in a constant state of fear will do that to people. When the fear at last disappeared, they did not quite know what to do with themselves. They didn't know how to be at peace anymore, because they simply never remembered a time when Sauron had not been threatening them in some form or other.

In the north it was both better and worse than in the south. It was better for them because they recalled a time before war darkened their doorsteps. They knew what life was supposed to be like and that gave them something to aim for. They needed that, because their losses had been significantly worse.

The death toll was unimaginable. Thousands upon thousands – I don't think anyone has even tried to estimate a number yet that comes close to the enormous loss of life – had died. Many more were permanently scarred and maimed by battle. Esgaroth and Dale were just gone, Mirkwood overrun. Erebor remained the only safe and habitable place for many miles around, even when the war was over.

That's the thing about these stories. The book can be horribly deceptive. The Ring has been destroyed, it's all over, it's all sunshine and rainbows from here on in. Now that the trouble in the Shire was dealt with before it could get off the ground, it stood to reason that everything would stop being so horrible all the time.

If only…

Cathy

She'd neglected her duties for far too long, Cathy reflected from the relative comfort of Thoren's chair. It was a very good chair, made especially for him. It was one of the perks of standing in for him that she could sit in it for ages and not feel any of the pregnancy-related aches in her back for hours at a time. She could sleep in this chair if need be.

In fact, she had.

She wasn't sleeping now and, if the contents of these documents were anything to go by, she wouldn't do a whole lot of sleeping in her own bed this night either for that matter.

Maker be good.

She had neglected her duties. Jack's death had directed her attention elsewhere and while she had traipsed all over the Mountain since then to solve problems as they arose, she hadn't paid any attention to the growing pile of paperwork on Thoren's desk. She should have. She really should have.

She ran a hand through her hair. Unsurprisingly, this did not make her troubles go away.

I need tea, she thought, before recalling that this too was running out. Her thoughts briefly strayed to Duria's private stash, but she dismissed that thought as soon as it entered her head. It wasn't fair on Duria and besides, dragons did not guard their treasure as jealously as Duria did her tea. The only time she had even been allowed to touch it was when Duria had been so consumed with grief that she didn't know what was happening around her. There was no chance that she'd get anywhere near it now.

She took a sip of water instead and reviewed her options. They weren't many.

But I'm a dwarf, she reminded herself. We don't throw in the towel when things go against us. We find another way instead.

'Right,' she said out loud, because wallowing in panic was not going to help her here. Briefly she contemplated going to Thoren for help, but she decided against it. He could barely keep his eyes open for an hour at a time. He had entrusted this to her. Admitting that she was not up to the task counted as failure and Cathy was determined not to fail.

She could however call in some help, so she made for the door. To her infinite relief, she found Alfur and Halnor on duty, assisted in this strenuous endeavour by young Harry. Her young kinsman had been dressed up in bits and pieces of armour. He had a helmet on his head that was just a little too big for him and in his right hand he held a spear that missed its lower half.

'Morning, Cathy,' Alfur greeted cheerfully when she poked her head out of the door.

'And a good morning to you,' she returned the greeting. 'We are recruiting our guards a little young these days, aren't we?' She nodded in Harry's direction.

Harry grinned back at her. 'I'm his apprentice,' he announced, straightening his back and holding his spear with pride.

Clearly this was a game the three of them were playing, so in the complete absence of foes she was happy to let them carry on with it. It was good to see him smile and be somewhat more at peace. 'So I can see,' she agreed. As long as it kept him out of mischief. 'Do you think you could perhaps also be a messenger for a bit?'

He perked up. 'It's my strength. I'm really fast.'

She knew that. 'Very well. Do you know where Thorin Stonehelm is lodged?' She waited until Harry had nodded in confirmation, before she continued: 'Will you go and find him and tell him that I would like to speak with him in Thoren's study at his earliest convenience?'

He was eager enough to go, but she made him repeat the message twice, just to be sure. Judging by the look on his face he thought that this was a waste of time and surely he knew how to remember one simple message and now please would she let him go already? Cathy decided against repeating it a third time, so off he went, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Only when he was out of sight did she turn back to the other two.

