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*The loneliest day of my life
This part of my life was never recorded in the books of history in any form. This part remained under locks for everyone but a handful of people, which didn't include the majority of my family and remains as such to this day, for what is left of my family. That day I don't know how I survived or why she cursed me to live on in order to remember what I had done to her….with my decisions. That day Thorin the second, grandson of Thror and heir of Durin, not having earned the name Oakenshield yet, remained back there at that snowy, slippery turn half a day ride south of Ravenhill for as long as I can remember. I am old now, sour and tired. I've been through hell all these years and still that day remains the worst day….the most lonely day of my life….that horrid day my hair grew grey streaks in the blink of an eye. So much soul was torn away from me ...that I sometimes think Thorin the second is still there….smiling back at me with malevolence, half hidden behind his youthful raven hair and strong body, wickedly happy that I have lived to regret everything that I said and did…
"Thorin wait!" Dwalin cried behind him, but he was unable to stop. If he stopped now he feared that he would die on the spot. He had to know. He had to see it for himself.
"No…no…no…" each negation fell out of his mouth heavily along with each heaving breath. His war ram galloped quickly above the slippery snowy paths of the narrow road. He heard the unmistakable slip of Dwalin's ram behind him. He felt the vibration of the earth as animal and rider fell on the road. Dwalin's curse in Khuzdul sounded painful and bitten through gritted teeth, yet he didn't even turn to check on his friend. His eyes were already overflowing with tears. He could see the outlines of the road and the trees. He could discern the faded colours as the sun had began setting behind the Lonely Mountain, but not much of anything else.
From the moment the news found him on the training grounds all his senses joined in a single point of urgency. The need to see it first. The need to make sure that what he heard had been correct. Now as he turned the corner and saw the outlines of a carriage his blood froze. The two guards alerted by his fast galloping pulled quickly aside, just in time before he alighted next to them. His fierce gaze turned to them as his wild hair whiplashed his cheeks. "Where is it!?" He thundered and his monumental voice echoed in the frozen ravines below.
"Down there, but you cannot go like this, your Majesty. We need to tie a rope around you." One of the guards tried to reason.
No need to reason with someone who had no reason left at that moment. Thorin threw himself down the side of the cliff, half rolling, half running down its steep face. Using branches to stop his momentum and even tree barks to keep himself from falling to his own death. When he landed next to the carriage he was already cut in several places on his forearms and his cheek was oozing blood from a rather deep gash.
"No…no…no" he muttered as his eyes looked at the carriage with ever-growing panic. He growled as he began searching for her like a maniac. He could only hear his heart thumping hard and nothing else. Their processions were all scattered across the bottom of the cliff. Open packages spilling out her most intimate undergarments. The tears blurred his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. "No…no…please…no." His chant continued as he silently prayed this was a dream when in reality it was a blood curdling nightmare. The front wheel was broken. One piece was still attached to the axis, the other nowhere to be seen. Then he saw a leg…then an arm. He felt his breath catching as his hand grabbed hold of the carriage to keep himself upright. The two ponies were still tied on the reigns. One was dead with a broken neck. The other was struggling to stand on broken legs. Its pained neighing send shivers down his back. His eyes turned to Cael and he felt his stomach turning. A thick wooden plank from the carriage had passed through his torso. Its pointy end was glistening red from Cael's blood as it had saturated the wood all along its length.
Thorin lips begun trembling and he felt the world emptying him into the void. Suddenly all sounds seized, everything got erased and he could only look at her. At her body laying prone, under a tree, near its bark. She looked as if she had decided to lay down in order to rest after a long day's work in the most improbable position. One leg was raised way up near her torso, her arm was twisted behind her back and her face was turned abnormally upwards. She was almost looking at the tree branches above. Strangely she wasn't bloody at all. Only a small trickle was visible at the side of her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, seemingly accusing the snowy sky for her grim fate. He took three quivering steps closer and looked at her beautiful hazel eyes. Her windows to the soul was now void. "Siv?" He whispered already knowing that she couldn't answer.
He kneeled heavily by her side and his wide palm landed on her small back, covering most of it. "Siv please no…I didn't mean what I said. Don't do this to me, please. Don't leave me alone here…". He gasped feeling his chest tightening. More tears run down his cheeks. "I was an idiot, please don't punish me like this. I will deny the crown, I will marry you...I was so wrong, please come back." His wide palm turned into a tight fist and he punched the middle of her back almost in hatred. An empty sound thumbed under his skin. He felt his sobs releasing, shaking his body to the core, but he didn't hear them. His fingers picked up a handful of her coat and curled around it possessively. His other hand covered her cheek and when he felt her frozen skin under his fingers his body spasmed and released a feral cry of despair that resounded across the mountain tops and down the rolling hills. His body bend, defeated by fate, by choices, by luck and covered hers protectively. Not wanting to let her go, he bawled above her dead body until Dwalin's broken voice pierced through his excruciating pain.
