iii

Frerin shook his head at his sister's antics and put a hand on Thorin's shoulder. He could see the annoyance on his brother's face. "Ignore Dis, you know she takes pleasure in jesting."

"She is a good jester; that much I acknowledge" Thorin remarked with a somewhat cruel glint in his eyes. "At least she suits that role well enough. Come sister; do not pull such a long face. Take comfort in the fact that you bring a smile on anyone's face."

A snort left Dis' parted lips. "You grow ever unfriendly in your old age, brother. I see 'tis no wonder why you need the girl do very desperately." She chuckled at his failed attempt to swat her, nimbly moving out of his reach. "I don't so," she teased with her natural flair.

"Enough, Dis!" Frerin called to the woman. "Leave him be," he warned. "I wish you a safe journey and a speedy return."

"I too wish you best of luck," Dis offered sweetly. "However you may stay there until hell freezes over." With that she dashed out the door.

Thorin cursed violently, his hand tightening in a fist. Frerin tried to calm him down. Scowling at his brother, Thorin pushed his hand away. "Do you think anything will come out of this?"

"I do not know, brother." Frerin shrugged. "If it is the wish if the Gods it will; if not you must take comfort in the knowledge that it was not meant to be. I cannot say anything else to you. However I must confess you surprised us all." He smiled. "Mother, most of all. We had almost given up on you wanting to make a family of your own."

"I too was astonished," Thorin confessed. "I thought the pit I fell in was bottomless. I thought I was forever lost in darkness." Grey eyes shifted to the window. "And then I saw her. She was a child then. There was this instant need to protect her. Against what, I did not know." Thorin sat down and Frerin joined him. "She fell straight into the waves and I was frozen."

"And you saved her," Frerin added gently. "What I cannot understand is why you wish to marry the girl. In truth, you barely know one another."

"I suppose you can look at it like that, considering that you know little of our correspondence." The older brother smiled sardonically. "I know her like the back of my hand," he stated.

Responding with a smile of his own, Frerin inclined his head. "If you think it best. Then good luck once more. I am curious to meet the woman who has captured you so. She must be something indeed. You must hurry back or mother shall drive us all insane with her worrying."

"You have my words that I shall make haste," Thorin promised with a chuckle. "Mother will soon have another daughter to look after and fuss over."

"She is already in my prayers," Frerin joked. "That woman of yours had better prepare herself. Poor girl, she does not know what she's getting herself into."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Thorin questioned. "What are you trying to tell me, brother?"

"Only that you are not the easiest person to get along with," the brother answered.

Ignoring whatever else was said, Thorin left the room. He ambled down the hall, slowly reaching the door leading to his mother's rooms. He knocked on the craved wood and a maid opened. He entered, pulling the wood structure after him. Not even glancing at the maid, who had flushed a bright shade of red, he opened his arms invitingly for his mother.

"Son!" an older woman exclaimed. Her dark grey eyes regarded him warmly and she accepted his hold. Shorter than him in height but sharing many features, Gemma was a decidedly handsome woman. Even now when she was no longer in her youth, her face still kept a great deal of grace. "Have you come to say goodbye to your old mother?"

"You are hardly old," Thorin gently corrected her. "And yes, I bid thee goodbye. At least for a few weeks."

"I cannot be parted from you for such long a time," Gemma complained good-naturedly. "Must you go?"

"You know I must." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "I have already waited long enough for this moment."

Gemma nodded understandingly. "Of course you have. My son," she said, catching his face between her palms. "I pray you find the happiness that you seek."She analyzed his face and sighed softly. "It seems like only yesterday you were no more but a child, playing with your brother and sister. And now look at you, all grown up."

"Such is the passing of time, mother," Thorin replied fondly. He eased her out of his hold and bowed formally. "When I am back I will be even more changed." And he would be; no longer without a companion was what he would become.

"I have the distinct feeling that you are not sorry at all," was what she said.

Her eyes registered a teasing smile on her son's lips and she shook her head. There was nothing to be done. She would have much preferred that he chose a woman from his own home. There were many fine ladies just waiting to catch his eye. Instead her son had gone and got himself involved with a person they barely knew anything about.

On the other hand, Thorin was as happy as he could be. He would soon see Lorena again. He thought back to the small child dripping water everywhere. She had changed from that time. But how much, Thorin wondered. Would he be able to recognize her once they met again? His heart told him he would. If not, she would, Thorin decided. After all of the two, he had changed less as far as appearance went.

"Mother, give me your blessings for it is time I left," Thorin requested.

"You have my blessings," the woman said.

iv

Lorena carefully braided her hair. Nimble fingers pulled the pieces in, twisting them according to the image in her mind. A small smile adorned her face. She was in such a pleasant mood; she had even noticed that she was late. Everyone else was most likely waiting for her arrival.