'What can we do?' Halnor asked.

She turned to Alfur. 'I need to know how many people are under the Mountain.' Beating around the bush was not her way. 'As detailed as possible. How many alive, how many wounded.'

He nodded. 'This is about the food supply, isn't it?'

He guessed it in one go.

'Yes, it is.' Maker help us all. 'We're running out.'

There were too many people here with nowhere to go. The land was burnt. There'd be no harvest here this year, maybe not even the year after that. How in Durin's name was she going to keep them all fed? The task was insurmountable.

Alfur nodded again. 'I see.' She read the worry in the frown on his forehead. 'I'll see about speaking to folk about lists and numbers. How quickly do you want them?'

'As soon as can be managed.' And preferably yesterday.

Alfur squeezed her hand in support. It was more comforting than words could have been.

'I will also need to speak with Solmund some time today,' she said to Halnor. He was one of the few who could still walk unaided. As far as Cathy was concerned, this meant that he could come to her instead of the other way around. Pregnancy didn't help at all with moving around. 'If you could find him and bring him here, I'd be much obliged.'

'And leave you here unguarded?' He did not like the sound of that. 'Your brother would have my head.'

'Good thing then that he spends most of his time asleep, so he won't find out about it.' That danger was past. No more traitors, no more war, just imminent famine. And famine at least would not burst through the door to stab her through the heart.

If only it were that simple.

She left the two of them to their tasks and stepped back into the study for another look at the information that she did have at her disposal. It was no more encouraging the second time around.

How? Cathy thought at no one in particular. How am I going to do this? Dealing with traitors now appeared like child's play in comparison with this.

Fortunately Harry was true to his word. He was fast and he returned with Stonehelm a whole lot sooner than she had anticipated. Without knocking he let himself into the room, grinning from ear to ear, dragging an indulgent Stonehelm in by his right hand.

'Here he is!' he announced, looking very pleased with himself. 'Just as you asked.'

She could not help but smile. 'Yes indeed.' This boy had a heart of gold, no two ways about it. 'And I thank you very much for your troubles. Do you think you could stand guard outside the door by yourself until your friends return?' This was not a conversation meant for a child's ears.

Harry didn't take that as an insult, but rather a ringing endorsement. He couldn't get his reply out quick enough. 'Yes! Can I, please?'

Better use that before he realised the boredom that came with such a task, especially for an active boy such as he. 'Go on,' she encouraged. 'I'll trust you do it well.'

As if he would do anything else after that. He grinned at her again and left her alone with Stonehelm, whose smile disappeared the moment the door fell shut behind Harry. Cathy had a sinking feeling that he already knew what the matter was.

His words confirmed it: 'I suspect it's the food supply that you mean to discuss.'

Would that it were something else. 'Yes, it is. Please, take a seat.'

He did.

Stonehelm was not a foolish dwarf. He knew what she must ask. Politeness and gratitude also dictated that she couldn't ask it. Never in a million years would she have taken this step of her own volition, only now she had no choice. She had to.

She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it: 'I shall order my people to prepare for our return to the Iron Hills.'

Thank the Maker. 'Yes, I think that would be best.' The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Yet the truth remained that there were many dwarves from the Iron Hills here, all of them wanting – and needing – to be fed multiple times a day. Unlike so many, they had somewhere to go that could still offer them shelter and that still had some resources to feed them. Erebor had been at the heart of the war. The Iron Hills had been visited by Easterlings, but no defiling orc had ever set foot there. Their lands were untainted.

Stonehelm inclined his head. 'There is no shame in this.'

'I know there is not.' It was only the sensible course of action. The feeling of wrongness however persisted. 'Nevertheless I wish that there was no need to ask this of you.'

'You did not ask.' True enough. 'I announced my intentions to you.' When her surprise showed, he added: 'We have all spent much time among the elves and observed their ways.'

Well, this was how an elf would go about it. 'So we have.'

'The Iron Hills still know plentiful times,' Stonehelm carried on. 'It would be my pleasure to share our bounty with Erebor.'