"Oh Mahal…"
The hands of his friend enraptured his back, but he couldn't move. He remained there for a long time letting his wails, become hard sobs and then whimpers. Then he was quiet, with his eyes burning and his heart empty and cold. There was only silent lament for him. Dwalin's body remained on top of him, protecting him from the hard elements with his coat as Thorin's body protecting Siv's. Only when the dry convulsions of his chest became scarce did he pull back just enough to see her empty eyes forever staring at the frozen branches above. He raised his hand and closed her eyes, feeling once more his chest welling when her eyelids resisted him. Another convulsion came up, accompanied by a painful groan.
"Thorin let me carry her on top, please. It's over, she's gone." Dwalin's quiet voice intruded his thoughts once more.
He drew back and with hands that were shaking too much he unclipped her belt. "Take her father up. I will bring her." His voice was a distant croak, almost unrecognisable. He felt the coldness hitting his back as Dwalin followed his request.
Then his fingers got buried in her tight braids and touched his hair bead. The one that bore his sigil. The one he gave her that amazing day they remained in the stables and kissed till night fell on them. One of the blessed nights they decided once more not to honour the Dwarfish marital customs and allowed themselves to be consumed by a fiery tornado that took their breaths away. His tears ran down the side of his nose and touched the top of his lip. He was sobbing again as he began undoing her braid slowly. His fingers moved expertly even though the falling snow flakes had numbed them down completely.
He licked the saltiness of his tears and another sob escaped him when he remembered the warmth of her naked skin under his hot fingertips even more boldly now that she was frozen. Instead of being honoured to feel it now once more, he was cursed to feel the stiffness of her hair and the coldness of the golden bead as he pulled it free.
Even though he ended their relationship when he chose his family instead of her, now he felt the totality of that ending irreversible. It would have been a difficult task to live without her, but at least the knowledge that she was alive and trying to make some sort of life away from him was a consolation. Now?…nothing could console him and he felt like his heart would never rise up from the darkest pits.
When he pulled out the hair bead he looked at her undone braid, slightly moving with the frozen wind and he felt his heart clenching. As another torrent of sobs broke out of his chest he began redoing the braid with as much patience and care as he had taken to undo it. When he finished he used one of her extra beads to keep it in place. Then he pushed her around and saw all the frozen leaves sticking on her coat and breeches. It felt like her body was part of the forest bed, like he was overturning a fallen log that had remained unmoved for centuries. He tucked her hair away from her pale face and his thumb caressed her blue lips.
The distressed neighing of the broken pony intruded his nightmare so violently that he felt adrenaline rushing through his veins. He sprang up so unexpectedly that Dwalin jerked back surprised. He pulled his sword and pierced the pony's head with one clean stroke. The animal exhaled and closed its eyes. Thorin withdrew his bloody sword and seethed it. Then his haunted stare fixed on Siv once more.
"Let me help you with her." Dwalin's voice sounded distant, even alien to his buzzing ears.
"Go up with her father." He said with a rough voice that felt unused for centuries. He remained there standing still, not feeling the snow freezing his skin. The heavy footsteps of Dwalin echoed into the forest as the large Dwarf struggled in order to bring the body of Cael back up. The guards send down a rope and that was how Dwalin managed his impossible task. Thorin remained there looking over at the dead love of his life for what seemed like ages.
Then he slipped his arms under her small fragile body and picked her up. Her head folded backwards with a crackling sound that made his stomach turn. He used the crease of his elbow to bring it back up. Then he undertook the formidable task of bringing her up himself. He denied the rope thrice and it was only by Dwalin's caring solicitude that he managed to hoist her to the top of the cliff. When they reached the carriage he felt like he didn't belong in this world anymore. His mind had escaped into nothingness. He placed her respectfully next to her father and covered them both with heavy quilts. He rode back on the pony of the carriage, keeping his empty stare ahead.
