Another three years pass in everyday matters, until in early Spring, while snow still covers Erebor Valley, scandal ensues in the Royal Halls. Thorin finds out from Frerin who comes to see him in his study. Apparently by then it has been going on for a few months and had not been discovered until one day Fili's wife was found in bed with another woman. Marital infidelity is unheard of it in Dwarven families, as libidinous as they are before the vows are taken, both men and women are expected to be loyal in their marriage. Obviously there are always exceptions out of the rules, but the crime on Herta, daughter of Billar is thrice as grave. She is young and capable of bearing children, her attentions are not to be distracted from her husband, she is the wife of a Prince, and her lover is a Dwarven maiden as well.

Frerin is sitting in the chair in front of Thorin, his fingers locked before him, elbows pressed to his knees. "Were that just lust it could be forgiven..." Frerin's voice is hollow, "But she confronted him… She said they loved each other… That she is going to leave Erebor with her lover…" That is two fertile women less in Erebor. Fili's marriage is arranged, one of the first that took place in Erebor, she is of very old family, but it was clear from the start his heart was not into it. Thorin sends Frerin away and goes to talk to Dis.

She is pale, bedraggled, and he finds Wren in her parlour. The redhead is sitting on the settee near Dis, stroking her hand. Dis refuses to talk to Thorin, she is too tired. The arguments have been going on for hours, Herta has locked herself in their bedchambers at the moment, Fili is in the training yard, destroying another dozen of dummies, and Dis disappears in her bedroom chambers, shaking her head.

Thorin is left with Wren in the room, and he heavily lowers himself in an armchair. She is quiet, her eyes on the window to her left, and he studies her delicate jawline.

"Did she want to be discovered?" He needs to talk to someone, he feels strange heaviness behind his ribs again, it has been bothering him recently. Wren turns her head, and he catches slight surprise in her slanted eyes. She did not expect him to speak to her about it.

"I would assume so. Since they have been concealing their affair for several moons now, I doubt they would have been reckless enough to be caught."

"Why not just run away?" Wren gives him a sad smile.

"And go where? Two women, in the wild, alone. They cannot go back to their families. Even if they both are capable fighters and can protect themselves, they would not be able to find any work in any city. They are not men." Thorin never considered what it is like for women. "In Dwarven cities woman's job is to bear children, in the cities of Men a woman with no husband is either a help or a mistress. Herta is an excellent blacksmith, but she would not see hammer in the city of Men." Thorin is listening, and she sighs heavily. "Expose their liaison and put Fili before the fact… They had no other way. This way you will pay them generously to hide this opprobrium, and they will have enough gold to live on their own the way they want."

"Will I?" Thorin is asking with a sincere surprise, and she nods.

"Of course you will. You are the King Under the Mountain. You will pay them, and let them leave, and soon everyone will forget about the strange behaviour of the Princess, and perhaps with time news will come of her death, and Fili will marry again, this time to the one he chooses himself." Her tone is even and mellow, and suddenly he starts laughing loudly.

"I should take you to my negotiations with the Elves, Wren, you are a marvel! You will tell them what to do, and still manage to not offend them." She gives him a look from the corner of her eye.

"Have I offended you, my lord?" She knows the answer to her question, one corner of her lips curls up. The gesture is almost flirtatious. Something stirs in him, it is not quite desire but he wants to move closer, perhaps touch her hand, and he remembers the faint smell of lilacs from her skin.

But he has learnt his lesson. He reminds himself of how her body jolts when a man would occasionally touch her, he can still see it if he runs into her in the infirmary. She has her study in the wing where the midwives work, but if a husband comes with his wife, Wren keeps her distance. Once in a passage Thorn ran into Wren talking to a maid, when a courtier rushed by, and his elbow brushed at hers. He saw white even teeth sink into her bottom lip, the slender body jerked, and she took a step back.

"Tell me, Wren," his tone is warm and even, and he looks into her eyes to show her that his question is not a judgement and not mockery, "You had liaisons with women. How certain are you Herta will not change her mind?" Thorin thinks of the women he has had before, of those he shared with other Dwarves, they were of Men or Dwarven widows, those were arrangements of passion, lust, primitive physical desire, consensual from all participants. Thorin knows of married couples who bring others to their bed, mostly other couples, almost never wives without their husbands, but he knows how careful they always are. The question of doubtful fatherhood is never to arise. There are too few Dwarves in Arda to risk it. Frerin said Herta loved the other woman. How much does such love have to compare to the one between a man and a woman?

"She has found her One, my lord. It is not always a man." Her answer is soft but decisive, and he is giving it a thought. "I know many think such notion outdated, but I do believe a Dwarf's heart chooses only once. And as it often happens in the matters of heart, such choice isn't always the wisest." She gets up and heads to the door, when he stops her with a quiet question.

"And you, Wren, do you think your One is a woman too?" She is standing her back to him, he can see the tension in her shoulders, and then she turns around.

