Author's Note:
OK, it's time to admit, it's not a two-chapter fic, Toto :D But it seems that the next chapter is the last one. Maybe :)
Two more months dragged by. On the surface their behaviour towards each other remained the same. They were civil with each other during meals; they held audiences together. The only change was that Thorin made sure to never stay alone with her. And he would now sleep alone.
He'd never known that he could feel that pained; he could never imagine that his mind, his heart, every fibre of his being could tear and bleed in such suffering.
Night were the worst. During the days, he would sometimes forget the state of his marriage, of his life, distracted for at least an instant by the everyday matters - but then the agony would be back. It was like the ache of old wounds, ever present, unmollifiable, draining him. He would meet a dawn, his eyes burning after the sleepless hours; and he would dread returning to the bed chamber.
He never looked at her. He couldn't.
He heard others comment on how sick and exhausted she looked; and she missed even more meals now. As if a giant shadow lay over the Royal Halls.
She came to see him once, outside their duties. A week after their altercation, she knocked at the door of his study. Her eyes were red, and the lips were chipped and pale, with blood dried in the cracks. She looked broken; and despite the rage and the almost hatred he felt towards her, he felt pity flood him; and he had to grab to the edge of the table, not to get up and to rush to her.
She didn't sit. The fingers tangled and untangled, hands clasped in front of her chest; and she gave him a pleading look.
"What do you want?" he asked unnecessarily loudly, to drown the anguish and the longing he felt.
"Thorin… I came to… beg you to reconsider..." Her voice was breaking; and he could see her swallow spasmodically. "I know you feel I have betrayed you, but I have never… been unfaithful to you..."
"You have betrayed me. You're lying to me." He looked away, not to see her small frame trembling.
"But… Not as a husband… I have never… never with another man..." Jumbled words fell off her lips, between small sobs. His hands started to shake.
"Then tell me what is happening." He wanted to believe her.
"I can't..." She wiped a tear running down her cheek. "I gave my word."
"To whom?" He prayed to Mahal that the answer he expected wouldn't come. She sobbed again, and seemed to beg her with her eyes not to press.
A second after, she dropped her head, and whispered, "To Amri..."
Thorin decided there wasn't much to lose anymore. His marriage lay in ruins - and so did his life.
"Tell me of his portrait in your safe box," he said in a low growl; and she flinched.
"Thorin..."
"You wanted to talk. Then talk." Perhaps, if he just heard her admit it, tell him her heart wasn't his, he could finally sleep.
She took a shuddered breath in. "He gave it to me when we were young. He pitied me… I was a plain, silly girl… And my sister told him how… how infatuated I was." She spoke in dull, hollow voice, and more tears ran down her cheeks. "He just… never thought me… alluring..."
"I'm sure now you're a worthy prize," Thorin jeered. "A Queen, and an efficacious healer and a diplomat." She seemed to have shrunk even more from his cruel words.
"Nothing has changed," she exclaimed, and gave him a mournful look. "He loves his wife..."
"Oh, so you haven't achieved your goals. That is why you want me to take you back. Your lover didn't accept your advances."
"Don't be cruel..." she whispered; and he decided if she didn't leave, he would either strike her, or start weeping himself.
"Leave, Wrena. We have nothing to talk about."
She gave him a long look, and then nodded. "Aye, I see it now, we do not."
The door closed behind her; and he hurled an ink bottle into the wall. The black liquid splashed, drops flying onto his face; and he wiped it, his fingers trembling, mixing the black with his tears.
After the conversation in his study she seemed to have turned a new page. Quite quickly he noticed that she became once again talkative at dinners - never addressing him, of course. Her laughter could be heard in Thror's rooms. She seemed to be recovering physically. Her appetite was back. He assumed she'd now decided to throw all her strength into winning her lover over.
Thorin didn't want to look; but couldn't help but watch.
He wondered if it was some sort of mental affliction that made him torturously aware of how beautiful she was - seemingly more and more every day. Her glowing pale skin; the soft golden locks; the small strong body - all familiar and so very captivating - tormented him. The sweet smells of her soap in their shared bathchambers; the traces of her presence all over the halls; her official portraits on the walls - as if followed him everywhere.
He saw Lord Amri on one more occasion. The Dwarf came with some more permits for approval; and Thorin thought he saw mockery and triumph in the younger Dwarf's eyes. He signed the papers without reading; and threw him to Amri over the table. Wren was absent from the audiences that day, and Thorin doubted it was a coincidence.