A knock on the door alerted her of an impending visit from another person. "Enter," she called out, her hands still bust braiding. She turned around, coming face to face with Yaviel. "Good morn, aunt. I am awfully sorry to keep you all. I confess to awakening late."

"Have you not slept well," Yaviel asked with blatant concern. "Do you have need of anything?"

"Rest your worries, aunt." The girl tied the end of the braid. "Indeed sleep eluded me most of the previous night. But I have no ailment. I am simply fretful."

"You look awfully pleased about it," the aunt countered. "Is this about the visit of that young man of yours?"

Laughter shook Lorena's frame. "He is hardly mine, dear aunt. I have no claim on the man." Though she wished she did. If anything, Lorena had been calling him hers in her mind for at least a couple of years now.

"I shall say nothing more of it." Yaviel took one of her niece's hands. "Let us be off then. They are waiting for us."

And indeed as the women entered all eyes turned to them. Barathion watched with apparent nonchalance as his wife took a seat to his right, while the girl placed herself between the Grand Marshal and the son of lord Helven. In reality, he was cautiously keeping his eyes from his daughter. More and more she resembled her late mother.

It ate at Barathion that he would lose her soon. He knew all about those letters she kept sending in the north. And he hated every single paper written by her that left his kingdom. She was growing up too soon for his liking. But he had no say in such matters. More accurately, he had no say in anything concerning her beside the fact that she was to live with him until marriage.

The man's eyes turned to slits as he thought about the suitor coming to take his daughter away. He was Thorin, son of a northern king. Well over Lorena's age, he was long past the age when he should have been married. And now he came for Barathion's daughter. He scoffed and promised to himself that Lorena would not be so easily given. Taking a gulp of his drink, Barathion though of plausible reasons to stop this occurrence. He had no wish to part from his daughter.

Looking upon her, the father thought she looked young indeed, not at all the nineteen years she claimed to have. Her mother too, may she rest well, had always looked to be younger. With a bit of luck, Thorin would see himself charmed by another lady and leave his daughter alone. Yes, that would be marvellous indeed, Barathion considered as the wine flowed down his throat.

"What has you thinking so hard?" Yaviel asked her husband, creases appearing on her forehead. It was indeed to be mourned whenever Barathion thought too long upon something. She watched his face, almost guessing. "Barathion, mind yourself."

"Leave me be, woman," he growled back at her quietly. "It is not for you to know what goes on in my head. Mind your rank."

Biting her lip in anger, Yaviel felt the taste of blood on her tongue. "So be it, husband." She huffed, turning to her son. She would rather talk to him anyway.

Noticing that something was amiss, Lorena blinked in confusion. She looked to the boy she believed to be her cousin as if to ask him. Beren, for it was thus his mother named him, shook his head. He too knew nothing. He mouthed something to her that she did not catch. Lorena signalled for him to repeat but Beren did not have the chance to as Yaviel began a conversation with him. Lorena was left wondering whatever he had meant. She could feel it in her bones that something was not quite right.

Little did she know of the plan filling Barathion's head. And if she had known, she would have probably lost consciousness. Lorena had decided long ago that she would marry the man who saved her. Why, when still a child she had once been asked by a lordling to pledge herself to him. To the great amusement of the crowed around them, Lorena had refused, stating that she was another's. The source of hilarity was, of course, the dreadfully serious expression she wore and the solemnity with which she spoke. The poor boy had been crushed. Not that Lorena had thought too long on it.

It was a little after the morning meal that Lorena caught Beren. "So, what did you want to tell me?" She found it odd that he checked around to see if anybody was listening while he shushed her.

"Be quiet or they'll hear you," he warned without any hint of a joke. "Believe me, you don't want that."

"What?" Lorena asked, confused. "Who'll hear me? Beren, I swear I know not what you speak of." She had spoken in hushed tones. Lorena was not one for taking useless risks, if she could help it.

"Mayhap, father is planning something. I do not know what but be careful. For both yourself and that man you love." Beren looked straight into her eyes. "Promise me you'll take care."

"Alright, I promise," she said, "though I am sceptic about this. Surely uncle would not do anything to harm me." She was wrong if her cousin's look was anything to go by. "Are you not being a bit harsh?"

"I'm being honest," Beren replied. "My father is hiding something. I know it. So watch yourself."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lorena tried to find an excuse for her uncle. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps he was indeed hiding something. If not, what was the explanation for his behaviour? The man was oddly tense. He even drank more than usual.

"I will trust you on this, Beren," she agreed. "I do not like it one bit, but something has to be going on. Can I count of your help?"

"Always," the boy responded with a smirk.

A/N: Part 2/3. Anything to say?