A/N: My darling Just4Me and my other readers, as per usual it is becoming longer than I initially planned. At the moment it is one more chapter after this one, but who knows? :)
Frerin's first thought is that Wren had taken a lover from Men and bore his child. Many years ago they discussed that a woman of Men most likely could not have a child of a Dwarf but still Wren has been taking herbs to prevent conception. Frerin feels lost and betrayed. He is taking slow breaths in, his eyes fixed on the floor. He cannot even look at her.
Thorin's first thought is that Wren has premeditated such move, that it is her way to ensure her status in Erebor. He is enraged, and then the understanding dawns. It is either his son or a nephew that she is carrying. Or a daughter or a niece. His eyes fall on her flat stomach, and he sees her small hands splayed on it protectively. He lifts his eyes at her and sees that her lips are pressed in a resolute line and there is a challenge in her burning irises.
All Wren cares about at the moment is the well-being of her unborn child. She realised what was going on a few days ago, and she spent all afternoon hiding in a far corner of the library, sitting in an armchair, her knees pulled to her nose. She has been taking herbs, she has given up on the hope of becoming a mother years ago. She often cries quietly in her bath chambers after assisting midwives at a delivery. She spends hours in the infirmary if there is an ailing child. She has had a very lonely life. When she is overtired or agitated, she has dreams of four children playing in the grass and calling her "amad."
She can feel Thorin's derisive stare on her face, she almost wants to run, or hide, anything to protect the small life inside her. But she needs to understand where they are standing. She has nowhere to go, not with a child under her heart, with a winter approaching, and even more so, not knowing how the parturiency is to progress... She might need assistance of healers, she might need herbs, she is not endangering her child. She does not care what happens to her, she needs to ensure the safety and happiness of her child.
She has obviously pondered possible scenarios. Everything can remain the same, she can stay the mistress of Frerin, and just as her presence in Erebor, the presence of her child could just be left undisputed by the Khazad. She is not his wife, neither her, nor the babe will have any rights under the Mountain.
Wren knows both men well by then, and she knows that the circumstances will not remain the same now that she is expecting. As light and content as Frerin seems, he is a Dwarf. He could share her body, but as little as he understands it himself, he has been less and less willing to see Thorin in their bedchambers in the last few moons. Something has changed for him, it is not in his character to linger on these thoughts, but he is more prone to rage outbursts these days, he is less patient and even, and spends more time in the training yard.
And she also can see how much the way Thorin looks at her has changed. She remembers a night last moon, when he slipped under the covers, their eyes met, and he rolled over her. He gently placed a finger over her lips, his member pushed into her, she arched and opened up accepting him, he was moving into her, his palms open under her shoulder blades, the calloused scorching palms under her tingling skin. He was placing soft kisses over her face, and then he pressed his temple to hers, his hips moving in a measured determined rhythm. He brought them both to completion and she did not remember falling asleep, but she knew it was in the comfort of his arms.
Wren trusts neither of them to have a sound judgment, both their faces are dark now, they are clenching fists in identical gestures, and she takes a small step back. They are of Khazad, they will stop at nothing to protect and cherish their children, but she also knows that in a few minutes all the aggravation that has been brewing in these chambers will finally spill.
"And what are you intending to do now, Wren?" Frerin's voice is flat, and acidic hatred spills on Wren's insides. So now he is asking about her intentions and desires?! She slowly exhales, she is being unfair, he has never forced her into anything. Circumstances have. She was infatuated with him, and he gave her everything he had to offer. She is no Dwarf, they stayed together and drifted through life the best way they could.
When Thorin came into their life, Frerin had actually asked her opinion before even suggesting it to his brother, which is unusual for a Dwarf. A non-Dwarven woman as a constant mistress, as rare as such happens for the Khazad, is perceived as property. She is never to be a wife, and Frerin has been generous and respectful towards her. On the other hand, she could always leave. She cannot now. And there was always a chance she could have been asked to leave the mountain if she was no longer needed. She would expect a generous compensation, but even horses are given the last opulent dinner before they are put down. She agreed on Thorin joining them because she knew that was what Frerin wanted. And she had had dreams of him, suffocating, intoxicating. Unlike Frerin, he frightens her. And right now she wishes she could explain everything to him, but if she talks to him, she will create the disbalance. She is too cautious to do it right now, she needs to understand where both of them stand first.