That night Thorin lay in his bed; and dark thoughts swirled in his mind. He could kill the man. He could challenge him to a fight. It would be scandalous, and shocking; but maybe if he sank his sword into Lord Amri's chest, he would see some relief. Also, if the man died, Wrena would feel what he felt - as if the world crumbled around him; as if all his life was nothing but rot and crud.
It was his own fault, he thought. He had been an imbecile. He married a woman twice as young; and he placed all possible importance on his marriage. He had been enjoying this second youth - carelessly, trustfully. He'd been all about duty and his people for two hundred years - and then like a half-witted youngling, he threw himself into this giddy, idiotic elation. He trusted a deceitful, dishonourable harlot - and was now paying for it.
How could he have been so blind? Her smiles, her laughter, the warmth and the comfort she provided him - all that was false. She'd been playing her part. Dis had been right. Wrena hadn't refused him because of his gold, his stature, his crown. And the whispers of love, and the moans of pleasure had all been just the goods she'd exchanged for the payment he'd been giving. She had been thinking of her lover, probably, every time Thorin touched her. She was fortunate; there were similarities in looks - the height, the dark hair. No wonder she'd pretended so well. Although how hard could it have been to deceive Thorin? He'd gulped all her lies willingly and readily.
Another moon later he seemed to start recovering. It became easier to get up in the morning, his mind busy with the state matters. They saw each other so little that he could almost pretend to have forgotten what she looked like. She was crafty enough to never cross paths with him in Thror's rooms.
It was only on the day and the night of the Summer Fest when he was reminded of his pain. She was stunning, in a dark green dress; her locks of the coppered gold in a simple and elegant do. She danced - and he couldn't tear his eyes off her. She moved with a grace, with fluidity, and confidence - and lustful desire and the memories of her near him ran through his body in shivers. She laughed - and he couldn't stop looking at the long delicate neck, and the throat, when she dropped her head back. He remembered pressing his lips to the skin and the pulse beating underneath. She gave her hand to a Dwarf inviting her for another dance - and he remembered tangling his fingers with her, pressing her hands into sheets, when she arched underneath him. How could that have been a lie, he thought, suddenly feeling lost. He wasn't even angry at that moment; he just couldn't believe that her arms around his neck, her eyes widened and burning in front of him, her lips half-opened, a smile hiding in the corners; and her legs tight around his waist, pulling him closer, as if never close enough - that it had never been true.
In the flickering light of hundreds of candles, he saw her skin - the smoothest creamiest silk - and her locks - burning around her radiant, joyous face; and he drank too much; and spoke little; and then he left the celebration early, unconcerned with decorum. He went back to the bedchamber; and drank himself to sleep.
And then the life returned to its routine, summer and trade blooming; letters piling up on his desk; visitors queuing in his halls. He threw himself into his obligations; and the wounds started to heal.
He was in his study, finishing a contract draft; when a courtier announced that Lord Amri of the Iron Hills was requesting an urgent private audience with him.
Lord Amri looked peculiar. He wore a dusty travel cloak; seemed to be favouring his right side; and had an obvious limp. Altogether he looked battered and thinned from exhaustion. Thorin quickly wondered that some other husband had been somewhat more enthusiastic in reacting to Lord Amri's treatment of the sacred nature of Dwarven marriage.
The Dwarf bowed awkwardly, and heavily sat down in the armchair, without waiting for an invitation. Thorin lifted one eyebrow at the insolence.
"My lord, I have come to… confess a crime, and beg your leniency." Thorin wondered if grabbing the man's hair at the back of his head and banging him face down into the desk would be considered leniency. Sadly, the man was clearly wounded; and Thorin would hate to have an unfair advantage in a fight.
"Eight moons ago my brother and the company of his warrior, numbered forty two, have been captured by the Goblins of the Misty Mountain. I was let know that they weren't killed, but held captive; and a ransom was to be paid for them." The man's voice was even and tired.
"As are the traditions of the Khazad, my family refused to negotiate with captors." The Dwarf gave Thorin a weary yet direct look. "I couldn't let my brother and his men die. I agreed to gather the gold and to bring it to the Mountains. By the time I came to Erebor, I had grown desperate. I couldn't find the funds, or men to go with me to free my kin. Lady Wrena… supported me. We kept it a secret, so that we weren't stopped."