Many times during their silent ride did Dwalin try to speak to him, but Thorin kept his expressionless eyes away from the carriage and his mouth shut. When they finally reached the gates of Erebor, he alighted holding Siv's belt tightly in his hand. When he looked at the guards bowing for him he felt completely numb, but as he took the first step inside his blood began pumping quicker and quicker.
The memories of their times together came rushing to his head hot and demanding, making his nape crawl with the same dormant wrath which made him kill the pony with such ease and the need to avenge her unfair death became dire. But avenge her against whom? Nature? The broken wheel of her carriage that slipped on the frozen road and send them to their deaths? Or maybe avenge her against himself, for he was the one who send her away?
He had chosen his lineage and his family to a shared life with her. He could have kept her there. They could have been sleeping at this very moment naked under some heavy quilt warming their bodies against the cold, embracing lovingly as husband and wife. Instead he send her away and now she was dead, with her neck broken and her body sprawled in that carriage like a rag doll.
When his furious pace echoed upon the long bridge that led to the throne, he was so angry he could barely keep himself from drawing his sword and slaying everyone in front of him. His eyes fell on his grandfather. The bane of his existence, sitting there peacefully on his great throne with the Arkenstone sparkling above his head. His long beard was as always full of gems and his long golden sawn coat was touching the ground. His fingers were full of rare rings and amidst them was the one ring that corrupted his soul. The ring that obliged Thorin to send Siv away in order to help his family. His throat convulsed and his chest vibrated as a low key growl tried to emerge and he pushed it back down ruthlessly. Then his eyes fell at Thrain who unclasped his hands and walked quickly over when he saw his son coming to him wet from head to foot and full of bloody scratches.
"Have you been up the snowy peaks of Ravenhill? What news Thorin?" Thror asked per usual, not having felt the urgency of Thorin's pace. Neither had he noticed the painful expression of Dwalin who was following him.
Thorin ignored his grandfather and came face to face with his father.
"What's wrong son? What happened?" Thrain frowned truly concerned.
Thorin opened his mouth to speak but instead his chest convulsed and only a moan came up that made him frown even deeper. He reached out and grabbed his father's arm. He drew it to him violently and his wild eyes bore into Thrain's. Instead of making an effort to speak, he crushed his father's forearm with so much strength that Thrain opened his palm and his mouth in pain. Then Thorin slammed Siv's belt in his father's open palm and whispered with a broken voice. "She is dead."
Their eyes burned onto each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then Thorin turned around and left.
"What in the name of Mahal has gotten into the boy Thrain?" Thror asked truly flabbergasted.
As for Thrain, his pale face settled…he tightened his fingers around the belt until his knuckles became white and his only eye blazed under his bushy eyebrow.
That was the last he saw of his older son for a fortnight and the last he heard of his voice for almost two full moon circles….
Thorin opened his eyes feeling streams of sweat running down his temples. His hand went up in his hair and searched in dead panic for his golden bead. When he touched it he sighed in relief and closed his eyes again, longing to shed off the dreaded nightmare that had overtaken his nap. He had eaten with difficulty some of the food the maiden brought him, opened up some of the maps in order to refresh his memory of Erebor's structure and then fatigue overtook him. Overlooking his serious wound he pressed on until his body gave up. When he sat on that comfortable easy chair intending to rest his eyes and body for a while, he didn't expect to sleep upright within moments.
His fingers caressed the ring on the third finger of his right hand thoughtfully. It was the ring he forged after her death. It had his rune and hers carved together. His sister had been the most insistent in learning what the other rune stood for, but he avoided her easily by telling her that it meant Sovereign. She made fun of him for thinking so highly about himself, but that was the end of her intrusive questions. The rest of his family never truly bothered, apart from Thrain, who already knew what those runes meant.
He inhaled deeply and the need to tear away his skin in order to escape from the heat of that fire felt overpowering. He pushed himself up and went to his office, relishing at the cooler air that was there. Longing to shed something off of him, no matter what that was, he undid his hexagon plated belt buckle and took off his leather vest. He sat down again and drew in a deep breath of gratification.
Time rolled by with him resting his head on his palm and keeping his eyes closed. Trying to push away the images that could threaten to shake his sanity to the roots, as he remembered every single detail of Siv's unfair death. The temperature on the frozen mountainside, the howling of the wind amidst the trees, the initial hardness of the pony's skull and the soft squishiness immediately after his sword thrust through it. The stiffness of Siv's coat as he turned her around and the leaves sticking on the fabric of her breeches. Last but not least he remembered the crackling sound of her neck…a strong shudder shook his body and all his hair stood up in terrified attention…that sound was still echoing in his ears like a never ending repetitive torment.