That was the second thing she had intended to ask. In some ways she'd also found it harder to ask, which was why she had asked for Stonehelm rather than Dáin. It wouldn't be the first time he refused one of her kin asking for aid. She never quite knew where she stood with him. His son was altogether easier to interact with. Besides, Dáin still resided in the healing rooms, which was all the excuse she needed.

It was as though a weight had fallen off her shoulders. 'Thank you.' The words felt too small and insignificant for the sentiment she meant to convey with them.

So naturally he waved them away as though they were nothing. 'That ought to be the way of it among kin.' She wondered if he distanced himself from his father's actions intentionally or not. But asking was more than her life was worth, so she kept her mouth well shut. 'I shall see about sending as much as can be spared as soon as I ride through the gates.'

They desperately needed it, so she tried to thank him yet again. 'I know you'll not wish to hear it, but you have my most heartfelt thanks.' Without that food, she didn't like their prospects much.

'And I'll say again that there is no need.' Stonehelm was equally stubborn. 'Your brother showed wisdom in defying the Enemy, wisdom that my father did not share.' So the decision was a conscious one. 'It is thanks to his efforts that the war could be won and I have not forgotten this.'

She wondered if Dáin had. Thoren hadn't spoken about it and neither had anyone else, but Cathy heard rumours. Some of the rumours claimed that Dáin had run from the battlefield. Others said that he had only carried out Thoren's orders for a retreat. Cathy herself was inclined to believe the latter, but Thoren had sent him away with the wounded, while Dáin was still fighting fit. Something was off with that.

'Very well.' Dáin was not important in this anyway. 'Then I shall simply say to you that I am glad that this is possible and leave it at that.'

It was a thank you in disguise and plainly Stonehelm fully understood this, but before he could dismiss them a third time, someone knocked on the door.

'Who's there?'

'Master Solmund to see you,' a childish voice announced with glee. A brief hesitation. 'My lady,' he added. There was another pause. 'If that is convenient.'

Cathy smiled despite herself. She strongly suspected that Halnor was supplying the words to young Harry, but he delivered them with gravitas and dignity, as though he had received some training in this matter. He was a well-mannered boy even without that. And if helping out his friends – she now recalled that both Alfur and Halnor had been his companions on the road to Erebor – distracted him from his loss, then so much the better.

'We are done here, I think,' Stonehelm said.

'Yes, we are. Thank you.' She slipped it in just before she raised her voice to allow her new visitor entrance, because her kinsman was not the only one who could model his conduct on that of the elves when it suited. 'Please show him in, Master Harry,' she called out.

He must've had his hand on the handle, because the last word had not even left her mouth when the door swung open. 'Right this way, sir,' he told Solmund, who bore the excessive formalities with the same indulgence as Stonehelm had done. 'Your visitor, my lady.' It would have been the very image of decorum if he hadn't grinned so much. Young Harry was really enjoying his stint as her errand boy.

'My most sincere thanks, Master Harry,' she played along. 'Your services are much appreciated.'

He beamed at her one more time before he closed the door, with Stonehelm still on the wrong side of it. Her kinsman chuckled, inclined his head and knocked on the door. 'Do you suppose you could open the door to let another visitor out, Master Harry?'

The door swung open again so fast it would have hit him square in the face if he had not quickly danced out of reach. Harry did not notice. 'If you would follow me, sir, I will show you out.' He really was enjoying this game. It's a good thing he does not know what we are discussing here.

To ensure it remained that way, she waited until he was out of earshot before she spoke. As it happened, Solmund beat her to it. 'I suspect that you have brought me here to speak about our current lack of supplies.'

'Yes, I have.' How did folk know these things before she even spoke of them? Had there been a secret meeting that she had missed somehow?

She strongly suspected that it was so, because he volunteered a plan before she could ever get a question out: 'With sufficient protection, I would like to take some fisherman to the Long Lake to find out if the orcs have left any fish in the water.' He smiled somewhat wryly. 'Somehow I question whether orcs possess the patience required to fish.'