Amri shifted in the chair with a cringe. "Last moon my company reached the Mountain, and we… slayed many Goblins and freed our men. We'd lost most of the gold, but only three men in the original company; and two out of the ones who came with me." He then shook his head, and pressed his lips firmly. "I know my crime. Dwarves do not negotiate… but I do not regret it. I will accept my punishment, but I came to beg forgiveness for the Queen."
"Why did she help you?" Thorin asked.
"She refused me at the beginning," Amri rushed to answer. "But… I promised her I would return the men. My skill as a warrior is well-known, my lord." A shadow of the self-assured man Thorin thought him to be ran across the Dwarf's face. "It took a lot of convincing, but portraits of the men's children broke her resistance."
The Dwarf smirked joylessly and continued, "The men I brought back are in Dale; and tomorrow all Erebor will know of what happened. I will go to trial for conspiracy and for losing the gold. I came to beg you to spare the Queen's good name. Very few know of her participation; and they will not talk. No one has to know..." The eyes of the two men met. "No one was supposed to know."
Thorin leaned back in his chair, and gave the Dwarf a measuring look up and down.
"You mean, I was not supposed to know."
"It took longer to gather the gold and those willing to go than I had anticipated. The Queen wasn't supposed to be lying and sneaking around for moons... and then it was too late to renegade."
Thorin's mind worked quickly - piecing the new knowledge, fitting the puzzle, his memories gaining a completely new meaning.
"You will lose everything tomorrow, Amri of the Iron Hills," he started slowly; and the man in front of him nodded. "Your family trade will be taken to reimburse for the gold you lost. You will lose your permits. And if I don't stop it, the Queen's name will be dragged through the same shame and dishonour. And it's your doing, both of you. You influenced her into it; she agreed."
The man didn't answer, and just watched Thorin's face calmly.
"Have you planned, Lord Amri, for me to conceal your crime to save the Queen's honour?"
"I'm not that cunning," the man answered with a small smile. "And no, I don't expect any leniency to be shown to me. I am only hopeful that the husband of Lady Wrena, daughter of Lir, would do everything to protect her."
"Lady Wrena, daughter of Lir, doesn't have a husband," Thorin answered sharply, his animosity towards the man returning at his careless, condescending words. He saw Amri's face waver, and grow pale. Thorin delighted in the anxious expression on the scoundrel's face; and then continued in a grave tone, "But the reputation of the Queen of Erebor cannot be tarnished. I will look the other way; and you will make sure not a word is spoken about her participation in your scheme."
Fortunately, the younger Dwarf didn't rush to thank, neither did he look smug or pleased. That would have gained him a famous left hook of the King Under the Mountain.
"And now you will tell me everything," Thorin said, and Lord Amri nodded again.
After the conversation with Lord Amri Thorin went to his chamber, stretched on the bed, and closed his eyes. He thought of Wrena, no doubt terrified and worried in her rooms right now. Amri had told him he'd sent her a note before coming to Thorin's study.
Leaving her in the dark, awaiting her fate, knowing that the next day could bring her ruin - would be cruel. Were her transgression known she'd be expected to be punished, perhaps exiled, and definitely separated from her child. The law stated that Dwarves never negotiated ransom for their kin, never met any demands - this way they were never expected to. It protected their people; since very rarely their enemies even risked sending a messenger.
Of course, when one's kin - brother, wife, daughter, son - were abducted, a Dwarf wouldn't stay in their halls, lamenting and taking no action. The matter was considered private; and one had only themselves to rely on. Amri of the Iron Hills had broken the law - and so had Thorin's wife.
The young Dwarf seemed to have been honest in his account of the events of the last eight moons - and nothing had indicated that the relationship between the two of them were anything but two people working towards a common goal. Thorin of course hadn't asked; but he didn't have to.
Amri had let him know - in vague words, but repeatedly and insistently - that Wrena regretted keeping the secret from Thorin; and that she had been tortured by having to betray his trust. That explained her paleness and her anxious state of four moons before. On the other hand, having given her word, she had no means of escaping the scheme she had been pulled into - that much Thorin understood as well.
He shortly wondered whether he was so quick to find excuses and to condone her now - lying in his empty cold bed - because he was simply relieved she hadn't taken a lover. Was he indeed that enamoured with her that he would just forgive her lies and her crimes?
Thorin suddenly felt tired. He rolled on his stomach, and pressed his burning face to the coolness of the sheets.
A few minutes later, he jerkily climbed off the bed, and left the rooms.