A knock on the door made him reopen his eyes and try to establish a direct line with reality.
"Enter!" He spat through his teeth, not in the mood to see anyone.
Fili entered. "Are you working?"
Thorin shook his head. "Come in, let me check your back."
Fili came around the desk. "I am much better uncle, don't worry. Oin's been on me like a hawk."
Thorin's hand touched Fili's back above the tourniquet that Oin had been religiously changing for the Prince. "Does it hurt a lot?"
Fili smiled. "It's much better and you worry more than you should."
Thorin's lips curled down. "I didn't take care of you as I should have my boy. Will you ever be able to forgive me?"
Fili kneeled next to him and touched his hand lovingly. "You are like a father to me and you've been taking care of me since I can remember. Don't guilt trip yourself. There was nothing that you could have done differently."
"I could have left you behind with Dis. Like Thrain did with me when he left to retrieve that damned ring. He wanted me to be alive in order to take care of his people. I could have done the same to you and Kili. You are the next in line for the throne. I jeopardised your safety. I didn't act wisely." Thorin's voice was overburdened with regret. His recent nightmare was not assisting him in overcoming all these feelings either, it was actually feeding all the darkness that was slumbering in him.
"I thought you wanted to have your best warriors by your side." Fili looked at his uncle calmly.
"My best warriors are the ones that will take over the Kingdom after my death." Thorin raised his brow.
"I wouldn't have stayed behind and you know my little brother would have followed you anywhere. All this guilt trip is useless. Didn't you want to fight in Moria next to your father? Did he keep you safe back in the Blue Mountains or did he take you with him?" Fili tilted his head.
Thorin shook his head. "It's not the same. Moria was a joined purpose of all the clans of our kin."
"Erebor was also a joined purpose." Fili interposed.
Thorin's brow clouded. "Moria was a battle of several thousands. This mission was doomed from the start. Only thirteen Dwarves…"
"Only thirteen Dwarves had the balls to reclaim Erebor for all the Seven Kingdoms. Don't you realise what you have accomplished?" Fili frowned unable to believe Thorin's self punishment.
"I asked you before. At what cost did we do that, son? I never wanted Kili dead…" He felt his eyes watering.
Fili frowned. "No one did, but soldiers fall in a war. We are soldiers uncle. Some of us stood back up, some remained fallen, but they fell bravely. That's what matters. Don't think that it's not difficult for me too. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that Kili is not here anymore."
Thorin's demeanour shadowed. "I lost my grandfather in the battle of Azanulbizar and you've lost your father. One can accept losing an older family member that has lived their life to the fullest, but losing a brother….it is not easy my son. It took me a long time to come to terms with Frerin's loss. Sometimes I still think I haven't managed it, but the pain is bearable. That's all I can say to you."
Frerin's gaze was fixed on his uncle. "I know."
Thorin's brow wrinkled. "We all have to move on. Your mother needs you now and this Kingdom too. I can see you standing tall, taking command and I feel proud of you. Mourn for your brother, lament him, but know that it does get better and Kili's spirit shall forever stand by you."
Fili smiled sadly.
Thorin's eyes looked searchingly at Fili's face for a long moment. Then he pulled him close and pointed at the maps he had been studying before. "See here?"
Fili glanced over. "These look like the furnaces you fired up when Smaug was after us."
"Indeed they are. Now let's see if I remember this golden abandoned tomb correctly." Thorin face turned dour as he pulled in more maps from the side of Thror's elaborate desk. He opened them up with the help of Fili and mumbled beneath his breath for several moments, when the door knocked again.
This time it was Fili who called "enter" as Thorin was too preoccupied with his maps.
Gloin and Balin came in together.
Thorin gazed at them absently and saw his maiden standing loyally outside the doors. "Bring her in also." He commanded and turned his attention back to the maps. He took a large pen and began cycling some areas.
Balin led Eilin inside and she stood next to the doors, while Gloin and Thorin's advisor approached the desk.
Thorin looked fleetingly at Fili. "See here?" He pointed at the large circles he had made.
Fili nodded quizzically.
"There are furnaces like the ones you saw in the upper levels. Mostly they were used to melt gold and silver, but also for heating up the place. I want you to take any brimstone masters, if there are such trades amidst the soldiers..." He looked searchingly at Fili.
"There are." The young Prince hurried to reassure him.
"You will fire up these furnaces that I have circled and you will start from the lowest levels. That will assist the ones higher up to fire up more easily. Are there any water-works masters?" Thorin continued.