"I will talk to healers. I am certain it is not unprecedented, they must have heard of Half-Dwarven babes, considering the libidinousness of the Khazad." His answer will tell her a lot.
"Are you saying it is mine?!" His eyes fly up to her face, and she quickly calculates what he must have been thinking. Oh, a lover from Men no doubt. She breathes out in relief, that can be easily disproved once the child is born.
"Or mine," Thorin's voice is quiet, and a shudder runs through her body. She did not expect this. She was concerned with whether they would allow her to stay under the Mountain, she did not expect either of them to care whose child it is. She has been the woman of both of them, convenient and unmentionable, she assumed the child would have the same status. She just expected them to argue over the decorum around the current situation. She did not expect the low menace rolling in Thorin's voice. Her eyes meet Thorin's, and she does not understand the emotion splashing in them.
Wren also knows who the father is, but it matters not. She needs to be careful, she needs to ensure the child's future. Her hands clench over her stomach, as if placing additional defence between the tiny beating heart and the two men who have all the power over her.
Frerin places the first punch. For the last half an hour they have been arguing over what is the proper thing to do, Thorin is insisting Wren is to be placed in separate rooms and no explanation is provided to anyone. He suggests they just wait and take care of her, which makes Wren believe that he is hoping to figure out who the father is once the baby is born. He is not looking at her. She is not of importance, she thinks, it does not even come to his mind to ask her.
Frerin insists everything remains the same. He throws looks at her from time to time, he is more and more agitated. She knows understanding has started setting in him, there is a child, and he decides to treat the situation as if it is his. He says Wren should remain in his chambers, if they do not discuss it with anyone, the matter will not become public. He evokes the Dwarven tradition of having no intimacy with an expecting woman, and Wren understands it is meant for Thorin. Thorin's burning eyes are on her, roaming her body, and she makes another small step back. And that is when it starts.
"Wren, sit, for Mahal's sake," Thorin's voice is irritated, "This conversation will obviously take long."
"I do not seem to be participating in it," Wren speaks at the same time as Frerin.
"Do not tell her what to do, nadad, it is not your council hall for you to impose your will," Frerin's jaw clenches, and Wren shrinks back. The thing Frerin hates most is upsetting the existing order, and that makes him unreasonable, enraged, dangerous. At the moment he understands that changes are coming.
"Any chamber is my chamber here, nadad," Thorin is plain snarling through his teeth, "I am the King." He has switched to Khuzdul, and Wren wonders if he is trying to hide the meaning of their conversation from her.
"And you have always treated it as such, and yet I am reminding you, you have no power in my bedchambers." Frerin jumps on his feet.
Wren assumed there would be physical altercation, but she did not expect it to start so soon. She was planning to leave as soon as tempers rose. She also now knows their positions on the question of her pregnancy, and she understands that she needs to do something to protect herself. She cannot get tangled in the middle of their conflict. She is once again nothing but property that they are now unwilling to share. She can imagine them standing in front of each other with these exact stubborn, dark expressions when they were children and both wanted the same pony.
Wren is exhausted, although she has seemingly recovered from her ailment in Winter, she feels thinned. She feels like a broken doll, as if her joints ache although there is no pain. Recently both men in her bed have been more libidinous and demanding, and she has started refusing them, her body is not coping. And now she needs to grow a life inside her.
Despair and hatred spill onto her mind, she starts shaking, but then she wills herself to calm down. She does not possess the luxury to crumble down. She clenches her jaw, her mind whirls, and suddenly she just needs to leave the room. She can think of only one place to go. She turns around and rushes to the door, and that is when Frerin places the first blow. Thorin did not expect it, Frerin's fist falls on his cheekbone, blood bursts in a fan of scarlet drops, and after that Wren sees nothing of it. She is running through the passages.