"I have only taken women as my lovers because my heart could not belong to them. I knew I was in no danger to lose my head. A man had a chance to absorb me, rule me, and I couldn't let it happen. And then Frerin came..." Thorin cannot understand where this moment of openness from her comes from, but he is almost holding his breath not to scare it off. "And again, afterwards I had women when I wanted warmth, and understanding, and pleasure, but wanted to escape the danger of letting someone in. Sometimes I just wanted a considerate lover… Someone who..." She realises her own words, and suddenly flaming blush spills on her cheeks. Just a second ago he was talking to a calm mature woman, and now he sees an embarrassed girl in front of him. He finds it almost funny, she seems increasingly worried that he would take her words as criticism of him as a lover. He suddenly remembers she has hardly reached the end of her third decade. Even for the world of Men she is still young. It is her perceptiveness, her mind, her unbendable will that deceive, but he is looking at slender hands intertwined in acute embarrassment. She excuses herself and rushes out of the room.

Thrion spends another half an hour sitting in silence, pondering the words of the woman who lives in the back rooms of his halls and whose child he comes to visit three times a week.


Later that moon Fili and his wife leave Erebor, seemingly together, he heads to Iron Hills with envoys, she separates from him on the way. Thorin has paid her generously, and at the end of negotiations when the blonde woman was leaving his study he wished her luck and happiness, and he noticed that his tone was sincere, and so did she. She looked at him, deep purple shadows lying under her bright blue eyes after so many sleepless nights, and she gave him a low bow. He returned it and watched the door close behind her.

Dis keeps on praising his wisdom in solving the problem, and he chuckles. The evening when Fili leaves the Mountain, Thorin goes to Wren's rooms, he spends his usual ten minutes there listening to the maids and the new tutor for the boy who tell him about the child's life and learning, and he watches the boy play on the floor. Thorin is not blind, he can see the astonishing semblance between himself and the boy. The hair is the same colour, the same profile, the same line of lips, the same colour of eyes. The disposition is almost comically identical as well, the boy has a slightly haughty expression on his face at all times, only changing into warm and loving smile when he is talking to his mother, he is moody and talks little, though he is smart and capable, and if there were less semblance between Thorin and Fili to remind one how blood works in uncles and nephews, one could assume that… Thorin stops himself from such thoughts, but they come more and more often these days. Previously while it was just a plump babe in a cot, Thorin cared little, but these days he can see a miniature replica of himself in front of his eyes, a boy who makes judgements, discusses battles with his teacher and draws armour on parchments. He has inherited his mother's abilities for drawing, and Thorin hears him ask his tutor about ridges on the swords and the shape of a plummet.

Thorin leaves and does not come back for two weeks, he doesn't like the feeling of unease from seeing small hands of the same shape as his, covered in dark spots from graphite, to depict a child and a small slender woman on a sheet of parchment. The spot on the other side of the boy in the picture is empty, and Thror, son of Frerin pauses and adds a pony to the small family he is drawing.


Nightmares come again. Wren is overtired, and when she is, she wakes up with a scream, cold sweat between her shoulder blades, and she is biting the pillow letting the sobs shaking her body pass. There has been a pandemia of influenza in Erebor, since she has experience in treating the sick, she was asked to help in the infirmary. She has not slept properly for three weeks, and now she was sent to her rooms for rest. She will not be needed there again, the disease is stepping back, there are no more sick arriving.

Wren throws a robe over her nightdress and leaves for the kitchen behind her halls. There is no fire in the over, and she tries again, and again, but it would not start. Her fingers are cold, disobedient, and suddenly something snaps in her. She sinks on the floor and starts crying loudly. No one will hear her here, Thror has been moved to his own room, further down the passage, the maid sleeping in an adjoint one. The King is several halls away, behind thick walls, and sudden rage overcomes her. She grabs the nearest mug and smashes it into the wall. She shies away from what she'd done an instant after the shards fly in all directions, she whimpers and rushes to take a broom to picks up the pieces.

"Good evening, my lady," the King's raspy voice from the door makes her jump up, and she presses her hands over her mouth to suppress a panicked scream. He is barefoot, dishevelled and looks very displeased. He is shielding his eyes from the light of the gaslamp she brought into the kitchen, and she feels acutely embarrassed. She also realises she has been exceptionally foolish, if all those moons ago he heard Frerin in her bedchambers he indeed could hear her hollering just now. She realises her face is red and puffy, it does not take much effort to guess she has cried, and the floor is covered in pieces of clay. She is mumbling her apologies for waking him up and is hastily brushing the litter from the floor.

"You have not woken me up. I come here often at night." He comes in and sits at the table. She is worried he will cut his feet. "We should have tea, Wren..."

"The fire wouldn't start..." She mumbles, and he heavily gets up with an irritated groan and starts working the firestriker. Soon the fire rises, first in cozy crackles, and then a low roar in the chimney. He puts the kettle on, and she is watching him in astonishment. She has never seen him doing mundane chores.

They have tea in silence, on the opposite sides of a large kitchen table, and then he finishes, puts his cup into the sink and leaves with a quiet soft 'Good night.' She is following his wide figure with her eyes until he disappears around the corner.