"There are." Fili replied quickly.
"The water pipes will help you work up the furnaces. Water is the force behind the wheels that heat up these beasts. Ask Bombur's help, he was very good at that at my Halls." Thorin frowned thoughtfully.
Balin shook his head. "If the bellows are not rusted from being unused for so many ages they will fire up easily enough."
"They worked up in the last level. They are still burning, aren't they?" Thorin stare was stolid.
Balin nodded. "Yes."
"Do you think you got this?" He rolled the maps and handed them at Fili.
The Prince took them proudly and have him a curt nod. "I've got it, don't worry. I will have them all working by midday tomorrow."
"Are you done with Fili? I need you pronto." Gloin said with an inscrutable expression on his face.
"Go on." Thorin fixed his stare on Gloin who pranced almost proudly around the desk and opened up one of the scrolls in front of him.
"Everything is done. I just need your signature here and here." Gloin pointed at the designated areas.
Fili pulled back discreetly, but Thorin's hand kept him still. "Remain, for you shall soon take over some of these tasks." Then he wrote his name in beautiful calligraphy, which should have belonged to the hands of an academic, not the rough hands of a battle-hardened warrior.
"I also need your sigil above the signature." Gloin glanced at Thorin almost happily.
Thorin's lips twisted cheekily, but he overturned the candle that was burning in front of him and then turned his royal ring onto the melted wax. "You seem to love the typicality of it all."
Gloin's smile sparkled under his thick ginger beard. "You cannot even imagine the satisfaction I am getting out of this after a year on the road without any proper signatures. You people were killing me!"
Thorin chuckled, almost delighted at his treasurer's contentment. "When shall you be ready?"
"I hope tomorrow morning first thing." Gloin gathered the scroll with religious care.
"Notify me when it's time." Thorin leaned back and caressed his bearded jawline.
"I shall men Uzbâd!*" Gloin slammed his fist on his chest.
"Thank you." Thorin smiled.
"My bloody pleasure!" Gloin declared and walked proudly out of the room.
"Don't know what you did, but he seems the happiest I've ever seen him." Balin pointed above his shoulder.
Thorin's stare fell on the maiden for a moment before returning to Balin. "He's taken over the treasury and he's got someone to ask signatures out of. That's enough to keep him happy for the next few centuries."
Balin approached and pulled something behind his back. "You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you taking over the place so quickly after getting out of bed."
Thorin's eyes turned black as Balin placed his Raven Crown at the side of the desk. "Where did you find this?" His tone dropped several octaves.
"Bilbo brought it to me." Balin raised his brow.
"I threw it away for a reason." Thorin's blunt stare pierced through Balin.
"It returned for a reason also. Throw it away again if you wish. It's your crown laddie." Balin crossed his arms patiently.
Thorin leaned back and felt a sharp pain coming from his stomach. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Was there anything else?"
"We've got newcomers and also the diggers have brought down the bodies from the secret entrance. You have requested to check on them." Balin rejoined.
"Newcomers?" Thorin opened his eyes slowly.
Balin nodded. "Indeed. They claim to be families arriving from the Grey Mountains. They say the retreating Orcs have caused chaos at the small scattered Dwarfish villages that were spread thin between Gundabad and Ered Mithrin. They drove whoever was not killed on the spot, away. Most began the dangerous trip to the IronHills, but soon got word that the Longbeards have returned to Erebor. Everyone changed directions and the first ones are already arriving, asking for shelter. We have several families with women and children."
Thorin's eyes glistened angrily. "Orcs are taking revenge, are they?"
"I don't think we've seen anything yet. Roac has send off emissaries to each of the Seven Kingdoms and believe me word about Erebor gets out wherever they come across our kin. That will bring us immigration flows from all over Middle Earth and we are not ready to feed and sustain so many people yet." Balin's voice held a tone of uncertainty.
Thorin nodded broodily. "Very well, show the new families the abandoned abodes at the midland vaults. Let them choose a home each. Write down their professions and put whoever is not wounded to work immediately. Even the women. We need working hands for everything."
Balin bowed. "Very well laddie" -before leaving he looked over at Eilin who was standing frozen with her head bowed low. "Nice outfit young lady and a lovely hair-do."
"Thank you, Lord Balin." She whispered.
Balin smiled at Thorin and closed the door behind him.
Fili pursed his lips. "Are you going to do anything about the Orcs of Ered Mithrin?"