Cathy tried to picture any orc having the calm to settle down with nets or a line and wait until the fish would bite. It was altogether quicker – and more in line with their vile nature – to turn on one of their weaker companions and have them for dinner instead. Right now she dearly hoped that it remained that way.

We need sustenance.

'I can supply guards for your protection.' She had already drawn up a mental list of those who could still walk and wield a weapon sufficiently. It left the Mountain itself somewhat undermanned, but it was no longer under threat, so it would have to do. 'If you can supply the fishermen, we can pull this off.' She looked him right in the eyes, because what with all that had happened, it was important that he knew this. 'I hope you know that your people are welcome to remain here until such time that they have dwellings of their own again. You have fought and bled in this war. We dwarves have long memories. We will not forget your sacrifices.'

He inclined his head in what she hoped was gratitude. 'There is hope for our peoples yet.'

Yes, Cathy thought, but only if famine doesn't do for us first.

Beth

It was no fun being the only lady in residence, Beth reflected. She was mainly just directing traffic. All she needed was a fluorescent vest and add a bit more arm-waving and the picture would be complete. People looked to her now for direction, apparently because they thought she had magically gained intimate knowledge of the palace and its workings overnight. She hadn't, so she felt like an imposter most of the time.

The moment when she did have a minute to breathe, she nipped off to the impromptu healing room to see how her friends were doing, only to be told quite firmly at the door – and not even by her own mother – that all five of them were resting and she should come back later. Apparently Thráin was the only one who'd woken at all. He'd had a chat with Gandalf, had gone for a wander, had breakfast and then had gone back to sleep. No one else was awake yet, so she was kindly invited to remove herself.

Beth knew how to take a hint.

'There you are!'

Just as she was walking down the hallway, wondering if she should just get back to directing traffic – she was a responsible adult after all – Mary came up behind her, hailing her at the top of her voice and waving her arms around to no purpose that Beth could discern.

'Here I am,' she agreed, halting and turning around. 'What can I do for you?'

'Nothing.' Mary caught her up and hooked her arm through Beth's. 'It's more what I can do for you.'

Beth searched her mind and came up empty. 'Nothing?'

Mary snorted, then pulled her along. 'We're going for a walk.'

'We're what?'

'We're going for a walk,' Mary repeated. 'When was the last time you had a break, Beth?'

'You just caught me at the end of one actually.' This was a conversation she'd had before. Every time Mary had the suspicion that Beth was getting a little too obsessed with one of her projects, she staged what she proudly called "interventions" in order to pull her sister back to the real world. Beth knew full well that she sometimes had trouble switching off when she was in the middle of something, but she also knew that she never crossed the border into full-blown obsession. Mary's interventions had made her miss more than one deadline, so she had come to dread them.

But at least she had a decent excuse this time. 'I've had almost an hour for lunch. And yes, I have eaten.' The kitchens had been her first port of call and she'd eaten a bite on the go. 'So it's about time I got back to it.'

She should have known that this was never going to work with Mary. 'I meant before that.'

Beth suspected that she knew where this was going, so she deliberately misinterpreted. 'That was my first break of the day, but then, I started late. We weren't back early.' She had definitely not invited Mary to ride back with the Fellowship, but Peter had come as well and she was not keen to be the only outworlder left alone. 'As you know.'

Mary predictably did not fall for it. 'Yeah, I meant before that.'

'In that case, December.' Honesty was definitely the way to go.

Of course that meant that she had no chance of getting out of this now. Triumph in being proved right flashed across Mary's face. 'See, we're going.'

'So, who is going to do my job?'

'Never you mind.'

'Is anyone doing my job right now?'

Mary avoided her eyes. 'Yes.'

A horrifying prospect just occurred to her. 'Oh, dear. It's not Peter, is it?'

Mary feigned shock. 'Of course not. What do you think of me?'

'Honestly, you don't want to know.' But fussy busybody was definitely a term that crossed Beth's mind right this minute. 'So, who's standing in for me while you whisk me off to places unknown?'