The same repeats two night later, she has a nightmare, and finds him already in the kitchen. They have tea together, again in silence, and it becomes some sort of their secret pastime. Sometimes Wren comes, and he is not in the kitchen, she still has tea and returns to her chamber. Sometimes she can see he has not slept well when he visits Thror, and if that night she did, she knows he spent the night in the kitchen alone.


One night he doesn't find her in the kitchen and he praises himself for bringing a book with him. He is reading, it is close to dawn and he knows a maid will soon come, when she appears. He lifts his eyes and understands something is wrong right away. She is pale, her eyes are burning feverishly, and she steps close to him and grabs his hand. He is shocked by how hot her usually cool hand is.

"I am sick, I think I have the influenza..." She sways and he grabs her around her body. She is sinking on the floor. "I need to be taken to the infirmary… Thror can catch it..." Her eyes are rolling back, and he is rushing to the infirmary, her body almost has no weight in his arms.


The healers tell him there is hardly any hope for her to recover. The influenza stayed in her body longer without revealing itself, she is of Men, her body concealed it for longer, but she is less resilient and they had several deaths among Dwarves as well. Thorin knows that Dis was allowed to see her some time ago, and arrangements were made regarding the child. They do not allow anyone see her, and the healers let Thorin know that she has been delirious for the last two days. She doesn't recognise faces or surroundings.

A young healer asks for his audience, and he allows the Dwarf to come in. Brali, son of Drol introduces himself with a low respectful bow. He tells the King that he has been in amicable relationships with Lady Wren through her years of service in the infirmary and that she was supporting him when he was just starting his path of a healer. Thorin can see how embarrassed and uneasy the Dwarf is feeling but after collecting himself, muscles rolling on his jaw, the young healer directly meets the King's eyes.

"She is asking for you, my King. All the time… First while she was lucid, she did not want anyone to see her, it is obvious, the influenza can be passed… But since the delirium started it is all that she has been saying... She is crying, sometimes screaming, her lungs are affected, and there is a lot of pain, but she keeps on calling you… As a healer I would advise against it, but as her friend… She still has lucid moments, rarely now, but your presence might be her last consolation…"

Thorin wonders how much will power it took the Dwarf to dare to have such conversation, and he rises. The healer jumps on his feet as well.

"I will see to it immediately, honourable healer. Perhaps you should come after a few minutes, so that your superiors did not know of your participation in this." The healer gives the King another low bow, and Thorin leaves him behind and strides into the infirmary.


The arguments with the healers take a while, and he knows someone was sent to his sister to talk him out of this unreasonable step, but they have no power to stop him. He enters the room, the gauze canopy surrounds the bed, and he moves a flap aside and takes the chair near her bed.

He is overwhelmed with one piercing sensation. It is terror. She is thinned, pale, it looks to him as if her skin is translucent, blue veins are a map under her skin, all the angular features have sharpened, and it is as if he almost cannot see the woman he loves in her. She is delirious, moaning weakly, she probably has no strength to thrash anymore, and just as the healer said, his name is repeated again and again. Some other words are there, there is 'please' and 'son,' several words in Rohirrim he doesn't know.

He has to wait for an hour for her to return to her senses at least partially, the eyes lose mad expression, he has been holding her hot dry hand through this whole time, and she blinks. The eyes focus on him, and he can see she recognises him.

"Wren..." He has been watching her die in front of his eyes for an hour, and now, when perhaps the last short moment between them comes, he has no words.

"Thorin..." He guesses what she says by the movement of her chapped lips, she has no voice, and then the eyes close.

He stays by her side for the rest of the day and the night, he is either holding her hand, or just sitting in the chair. The thought that does not leave him in peace is that the blizzard of emotions and thoughts in his mind is something he has never experienced before. He has faced loss and grief before, there are people in his life he loves fully and irrevocably, he has his siblings, nephews, he had a family when he was a child, he has friends, King or not, Balin and Dwalin are his friends, and yet the terrifying ache and helplessness tearing at his mind and seemingly even his body at the moment cannot be compared to anything he has felt before.

He leaves her rooms when healers bring Dis. In the infirmary parlour Frerin is waiting for him, but Thorin waves at him asking to be left alone. He goes to his room and falls into half slumber on his bed.


Two days later Wren's health turns to recovery. The fever seems to be ebbing, and although they do not promise anything, the healers are hoping she might survive it. Thorin receives a note from Dis with the news. He doesn't know what he is feeling. He is sitting in his study, unseeing eyes fixed on the wall opposite from him, Dis' note crumpled in his hands.

Two weeks later Wren can already eat and even get up from her bed. Dis and healers are with her, after a while they allow Thror to come visit her. Another fortnight passes, and Dis asks Thorin at the dinner table whether he wants to come visit Wren. There is a challenge in Dis' voice, Wren is never mentioned in the family conversations, Frerin's wife whips her head and stares at the siblings. Kili and his wife exchange looks, Frerin's face is dark, and Thorin ignores his sister's question. He has not seen Wren since the day the young healer convinced him to visit her.