Thorin's eyes thinned upon his nephew. "Patience son."
Then his heavy stare lingered on Eilin. She was wearing a pair of matching breaches and vest along with an unused pair of boots. A thin belt was around her waist and his discreet sigil was on her lapels. His eyebrow rose critically at the four elaborate braids she had managed on her very long hair, offering him the first clear view of her now clean face. "Did you light up the fire?" His calm voice made her look up at him.
"Yes, my King."
"And you cleaned the plates?" His eyebrow rose an inch more.
"Yes, my King."
"Did you bring this milk up?" He pointed at the untouched expensive looking cup.
"Yes, my King."
"You did all this while I was asleep?" He scrutinised her deeply.
"Yes…." Her eyes were stuck on her boots.
He raised his hand derisively. "…my King. You can answer without using that addition to each sentence or you will surely drive me mad."
She bit her bottom lip nervously. "Forgive me…"
After a restless silence that made her jitter under her new braids, his appreciative voice send a shudder down her spine. "Good job." She felt her body deflating at his recognition.
Fili looked up from his maps. "You are scaring the poor girl to bits" -he noticed and then turned to her- "By the way I wish to thank you for taking such good care of my mother, Eilin."
"It was my honour, Sir." She curtsied respectfully.
Fili turned to Thorin. "Tell me how in the name of Vala Aulë did you manage to tear this girl away from my mother?"
"In case you haven't noticed I can barely do my own belt in. I need help and I asked for it. That is what you have all been suggesting, wasn't it?" Thorin pursed his lips testily. His left hand flexed under the desk and his nose flared when he felt its weakness. Did he want to reveal to his nephew that his sword hand felt useless now? Or that he was suffering from mind bending nightmares almost every time he slept?
Fili looked at him disheartened. "I am sorry uncle, I meant this comment light heartedly."
Thorin's gaze hardened up. "I know son. Now go take care of the furnaces. With all these people coming in we need to warm this place up."
Fili nodded and with a sharp bow he left behind a very bleak Thorin whose eyes were burning grimly the top of Eilin's head for what felt like forever. Finally deciding that sitting there, musing on the long complicated braids of this girl was not going to help him in any manner he drank some milk and then pushed himself up. The moment he stretched, his stomach screamed in pain and he grabbed the back of his chair for support without noticing that she instantly dashed to him with extended arms.
"That's you thinking that you can hold me up I suppose?" His voice was sullen.
She shook her head not knowing what to tell him. She just wanted to help and he sure looked like he needed her help at that moment.
He pressed his lips and straightened his body again. "Bring me my vest."
She rounded his chair and picked it up. Then she lifted it for him. He wore it wordlessly, but as she came in front of him to do his belt buckle his austere eyes made her draw back. "I can handle." He sounded dismissive.
She lowered her head and swallowed a rather dry throat.
He leaned his body at the edge of his desk thus enabling himself to buckle up.
After a few silent moments he spoke again. "Who in the name of heaven told you to make so many braids?" He looked at her fleetingly a with dismissive frown.
Eilin's cheeks instantly glowed red and she run her fingers above her braids. "Lord Balin. Did I mess it up, Sir?"
Thorin pursed his lips. "I am not the one to give hair advice, but braids in my opinion are just a waste of effort."
If Eilin could have been able to take them all out right at that moment she would have done so. As it was she just stippled her fingers in front of her apron and curtsied silently.
"Fili is right, you do look scared out of your mind." Thorin said, but his lips turned up in a half smile that she didn't get to see.
She looked up sharply and shook her head quickly. "No sir, of course not! I am just not used to serving royalty."
Thorin's gaze escaped to the crown that was sitting at the edge of his grandfather's desk. He looked at it and then at the whole office. Not only did he have a problem identifying that cursed crown as his own now, but also this office as well. "Did I act inappropriately in my sleep again?" He asked suddenly.
She knew instantly that he was talking about his usual nightmares. "No Sir." She didn't sound certain though and he picked it up easily.
"You don't sound convincing."
She hesitated for several moments. "You did struggle slightly and I took care not to approach you as you have requested." She whispered.
"You did well. Did I say any names?" He raised his brow.
"None I was able to discern." She frowned.
He nodded feeling partly relieved. "You don't have to look or act so scared as this is all temporary. You will remain for a couple of days in my service and then you shall return to my sister's. I won't require much from you as I have been used to living without any servitude for over a century. The only thing I want is for you to keep silent about my nightmares."
"I shall never speak of them to anyone." She wanted to sound as honest as she felt.
