Ugh, the computer ate my chapter, so I had to rewrite it from what I remembered. I really wanted to get it done cuz I have two other stories I've been neglecting and school starts next week. But I hope you enjoy. LilyRosetheDreamer and almaloun really liked Lady Fregma, so I have answered your wishes and provided a slight detour from the plot line to spend a little more time with her. I must say she's a hoot. Poor Dwalin!
Chapter 5
The next morning, the different players started the day with widely ranging expectations and in various moods. Dwalin and Balin were calm and reasonable, mapping out the strategies they had devised with the others on a large, oaken table in the War Room. Fili and Kili, on the other hand, nearly vibrated with energy like eager puppies who were told to sit still while tasty treats dangled above their heads. Bombur bustled in the kitchen, preparing to feed and perhaps slightly poison some of the guests, while his brothers listed which dwarrowdams should be the first to get the steel-tipped boot. Harried councilors—who got little sleep last night—ran even more requests and lists of needs to the merchants, seamstresses, perfumers, and others, so that the prospective brides looked and smelled their best to face the king. Etiquette was important. Every noble dwarrowdam was schooled in how to meet and interact with royalty, and to do anything embarrassing was to bring shame on the family. It was a rule that Thorin's defenders hoped to exploit.
Thorin, himself, awoke remarkably refreshed. He had vented last night like a volcano that was overdue for an eruption. Pouring out his rage out with sharp, strong strokes of the quill, he nearly cut through the paper, but sparing nothing in response to the mysterious dwarrowdam felt strangely freeing. Of course, that he may have overwhelmed her with his snide reply did not bother him at all—quite the contrary.
She will feel the ire of a king! he thought, feeling justified for his angry and bitter words. He ran them again in his mind, punctuating his better phrases silently with a jab of his forefinger. Then he wondered if she had already read his note. Curious, he dressed quickly and went to the library. A very, old dwarf with a quill stuck behind his ear and his nose almost touching the pages of a book sat at the front desk. When he saw the king, he pushed back his chair with a scrape and bowed reverently.
"May I get you something, your highness?" he asked.
Thorin brushed him aside with a shake of his head and flick of his hand.
"Did anyone come in here last night?" he asked. He felt almost eager to find out, his blue eyes wide and flitting from side to side as if expecting someone to pop out of the stacks and take credit for being the mystery writer.
The dwarf looked around, mirroring the king's movements, and then down at the record log.
"It appears not, my lord," he replied, "but I wasn't on duty all night. We do lock up until morning."
"Ah."
Somewhat deflated, Thorin decided to look anyway, and he strode toward the bookshelf. His note was missing, and he smirked.
She must have read it by now, he thought with mean satisfaction. He felt blood rush through his body. His small revenge energized him. Stroking the cover of the book, he pushed it back in the stacks and put his hands together under his nose to think. Then he frowned.
What if she doesn't reply?
He wondered if he even wanted a reply but then shook it off. She would read the note, see how wrong she was, and either apologize or hang her head in shame.
I'll know when I see them all at breakfast. She'll be the one who's distraught—and rightly so.
All the noble dwarrowdams assembled at the doors to the royal dining hall like pawns and waited to file in at the king's command. This time, they would see him without their fathers, uncles, or brothers. Only their ladies-in-waiting were allowed in to attend to their needs. Princess Onkra stood at the very back, wishing to make a grand entrance after all had already sat down at the table and started eating. She could hardly do anything else since it would take her that long to get there.
"What is that you are wearing, Mern, daughter of Modral?" asked Talar, daughter of Torpor of the Iron Hills, as she strutted around the obviously anxious dwarrowdam. "I believe that style was in fashion not long after Durin awoke."
She and a few others tittered at her discomfort and pretended to hide their smirks behind their hands. Lady Mern looked down shame-faced, picking at her huge princess sleeves, the tops of which came almost up to her ears. She hugged herself and looked away, her small, round eyes filling with tears.
"You should know since you were there," came a low, husky voice that was clearly heard nonetheless. Everyone inhaled in surprise and then the hall echoed with laughter. However, Lady Talar was furious and pushed forward through the crowd.
"Who said that?" she shrieked, looking around with her ham-fisted hands on her wide hips.
"Besides, everyone knows that Talar is a troll in a skirt," said the disembodied voice.
Mern giggled shyly and wiped her eyes, but Talar stomped over with her heels clacking on the stone floor. Unfortunately, she did look something like a troll with her large, flat face and bulging, pale eyes.
"How dare you say such a thing to me!" she yelled, standing before Lady Bruffa of the Grey Mountains.
"I said no such thing," she sniffed, looking down her nose, "although I believe whomever said that spoke the truth."
Before Talar could respond, the heavy doors swung open, and the dwarrowdams smoothed their skirts and adjusted their hair as they were ushered inside. Just before Lady Mern entered, someone slipped a note into her hand. Surprised, she turned around but saw no one but Princess Onkra lumbering behind her. High above, on a hidden balcony, Fili turned to his brother.