Mary smiled enigmatically. 'Oh, no one too important. Just the King and Steward.'

Beth inhaled with the intention to use that breath to give some choice reply to this, but she took a look at her sister's face and decided against it. She'd apologise on Mary's behalf later. 'So, where are we going?'

'Just on a walk.' Mary set a brisk pace for Beth to match. 'I thought we'd go and explore. Take in some sights. Play tourists.'

For heaven's sake! 'Don't you think we've got better stuff to be getting on with?' she demanded. 'Mary, everyone is busy and you don't catch them lying around, doing nothing. I doubt any of them have had a break in forever, but we are bunking off?' She wasn't supposed to do that anymore.

'Tough. We need to talk and I am not doing it here.'

So this was definitely an intervention. Seeing as how Mary had her right arm in a death grip and she was not planning to give any bystanders a show in sibling arguments, she resigned herself to her fate. Truth be told, she didn't like the part where Mary urgently wanted to discuss something less than promising either. What on Earth has gotten into her?

She was not going to find out about it here. They walked in silence for a bit. Mary apparently had some idea of where she wanted to go, because she moved with purpose. They ended up on the fifth level of the city, where, according to the little Mary did say, there were some pleasant streets. Goodness only knew when she'd had time to discover them, but it was probably best not to ask.

The streets were nice. They were also abandoned. Most of the populace had fled well before the siege got underway. They'd probably return soon, but for now it was almost a filmset after all the actors had left. Evidence of their presence however remained. Wood was stacked neatly beside doors, toys were left as though the owner had just walked off and could come back at any moment. They must have left in some haste and in a state of panic.

They were entirely alone now, so there was no reason to postpone this any longer. 'So what did you want to talk about?'

'The future.'

Ah. The future. That thing that she had not actually spent any time thinking about. Rather, she had thought too much about the future, but very little of her efforts had ever been directed at the time period after the destruction of the Ring. Making sure that the Fellowship got safely out of Mordor had been her main priority. Everything after that she'd think about when there was time to think about it.

She hadn't got round to it yet. The future was once again shrouded in mystery. That had never bothered her before she got to Middle Earth. Even against her wish she had come to rely on the book, even if only to compare it against reality. Now there was not much left to compare. The quest was done. Sauron was no more.

So now what?

'Ah,' she said, just to buy herself some time.

'Ah indeed,' said Mary, not fooled for even a second. 'What are your plans?'

Honesty might still be the best way to go. 'I haven't had the time to think about any of that.' She'd always pushed it back until "after the war." Now it was "after the war" so it was beyond time she started doing something.

Mary evidently shared that opinion. 'So do it now.'

'Why the hurry?' Beth narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 'The Ring was destroyed yesterday. Don't you think we should take a little time to enjoy that?'

'So Harry can just sit in some mountain miles away waiting for you while you get your act together?' Ah, so that was where she was going with this. 'Face it, Beth, he's out there on his own…' She raised her voice when Beth opened her mouth to point out that Harry was by no means alone, 'and you're sitting here, twiddling your thumbs whilst waiting for your life to happen to you instead of the other way around.'

Beth spluttered in indignation. 'Excuse me?'

Mary crossed her arms over her chest in response. 'You heard me.'

Yes, she had. It was the actual content of that little speech that she had some trouble digesting. Really? Were they really going to have this conversation again? Just because she didn't know what the future looked like right now did not mean that she had forgotten about her son. Just because she hadn't had many opportunities – or indeed any at all – to show that she could be a good mother, that didn't mean that she wasn't trying her damnedest to be one. But would Mary see that?

'You need to get your head examined.' She followed Mary's good example by also crossing her arms over her chest. It was the sensible course of action too; that way she wasn't able to hit her. 'Why won't you see that I do love Harry?'

'Really? Because you're not exactly champing at the bit to go and get him now, are you?'

Beth opened her mouth, then closed it again. Somewhat to her shock she realised that she wasn't, to use Mary's terminology, "champing at the bit" to get on a horse and ride north. She was so tired. If she'd slept an hour last night it was much. She hadn't slept in abundance since… The fact that she could barely remember a decent night's sleep did not bode well.