"That's all I need." He whispered and without any more words he walked to the door. She followed from a respectful distance and tried to stop her heart from galloping outside her chest.
Four days...
Alright and how was she supposed to serve him for four days, when she felt so nervous when they were alone? She knew her nervousness didn't derive from the fact that he was a man. She had worked around men for years both in the tavern and in the Iron Hills. Maybe it was his stature, his name, his legacy or the fact that he was one of the bloody legends of the Lonely Mountain. He was the son of all those Dwarfish forefathers that had written history for their kin in golden letters. She used to think that Thorin Oakenshield was an ancient King with long white hair and a long beard down to his knees, benevolent eyes of immense wisdom and a voice that would derive from the rocks of Erebor. That is the face that she used to paint back in the tavern at least when she heard stories about him.
Instead she fell bug eyed across ….him….who was neither old, nor white, nor full of benevolence. He had eyes of fire and an imposing presence that scared her to bits. She didn't know if he had immense wisdom and she was certain she would never find out. Maybe the only thing she had gotten right about this legend was his voice. She was so immersed in her thoughts about him, that she almost bumped into him when he stopped at the gates abruptly.
Dwalin lifted Orcrist and presented it to Thorin. "It was long due for you to have it back." He smiled proudly.
Thorin peered over at it. "Did you find it at Ravenhill?"
Dwalin shoved it in the King's hands. "Drew it out of the chest of that white beast with great pleasure."
Thorin shuddered and lifted it with his right hand, but it felt so wrong. So wrong that he wanted to throw it to the ground. His dominant hand twitched needfully and then wrapped around his stomach one more time, trying to hide from that sword whose perfect blade was glistening under the pale sun. He couldn't even lift his sword with his good hand, never mind wielding it properly.
"Don't you want to try it out?" Dwalin frowned wanting to see an expression of pleasure in his friend's face.
"Not now Dwalin..." -Thorin nodded with his head towards the long caravan of families who were passing through the gates. Balin was showing them where to go- "Many more than I had originally thought." He said and a shadow fell on his brow.
"Balin told you about Ered Mithrin?" Dwalin crossed his arms above his war axe.
Thorin nodded. "An act of revenge."
"We can chase after those boneless Orcs. What do you think?" Dwalin turned to him.
Thorin shook his head sternly. "No, we have to regroup. We have too many casualties. We cannot organise another attack with only a skeleton army that's half wounded."
I cannot even lift my sword, never mind cut down Orcs with it - he thought and he winced painfully. His left arm tightened around his body protectively.
Dwalin noticed. "Are you in pain?"
"I am never free of pain." Thorin pursed his lips.
"Where is your cane?" Dwalin looked around.
Thorin's eyes gave off a angry glint. "It's forgotten somewhere. Let it be."
Dwalin opened his mouth to speak, but one of the men from the progression escaped the line and run up to them. His wife and two kids followed close behind looking terrified, "King Oakenshield! You are Thorin Oakenshield! I know you, my Lord." He kneeled heavily.
Thorin winced. "Don't kneel, get up."
The Dwarf stood up and looked above his shoulder at the worried faces of his family. "They slaughtered everyone along the foot of the mountain. They came with vengeance crying out your name and they killed with no exceptions. We ran as fast as we could, carrying our wounded and abandoning our dead behind. Thank you for taking me and my family in. Bless your father and your grandfather. I've lived under their rule here in Erebor for years before the dragon took over our Kingdom. I was so young back then, but so were you. Thank you for reclaiming our land and helping us out in our time of need." The Dwarf grabbed Thorin's hand and kissed it with a reverence that made him shudder. This was not why he was here. He was not his grandfather Thror who enjoyed people kissing his hand.
He withdrew it and forced himself to forget the pain in his stomach and use both hands to steady the man. "Take your family inside and let Balin show you to an abode. Be aware that there is little food or heat, but we are trying our best with the few resources that we have."
"I can help you! I am a water-works master! My name is Alfar, this is my son Alfvari, my wife Jódís and our wee girl Jóhild. My son was learning the sword-smith trade back at our village. We can help you. Ask anything from me!" Alfar smiled widely. His eager eyes betrayed the terror he had felt until he could bring his family back into safety.
"I can hunt for you! I know how to kill wild boar!" The young Alfvari declared proudly.
Thorin smiled at him. "I am sure you can son. Tell Balin and he shall put you amongst the rest of the hunters. Until we manage to organise things better it will be good if each family caught its own food."