"Lady Mern is too sweet for what we have in mind," he said almost regretfully. "I just couldn't do it to the lass, but are you ready for Lady Talar and those others?"
Kili held up a bottle. The different clans brought bribes, or rather gifts, in thanks of Thorin's invitation, and Lord Torpor brought a case of fermented cider that was flavored with rare and exotic spices. Bombur decided to serve it at breakfast.
"We're all set."
The contenders all stood by their chairs and curtsied as the king walked in his nephews, Balin, Dwalin, and the council. Thorin's eyes narrowed as he stared at each face, looking for the mystery writer. Then he saw Lady Mern's red-rimmed eyes and nodded decisively. The little thing didn't seem capable of the clever word-play of the note, but a childlike and innocent appearance could very well hide a sharp tongue. Somewhere in the back of his mind though, he was disappointed in Lady Mern's timid appearance.
She looked up, saw Thorin glaring at her, and burst into sobs. He kept his eyes on her until Fili walked up and whispered something in his ear. Surprised, he pulled his nephew closer and asked a few questions. Fili shook his head, answered back, and then Thorin nodded.
It's not her. By Durin then, who is it?
He looked over at Lady Mern again and nodded after he caught her eye. She stopped with a hiccup and snatched up a few napkins to dab her face. Then she felt the crumpled note in her hand and opened it hastily.
Help is here.
She gasped. Surely no one could know what her father tried so hard to hide. She looked lower and saw a small sprig of flowers as the signature. Lifting her head, she looked up one side of the table while Thorin looked down the other, both trying to find the elusive writer. Some of the contenders noticed his focused gaze and found an excuse to bend over the table and flaunt their assets while others smiled coyly. Others looked surprisingly distracted or disinterested, but he knew it was only a ploy. He stroked his beard. She had to be somewhere among them.
"Uncle?" Kili asked after Thorin stood there staring into each face and grunting in displeasure. Then he bid them sit, and servers handed out mugs of the cider. Then they returned with platters of meats and eggs dishes, cut fruit, and baskets of buns and rolls. The dwarrowdams sat, and some politely talked to each other while others politely traded insults. Princess Onkra finally approached the table with her helpers and stood to next to Thorin's chair. Lady Wogren was sitting to his right and quizzing Fili on the king's preferences and what he wanted in a wife while he edged away, very uncomfortable by her pointed questions.
"Ahem," Princess Onkra began in her breathy falsetto voice, "I believe you're sitting in my chair."
Lady Wogren paid no mind but only scooted her chair in and leaned toward Fili who leaned away.
Trumpeting like an oliphaunt, Princess Onkra yelled, "I SAID, YOU'RE SITTING IN MY CHAIR!"
Balin stuck his pinky finger in his ear and wiggled it around while Kili slapped at his with the heel of his hand. Thorin finally turned to face her. He was seriously tempted to throw her, or rather roll her, out the door, but he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. A morning with her was more than enough, and now he had to endure a month. At least he knew he could easily escape since she certainly couldn't chase him down.
"We placed you at the foot of the table," he said shortly. There was much more he wanted to say, but he remembered his cousin. "We thought you'd be more comfortable," he added quickly after she opened her mouth. He motioned toward three servants struggling to drag a huge and nearly indestructible chair toward the end of the table.
"Ahhh, thank you, you majesty," she purred while batting her sparse lashes, "you are ever too kind." Then she snailed down the length of the long table to her chair. Thorin dismissed her from his mind and rubbed his moustache impatiently. He was determined to find the mystery writer. Who was she? No one here seemed capable of writing what she did. He itched to slip out and head to the library again. Meanwhile, Princess Onkra had finally seated her bulk and arranged her folds when the door opened again.
Wump! Wump! Wump! Thorin looked up confused. What was she doing here? Balin looked amused and Dwalin horrified.
Lady Fregma strode toward the table when she saw a familiar face. Princess Faltha of Mount Dolmed rose quickly to greet her burly friend. Gently butting heads, the two gripped each other's forearms. Princess Faltha was just stocky but on a smaller scale.
"Falth! It be good to see ye again!" Lady Fregma said with obvious fondness. "Herself missed yer noggin, but why didn't ye come to the keep? We awaited ye."
Princess Faltha sighed.
"I missed you too, Freg," she said, "but father needed my help after that sickness swept our lands."
Lady Fregma nodded soberly.
"Aye, and herself grieves fer yourn that died, Falth. "'Twill not sunder us, but herself worried for ye."
"I know. You're a good friend, Freg."
Then Lady Fregma looked around.
"But, Falth, why be ye here? What be betwixt…?"
Her friend stopped her mouth.
"Father has different plans for me, and I know my duty."