The sleep deprivation was part of it, to be sure. She did love Harry. She hadn't forgotten about him. Not entirely. These past months she'd had to train herself not to worry herself into a frenzy, because other people were keeping him safe and she needed all her energy to stay alive and do her own job as best she could. As a result, her own survival had been at the forefront of her mind and Harry… had not.

She'd rather drop dead than say any of that. 'Well, I can't go by myself, can I?' Fortunately she had a perfectly serviceable excuse ready to hand. 'Who knows how many orcs are still out there, looking for easy pickings. The roads aren't safe and I don't know the way. I'll have to wait until Thráin is back on his feet and ready to travel at least. I don't like it, but that's the state of things.' She dared Mary to contradict that.

She couldn't.

'That's what I thought.' Best to strike while the iron was hot. 'So unless you've got any other bright ideas you wish to apprise me off, I'm out of here. I'm done lazing about.' She turned around with every intent of marching away from here – and Mary – as quickly as she could.

She didn't get round to it.

I know this.

It had been ages since something she'd seen in the Mirror had come to life before her eyes, but here it was at last. When she turned around she stared right at a little gate, half ajar. Beyond it was a small courtyard, just as abandoned as the rest of this place, but it wasn't that which had drawn her attention, because at the far end of it was the house she'd dreamed about for almost two months now.

It drove all thought of the argument right out of her head. If she'd taken the time to really sit and think about this rationally – ha, chance would be a fine thing! – then she would have realised ages ago that a house built of white brick would almost certainly be situated somewhere in Minas Tirith. And if that hadn't been a big enough clue, then she might have surmised that it was extremely unlikely that Boromir would suddenly decide to leave the city he loved so much in order to live somewhere else. Of course the house was going to be here.

Once she'd rested and got her head back together, she might have got round to idly wondering about the location of said house. If she had a few spare moments, she might have gone for a little wander to suss out where it was. Only now she didn't have to do any of that, because here it was, right in front of her.

Mary was saying something – it was hard to shut her up once she got going – but Beth was no longer listening. She was drawn through that gate as by a magnet. The colours were not as bright as her vision and dream had led her to believe, but that could just be because in years to come, someone would come to do a bit of a paintjob. There weren't any plants around yet either. The little square breathed desolation, but Beth only half saw it. It was as though she saw two realities at the same time, overlapping, the present and the future.

I know what it is supposed to look like.

She kept on walking until she was right before the house, where reality at last reasserted itself. The house was in a sorry state of repair. The shutters were rotting. Most of the paint had gone over the years. Goodness only knew what happened to the front door, because it wasn't there anymore.

'Not a pretty sight.'

Beth swivelled around to find that she was not alone. An old man with only one functional leg and a walking stick leaned against a wall nearby. He was just as weathered and desolate as the place around him, which might be why she overlooked him at first. On closer inspection she found that a fair number of his teeth were missing.

'It's not,' she agreed. 'Do you live here?' She spread her arms to indicate the entire square, meanwhile hoping very hard that the house she'd set her heart on was not already spoken for. 'Have you lived here?'

The smile on his face was wistful, but it was directed at the house to her left and not quite at her. 'Not for many years. My family moved away when I was a boy, forty years ago.' He looked decidedly older than fifty. That's what war does. Beth had estimated his age somewhere between seventy and eighty. 'No one has lived here for a very long time.'

'Would you like to live here again?' Beth asked.

The man considered this for a while. 'No.' The answer, when he gave it, was firm and decisive, albeit tinged with sadness. 'I haven't got the strength left to fix it up.'

He limped off before Beth could make offers to have some people coming in to help him fix things. This is what the war has done. It had aged people before their time. It had exhausted them so that, even when victory at last arrived, they hadn't the energy left to celebrate. The war had been a part of them for so long they'd forgotten how to be without it.

What he saw was not what Beth saw. She saw what could be. She stood here and looked and only saw one thing: potential.

Next time: the Fellowship is reunited at last.

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Until next week!