Alfar nodded and clasped his crying wife's hand. He kissed it tenderly. "Did you hear that dear? We will be safe now. We are safe!"
She gave her husband a soft nod and such a relieved, but sad smile, that Thorin felt his heart twitching. The little girl held her mother's hand tightly and she was munching on the leather string of her coat. She was looking bug eyed at the Dwarf who was way too tall for his kin, talking to her parents with such warmth that slowly her fear began backing away. The giant's eyes fell on her then and she instantly giggled as saliva run down her chin and on the collar of her threadbare coat.
Thorin felt his lips upturning slightly. "Jóhild is your name?"
The girl saw the dim winter sun hiding behind the giant's flowing hair and she nodded mesmerised.
The giant kneeled down in front of her. "What can you do to help us then?"
"I can sing…" She said and munched on the string again.
Thorin's smile reached the goose trails of his eyes. "Will you sing for me?"
"Yeah sure!" She said and began singing a lullaby that her mother used to tell her. It spoke of ghouls and beast slayers, but she was too young to understand the words. When she finished she offered him an honest wide smile and reached out to touch the giant's hair.
Thorin didn't pull away from her small hands. "You sing beautifully."
"Thanks mister!" She said and her fingers tunnelled through his mane searching and searching for anything she could get.
He raised his brow. "Did you find anything important buried in there?"
Her fingers tightened around a hair bead and she drew it off of him. "I found this! Can I have it?" She asked innocently.
Thorin looked at it long and hard before tilting his head. "It's too big for your hair."
She pouted her lip sadly. "Is it?"
He pointed at his bead. "It matters not. Keep it and wear it when your hair grows longer, okay?"
Her eyes looked at him adoringly and she beamed a toothless smile to him. "Thanks mister!" She giggled and looked at her mother whose eyes were streaming with tears. Why was her mother so sad, she couldn't understand. This giant seemed like a nice person. Okay, maybe a little scary, but nice.
Thorin stood up with great effort and Dwalin had to steady him.
"We heard you have been gravely wounded my King." Alfar asked showing his honest concern.
"I am slowly recovering. Now please follow Balin." Thorin gave him a fleeting smile and nodded at Balin who led them inside. They passed him by with many looks of gratefulness, but Thorin was reserving his sweetest smile along with a wink for the little girl who giggled and ran to hide her face in her mother's garments. During all this interaction Thorin had totally missed the burning looks that Eilin was giving him.
"Is that them?" He asked and approached the carriage that was carrying several skeletons.
The two soldiers who stood in front of it nodded. "We brought down everyone we found at the side entrance."
Thorin felt his throat closing down. "Very well."
"That's them alright." Dwalin rejoined quietly and crossed his arms.
"She will be buried with her cousin in the forest burial grounds." Thorin said and pulled himself up on the carriage.
Dwalin climbed up next to him. "We need masons for that."
"I am a mason, I can help." One of the two soldiers said.
"Climb up." Dwalin ordered him and then turned to Thorin.
His face was inexpressive and cold and remained like that as he led the carriage away from the gates.
"What's up lassie? Is it your turn to brood after him? Is his mood contagious?" Balin crossed his hands in front of his stomach happily.
She jerked back and gave him an uncomfortable smile. "No, I mean yes...I mean no!" She rubbed her face feeling so out of place.
"Are you having thoughts of following him?" Balin pointed at the departing carriage.
"Yes...isn't that my job? To always serve him?" She winced.
"He's got his bodyguard with him, don't worry. Your servitude stops at these gates, you are not obliged to follow him into the wilderness."
She exhaled and rubbed her eyes. "Shall I wait for him here until he returns then?'
"That'd be wise. You look confused and overburdened, but when I left you at your room you seemed happy and rather decisive. What caused this shift in you?' Balin frowned.
She felt her cheeks mounting with colour. "The King disconcerts me Lord Balin, but I can't be the only one."
Balin humphed. "No you are not, don't worry. He does that to everyone. Just keep your cool and continue what you are doing. You can't mess up that way."
She smiled, partially relieved that she was not the only one quivering in her boots whenever the King was near. "Do you want me to help you with the new families, whilst I wait?"
Balin smiled widely. "Oh, thank you lassie! Sit in that damned chair that's been breaking my back since noon and write down the names of the families and their professions. Do you know how to write?" He asked in afterthought.
She sat down and tried to shake away the heaviness of her last thoughts. "I do, don't worry Lord Balin."
A/N: * My King
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