I want to apologize to all my ever patient readers for so cruelly abusing them by taking so terribly long to post this chapter – life has been a wee bit mad but I sincerely hope to post more chapters on a far more regular basis from now on.

Thorin the Wanderer

Morwen walked out with Crispin to his sledge. He smiled at her and waved as he turned the sledge in a circle and wend back in the direction he'd come from. Thorin stepped out of the smithy - his face blacked with soot and he glowered as he watched the mortal ride off in his loud showing noisy contraption. The smith's massive arms were crossed over his torso and his stance radiated a certain possessiveness and threat that he wasn't even entirely aware of at that moment.

As he came level with the Dwarf smith, Crispin paused and the sleigh slowed to a crawl. He stared blatantly at him; as if daring him to react.

Meanwhile Morwen had changed out of her clothes and donned her long coat and boots. She wanted to use the bathhouse. With a lidded tankard of ale for Eikenskjaldi, a towel and a few other items she approached the smithy and noticed the two figures confronting each other - she dreaded that Crispin would do something to provoke her guest. She approached the two quietly and glancing at them both, she simply caught Crispin's eye as she gave Eikenskjaldi the ale. The smith smiled at her and bowed his head as if the dark haired man in his sledge wasn't even there.

"How long are you here - Tinker?" Crispin's voice was a wee bit too loud to be conversational – but was it meant to be threatening? Thorin wasn't impressed.

"While there's work for me here - why?" his voice was deep as any growl, subtly powerful and utterly intimidating. Morgan had to admit to herself that that tone could certainly make her feel a deep erotic thrill. Crispin looked at them both - then pointedly ignoring the Naug smith he addressed Morwen – "Keep your eyes open and… stay safe." Snapping the reins, the sleigh rushed off in a blast of slush and ice. The sound of snorting horses and jarring bells hung in the air as Crispin awkwardly departed. The two watched him as he disappeared over the distant hills. She glanced at Eikenskjaldi and sighed quietly. He kept his eyes on the distant hill that Crispin had passed over, as if expecting his to pop back up, while she pivoted towards the bathhouse.

Naked in the steamy chamber she released a half swallowed grown. Things were only going to get more difficult from here on out. "Better not to pray…" she muttered bitterly as she slipped into the hot bubbling water. The presence of her Dwarf guest had been a wonderful distraction, but she had to face her future. She was a widow with a small inheritance - but without any interested, unwed blacksmiths in the neighborhood her possessions were of limited value. Her dream of a Khazad family taking over the forge and the hall was still an option – she'd decided to ask Eikenskjaldi if he knew of anyone who might be interested. A good Dwarf farrier or a smith and his kin would provide quality skills to the community. But then what would she do. She could always marry someone, maybe a widower - but marrying for the sake of survival saddened her, although many others had done it and she should be grateful that she and Gerion had gotten on so well. Their marriage hadn't been a love match but at least they'd started out as friends, and many marriages never even had that. There were few options – she might be able to work in a tavern, or assist in a shop. Still it could be worse. She was still enjoying the affectionate companionship of Eikenskjaldi - enjoying it perhaps a little too much. After all he was a traveler and this pleasant interlude would soon be over… She felt in that moment a profound loneliness –but she did her best to brush this melancholy aside.

She rinsed her hair and let the heavy steam envelope her. After a while she applied the honey rub and let it soak into her pores then she flicked herself with the birch branch whisk. Bracing herself she raced out and threw herself into the snow - it felt wonderful! The rhythmic sounds of hammer on anvil assured her that her guest was still occupied with his tasks. She rushed back into the bathhouse, her skin feeling rosy, fresh and alive, and lingered luxuriating in the heat. She slipped back into the hot water. Perhaps 15 minutes later the bathhouse door opened gently – pivoting to look, she saw to her delight Eikenskjaldi's shadow.

"I hope you don't mind …" He stripped in a very matter of fact manner and smiled quietly to himself as she replied "You're more than welcome." Thorin was pleased that Morwen neither tried to hide herself as he entered the bath or to posture or pose for him – she just continued to bathe although she did move in the pool to make room for him. He'd left his leather apron and shirt in the smithy and only needed to remove his leggings and boots. There was plenty of room in the water so he slid in facing Morwen. He tickled her foot with his and she startled reached down and grasped his heal and for a time they laughed and splashed in the hot water like two children. He stepped out of the hot bath and stretched out on the bench.

"I have some honey rub and birch whisks - should you wish them." Morwen mentioned to him gesturing to the items on floor near the other bench as she loitered in the water. He smirked at her from the bench and she passed him the pot. He rubbed the mix into his shoulders, belly and legs. She offered to help and he growled under her hands as she worked the rub into the muscles of his back and ass she then gently flicked his skin with the whisk - he rested on his stomach for a while then he rolled onto his back. Morwen couldn't help but think of a cat as she admired him unselfconsciously moving about. She commented casually. " I see you brought your hammer into the bathhouse…"

"I take it everywhere I go."

They laughed and teased each other for a bit, then she excused herself from the bathhouse – she needed to see about getting the evening meal prepared.

Thorin relaxed in the steam. Since the coming of the Wyrm, he'd suffered many indignities and losses but he found that the comfort and sense of peace that came from a good Yzbah was vital to his health. He imagined that it must be so for all Dwarves - be they miners, merchants, toymakers, warriors or princes. His thoughts wandered and he considered his hostess. He realized that he quite liked Morwen. She was unlike almost all the mortal women he'd met -most of them either treated the Khazad as if they were all children or strange inanimate objects. Morwen was respectful and curious without being cloying, intelligent and honest. She possessed a healthy sexual stamina in his opinion, as so many mortal women complained of exhaustion after only three or four trysts per night.

He was fond of her.

She was good and kind and she deserved happiness – she deserved love.

It was really rather sad.

Thorin didn't love her, he couldn't love her. It was impossible - he knew that for a certainty.

Once Crispin had returned to the village he confirmed that he'd dropped off the various supplies, and his brother ticked them all off the list. Bruel asked about Morwen and Crispin tried not to roll his eyes in his head at his older brother's sudden interest. "Is she well? Did she seem glad to see you? Did you try to be social? "

"She's got some itinerant dwarf ironmonger staying with her." Crispin muttered hoping to change to subject. He knew where this discussion was going, and he disliked it. His older brother was going to start pressuring now.

"Aye," Bruel replied, "But he'll be gone soon - he's just passing through. She's sweet and lonely. Yes - she might not be much to look at – but she's not too altogether painful on the eyes and in three months she'll be free to be courted. Now think about this - when she sells that place she could make a good profit…A lonely rich widow…And you all alone since your return from the east – it's a good prospect don't you think? I know she's not your type at all - but all women are the same in the dark. I mean, you certainly didn't bring back a bride from amongst the Dunlendings…"

"Stop it." Crispin snapped.