She wasn't in her study; or her parlour; or the bathchambers. He peeked into the small kitchen and the pantries near by - and then he understood.
She was sitting on the floor of Thror's bedroom; near his cot; her face pressed into her knees, arms around her legs. He could see her widened unblinking eyes fixed on the bars of the cot. She didn't seem to hear him come in.
"Wrena..." he called in a whisper, and she twitched and gave him a terrified look. He beckoned her with his hand, and left the room. He waited for her in the parlour; and she took almost ten minutes to appear. He could see she'd just cried; but her eyes were dry now.
"We shall talk in the bedchamber," he said; and once again walked out of the room, without checking if she was following.
He sat on the bed; and she remained standing, having stepped to the wall while he was locking the door behind them.
"Lord Amri had paid me a visit tonight," Thorin said in a low voice, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Now it's your turn to talk."
He heard how she swallow with difficulty - and then she started talking. He hadn't learnt anything new - except unlike the other Dwarf she didn't ask for understanding; and didn't try to explain herself. Her voice sounded lifeless.
Once she was done, silence hung in the room.
He considered torturing her for longer - but he just felt so taxed.
"You will not be implicated during his trial," he said quietly; and her eyes flew up to his face. "Lord Amri will ensure none of the participants mentions your name; and I will pretend to never have known."
"I will not be sent away?!" she asked before he could finish talking. "Will I be allowed to stay, here, with Thror?"
"Aye," he answered; and she suddenly made a choked noise in her throat, clasped a hand over her mouth - and started sinking to the floor. He jerked, and even lifted his hand to offer her support; but she didn't seem to see.
A loud coarse sob burst out of her; and she covered her face with her hands.
"I will stay… I will stay..." she continued repeated, between her wails - and he got off the bed and walked up to her. She pressed her hands into the floor, and her body quaked in deep weeping.
"Wrena, get up," he grumbled, and trying to pick her up under one arm. She didn't seem to heard him either; and just cried desperately. "Wrena..." He pulled; and she finally moved. She rose on unstable feet; and he gently pushed her towards the bed. She ungracefully slumped on it, and grasped the bedpost to stay upright.
"Wrena..." he started, and suddenly she grabbed his forearm.
"Will I truly be allowed to stay in Erebor?" she asked in some sort of frenzy. He nodded. "Do I have your word?"
"You have my word."
"Do you believe me now? That nothing had happened between Amri and me? Do you believe me?" she continued her manic questioning.
"Aye, but, Wrena..."
"I'm with child," she breathed out, and released his arm. "I'm expecting your child."
Thorin froze, staring at her. The meaning had seemed to reach his understanding only a few moments later.
"A child?"
"I found out three weeks after I had agreed to help him." She tilted her head, in the painfully familiar bird like gesture, her eyes roaming his face. "Thorin..."
"You didn't tell me because you feared I wouldn't believe it was mine." He wasn't asking - and she dropped her eyes. "And if I didn't believe you now, and didn't help you, would you have taken it with you to exile?" She stayed still and silent, but then he saw a small nod.
"You chose to betray me knowing you carried my child. You continued plotting and lurking in my mountain, knowing you had my child under your heart..." he drew out slowly.
"What choice did I have?" she whispered.
"You could have come to me."
"You wouldn't have believed me. Or you would have put an end to it, and all those men were dead now. I did what I thought was right," she said quietly.
"So, generations of the Khazad were wrong, and you and that scoundrel from the Iron Hills are right." He shook his head sarcastically.
She didn't answer; and they say without saying a word for a few minutes.
He sighed. "How are you feeling?" He needed to take care of his child - even if he didn't know what to do with its mother.
"I'm well. The first sickness had passed. So, it's just the ravenous appetite, and those colourful, life like dreams now," she alluded to her first parturiency - the one they had elated and in love, all through; the one they shared.
"We will announce your pregnancy right after Amri's scheme is disclosed. That will distract people's attention from it - and your possible participation even more," he said in a dull tone, and she nodded. "And you will move into Thror's rooms. We'll start setting up a new nursery there. That will explain it." She nodded again. Her breathing was shallow, and she followed him with tense eyes. "Yo ucan go now. Tomorrow you need to look healthy, radiant, and completely unaware of what's happening."
She rose quickly, and rushed to the door. She stopped, her hand already on the handle, and looked at him.
"Thorin..." He didn't look up. "I'm so very sorry..."
He hummed, simply acknowledging that he heard her - and she was gone.
To be continued...
Author's Note:
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