Dis is sitting in her study, finishing putting down notes in the household register, when the door bursts open, without a knock, and the red haired woman of Men rushes in. She is pale and shaking, Dis jumps on her feet, she is immediately worried for either of her brothers, and Wren dashes to her and slams her body into Dis'. She is so slender that Dis feels no impact.
"Nadnur, nadnur," Wren sobs out, her delicate arms go around Dis' neck in a childish gesture, it feels like when Kili was a youngling and would hang on her when scared or upset. Dis sucks a breath in. I am with child. "Irakdashat, iraknâtha zu…" It is your nephew or niece. Dis' mind works fast. She knows of how the woman lives, and she wraps her arms around her. The red haired girl is crying desperately now. Her soft bright hair is pressed into Dis' nose.
"Where are they?" Dis has always liked Wren, the girl deserves respect. She is calm, industrious, and decorous. Dis could not wish a better woman for either of her brothers, and in the circumstances the arrangement Dis is aware of was of the best kind. Not anymore.
"They are fighting in Frerin's rooms," Wren's legs give in, and Dis seats her on a settee. "Forgive me… I have nowhere else to go..." Dis sees Wren's customary reserve crumble in front of her eyes. Dis picks up her hands, the redhead's fingers are long and cool, the pale narrow palms feel foreign in Dis' hands, but they are sisters. All women are. Dis is the daughter of Thrain, son of Thror, son of Dain, she makes decisions fast and has the will to execute them. She lifts her chin and gives Wren a firm look.
"This is when your troubles end, child. I will take care of you."
Wren is placed in separate rooms, adjoint to Dis', and neither Frerin, nor Thorin are allowed there.
An hour after she ran out of the room, once all furniture is broken in Frerin's chambers, Frerin has a dislocated shoulder, they are both bleeding extensively, though they used nothing but their fists and whatever they could pick up, Thorin is limping more than usual, Frerin hit him to the maimed leg with a chair, though he did not aim to do so, that would be an dishonourable blow. Thorin comes out as a victor, Frerin loses consciousness from his crushing blow with a fist into the jaw, and Thorin falls on his knees. He has not been in a fight for years, all his muscles ache and quiver, and he groans.
He goes in search of the woman, and a courtier, hardly managing to refrain from shying away from the King who is bloodied and whose clothes are torn, lets him know that the healer is in lady Dis' rooms. He limps there heavily, and that is when he sees courtiers and maids carrying trunks and other of Wren's belongings from Frerin's chambers to Dis'.
"You cannot see her, no one can, unless she asks. She has not asked for you," Dis is standing in front of him, her fists into her hips, and Thorin is painfully reminded of how terrifying their mother was in her rage. He does not even try to evoke his right as a King to make any orders, he knows that such words will be met by disdain and a scornful snort.
"Dis, I need to see her..."
"Why?" Dis uses the same trick as their mother used to, making one talk oneself into a verbal trap, no one can win in an argument like this.
"I need to talk to her."
"She has nothing to say to you. If she does, I will send for you." Thorin's temper rises.
"Do not forget whom you are talking to, namad. I am the king, I have the right..."
"In her chambers you have none." Dis interrupts him and makes a step ahead. It takes a lot of his will not to wince away from her burning dark eyes. "She is no Dwarf, you are not her King."
"She is carrying my child!" Thorin growls through bared teeth, but Dis only laughs into his face.
"She is carrying her child, you are just the man who was there that night. And you are not the only one, are you, nadad?" Dis sneers venomously, and then scoffs and turns her back to him. She walks to her table and sits back to work on her register. "You are of no use for her right now, Thorin, and that is all I care about. For her to receive what she needs. Right now she needs peace and rest, and food, and herbs. I will see you at dinner." Dis dunks her quill into the ink bottle and goes back to her labour. Thorin understands that he lost.
nadad = (Khuzdul) brother
amad = (Khuzdul) mother
namad = (Khuzdul) sister
