Wren walked into the parlour, holding Mira's hand, the two maids following them - and stopped in her tracks facing Lady Dis, who was absorbed in a conversation with an unfamiliar Dwarf. He was about the same age as the King, his dark brown hair already touched with silver, but still clearly in his prime.

"'Akrâgnana'ê," Lady Dis addressed Wren, "this is Alfar, son of Ingi, the King's manservant."

Wren was suddenly reminded of the conversation she'd had with the King in an inn in Hobbiton, seemingly in another life. The Khazad did not introduce those of higher stature. And yet, the fact that the King's sister used the most intimate and reverent of the appellations she had for Wren - 'the soul sister' - didn't escape Wren's attention. Perhaps, the Dwarf in front of her needed to be reminded of her position. He gave her a dark look and then bowed lowly.

"Alfar will take you to the King's study. A meal has been served for the three of you there." Lady Dis looked at Mira and smiled. "Is this the parchment you've been working so hard on, gamzûna?" she asked, pointing at the scroll in Mira's right hand.

"Aye, my lady," Mira said, lowering her eyes.

"The King will enjoy this gift more than any treasure," Lady Dis said warmly. "And just look at you!" She stepped to the girl and tenderly brushed her hand to Mira's sleeve. "You're finally attired almost appropriately," she added in a pointed tone, and from the corner of her eye Wren caught Svi shrink. "Surely, better velvet can be found for the King's kin," Lady Dis said and glanced at Wren. "I won't hold you, I'm sure my brother is pacing the room in anticipation."

Wren nodded and pulled at Mira's hand, when Lady Dis shifted and leaned to her ear.

"Well done on the dress, 'anaiê," she whispered and gave Wren a cheeky glance. "But what are you going to do when he can't keep his hands off you? The colour suits you fearfully, to say nothing of the bouncy skirts and the lace." She almost unnoticeably nodded towards Wren's cleavage and chuckled.

Wren stared at the Dwarven dame, completely lost for words, and unable even to blink - and Lady Dis barked a low laugh.

"You're such a delightful guhaguh, sister," she murmured. "Don't ever change." She straightened up and suddenly shouted sharply and loudly, making Wren and others jump up. "Urtha!"

Urtha was the Princess' lady-in-waiting and her maid in the Blue Mountains - as well as her squire on the training grounds. Wren was endlessly intimidated by the imposing Dwarven woman.

"Where is she?" Lady Dis grumbled and stomped towards one of the many doors leading to the parlour. "Go, go to your meal. I'll see you at dinner." She threw Wren a quick glimpse over her shoulder. "Unless you're still preoccupied then."

Wren had felt that Lady Dis and she had formed a rather cordial friendship, full of mutual respect and even perhaps the beginnings of tentative affection. They'd travelled together, they'd fought together; together, they'd frozen, starved, scaled mountains, fallen into icy water, and fended off giant spiders, which Wren would definitely see in her nightmares till the day she died. They'd talked, first, grudgingly and only of the matters at hand; later, of their children and the troubles of motherhood; and finally, of the King, and consequently, of the Dwarves as a nation, and of their customs and traditions. Lady Dis was stern, impatient, temperamental, loyal to the extreme, quite inimical towards Men and especially Elves, practical, witty, and capable - and Wren deeply appreciated and cared for the woman. But never in her wildest dreams had Wren expected– this!

Wren still wasn't moving - even breathing proved difficult to her at the moment - and Mira pulled at her hand.

"Mother?"

"Right, yes, we–" Wren had to clear her throat. "We need to go, yes."

Alfar gave them another bow and headed for the widest door in the parlour. Wren and Mira followed, leaving Svava and Svi behind, the faces of both maids excited and hopeful.

The King's parlour, which they passed through first, was nothing like the one they'd been assigned. It was a bare room, with just a long heavy table with over a dozen chairs on each side of it, and two tall, throne-like armchairs, one on each of its ends. There was a fireplace in the room, but it wasn't lit. Wren assumed the chamber was to be used for meetings. Through the parlour, Alfar led them to a door in the opposite wall - and behind it, they found the King's study.

It was a much more welcoming space, with fire crackling in yet another mantel, decorated with tiles with Dwarven traditional patterns in dark blue, carved and glazed. By the furthest wall, immediately facing anyone who entered, there stood the King's writing table - a massive, oaken desk, longer and wider than the biggest dining table Wren had ever seen in her life. It was littered with parchments, maps, and three towering stacks of some enormous volumes were precariously piled on one end. The chair behind the desk was even more monumental than the ones in the parlour. Wren noticed a low and wide daybed by the other wall - and a small dining table in the centre of the room, with three chairs around it.

Lady Dis was wrong, the King wasn't pacing his study. In fact, he wasn't even in the room. Wren looked at the Dwarf who'd accompanied them and saw he was just as confused as she was.

"Ah, there you are," the King's voice came from behind them, and they all turned sharply. "I was starting to lose hope," he laughed. "Thank you, Alfar, you may go."

The Dwarf took a few hasty steps backwards and bowed, while the King ushered Wren and Mira into the study. He softly closed the doors behind him - and looked them over.

"I had some matters to attend to," he said, and a small, impish smile trembled in the corners of his lips. "I see at least some of the things the maids prepared for you came useful."

He slowly passed Wren, leaning on his cane - and she just followed him with her eyes, feeling suddenly speechless. Her heart beat painfully, and she just wasn't at all sure how to behave and what to say. Thankfully, Mira clearly felt none of her trepidation.

"Oh, lord Thorin, there are so many things in our rooms that will be useful!" she said and dashed to him. "The dresses are wonderful! And Svi is such a darling! We took a bath, and the soaps and the oils are so lavish! And I can't wait to sleep in my bed! I've tried the mattress, and no matter how much I jumped it just bounced back and threw me in the air!" Mira flailed her hands wildly. "Oh, and this is my gift for you. I've worked on it since we left the village. There are three mistakes there, but Lord Oddur and Lady Dis said that it was adequate for a child of my age, and that even a Dwarven youngling couldn't do better."

She stretched her hand with the parchment to him, and he accepted it with a small bow. Wren still stood rooted to the spot. The King glimpsed at her and then opened the scroll. Surprise and pleasure lit up his face, making him look even more handsome - and subsequently making Wren only more overwhelmed.

"By Durin's beard, this is fine work!" he exclaimed, studying the map Mira had drawn for him.

It was in the Dwarven mode, with accompanying inscriptions on the sides and names of locations in Khuzdul runes.

"I didn't include anything West of Bree," Mira explained and pointed at the parchment. "We will not go back there, will we?" She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels, in the nervous habit she'd inherited from Wren. "And Lord Oddur told me that the left top corner is the place of honour, so Erebor is not up to the scale." The King was still inspecting the paper in his hand, and Mira frowned and peered at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. "It allowed me to add more details. I copied them from the book one of the guards had with him. But I know it should be more to the right, above Dale, but Lady Dis told me I could just draw this arrow, and–"

"It is excellent," the King said earnestly and met the girl's eyes. "And they were right when they said a Dwarf couldn't do a better job. I can see you've truly put a lot of work in it, and you have an eye for detail."

Mira pepped up, and her cheeks flushed.

"I thank you," he said. "I will cherish this gift."

Mira made a few happy noises, jerked back and forth - and then leaped to him and threw her arms around him.

"We were so, so very worried for you, and Mother cried a lot, and I'm so happy you're alive and well!" she spouted and squeezed him as hard as her slender arms could. "And thank you for inviting us to Erebor! I always knew you wouldn't be able to give us up!"

The King embraced her, pressing his right forearm across her shoulders, his hand fisted loosely.

"Of course I wouldn't," he murmured, and then pushed his cane on his desk, and cupped the back of the girl's head with his left palm. Wren saw him stroke the copper curls of her daughter with his thumb. "And I'm glad you're enjoying Erebor. Tomorrow, I'll show you the Forges, and you can observe the training, just as I promised."

"See, Mother?" Mira twisted out of his embrace and grinned at Wren. "I told you he'd keep his promises." Mira rose on tiptoes, quickly kissed the King's cheek, and turned to the table. "I'm starved! Shall we eat?"

The girl and the Dwarf looked at Wren, and she nodded silently and approached one of the chairs. Mira was already sitting down, and Wren followed her example.

"Wren?" the King called softly, and she lifted her eyes at him. He searched her face, probably wondering why she was so quiet. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice now coloured with worry.

"Yes, yes, of course, everything is–" Her voice broke, her throat constricted with emotion. "I'm just–" She purposefully blinked several times, chasing away her foolish, maudlin tears. "We should eat," she said and gave the two most precious people in her life a loving smile. "I can't wait to have something other than dried meat and pottage."

Mira scrunched her nose in disgust, and the King chuckled and took the third chair.