Then Lady Fregma scowled and growled in a low voice, "Yourn be a cur who'd trade his own fer gold. Herself'll not stand fer this, Falth! Yourn will face herself, to be sure!"
Then the pair looked up to see that they had become the focus of unwanted attention. Princess Faltha quickly dropped in her seat, but Lady Fregma strode confidently toward Thorin until another caught her eye. She smiled widely, showing a large gap in her teeth, but she looked very glad to see him. He didn't return the compliment. Balin's eyes twinkled at his brother's effort to hide himself among the dwarrowdams.
"Where be yourn?" she asked Dwalin as she sized up the others.
He shrugged helplessly and kicked his brother under the table.
"Ah, well, uh," Balin began, "when Dwalin said he wasn't available, he meant that, well, that…."
"He meant that he serves in the king's royal guard," said Fili coming to the rescue, "and so he doesn't have the time for, uh, wife and family."
Lady Fregma looked skeptical while Balin rolled his eyes. Dwalin glowered at Fili who gestured that he did the best he could under the circumstances.
"Not like you did any better," he muttered.
She frowned and turned to Thorin.
"By yourn, me lord, how long be his service?"
Dwalin hunkered down. "For the rest of my life if I'm lucky," he muttered.
"At least 20 years," Thorin replied calmly. "The duties of protecting the royal family are not entrusted to just anyone, and Dwalin is new to the post."
If Thorin thought he dissuaded her, he was wrong.
"'Tis no matter," she said while patting the top of Dwalin's head. "Herself be young, and himself be worth the waiting."
Then she drew herself up and bowed to Thorin, who nodded formally.
"I thank ye, me lord, fer allowing herself to restock," she said, inclining her head toward Balin. Dwalin turned to his brother with a fierce glare, but he simply shrugged one shoulder and grinned. "By yourn, mebbe herself be asking to stay longer, seeing that me friend, Falth, be here, and herself be taking a fancy to one o'yourn."
Dwalin slid down in his chair, but she yanked him up by his ear to make her point. Thorin looked most amused. It wasn't every day he saw his fierce captain of the guard treated like a naughty dwarfling by an even fiercer dwarrowdam.
Dwalin stared unblinkingly at Thorin while Balin cupped his hand against the side of his face and turned away. His shoulders shook slightly. Fili and Kili looked on with wide eyes, and both put their fists to their mouths and pinched their lips together.
"You may stay as long as you like, Lady Fregma," Thorin said with a completely blank face. She gripped the top of Dwalin's bald head in one, huge palm and gave it a shake in response while he cringed. Balin's shoulders shook harder. "However, I believe your father may have something to say about this."
Dwalin held his hands over his scalp, but she easily pried them off and slapped her fleshy hand on his head, bobbling it absent-mindedly while she thought.
"Aye, me da speaks fer herself, to be sure," she replied. Then she stroked Dwalin's head with surprising gentleness. Looking down at him, she sighed.
"'Tis a tug o'me heart," she admitted. Then she brightened. "Mebbe, me lord could invite da here? Then himself could meet yourn." She looked hopeful and turned back to Princess Faltha, who nodded smiling.
"I will send an invitation without delay," Thorin said smoothly, knowing full well that Lord Freggin rarely if ever left his stronghold except in times of war. He was a wild dwarf covered in battle scars who had an unheard-of six sons and six daughters. They all looked alike so he called his sons Fregmar and his daughters Fregma. To tell them apart, the sons wore red, and the daughters wore green. In truth, Thorin had no idea which Lady Fregma he was talking to, but he supposed it didn't matter much. "But perhaps you had better deliver it yourself, since you hold more sway over your father than I."
Lady Fregma's pebble eyes gleamed, and she grabbed Dwalin's head again and tipped it back to look at him. Dwalin saw her big, square face loom over his.
"Me da will na gainsay herself, me rough rock, so ready yourn," she said happily. Then she squeezed and slapped his cheeks affectionately. Red marks began showing almost immediately.
"By yourn, me lord," she said again turning to Thorin. He nodded, and she strode out the door without looking back.
Dwalin hung his head in his hands while the rest of the table giggled and chattered about what they saw.
"Well, that wasn't exactly what we had planned for breakfast, but it was interesting, to say the least," Fili said.
"The very least," Dwalin replied, looking like a dwarf under a death sentence. He tipped up his mug of fermented cider and then guzzled the mugs to his right and left. The dwarrowdams sitting there were too deep in conversation to notice.
"Fear not, my friend," Thorin said. "She won't be coming back. Lord Freggin never leaves his keep for anything but war, and it's a long way to travel."
"Getting back to the business at hand," Kili whispered to his brother, "when will the tincture take effect?"
"Any time now," Fili replied. "Oin said that it depends on the dwarrowdam and how much she drank."
Kili rubbed his forehead. The best laid plans ...
"Well, this is definitely going to be something to see since Dwalin drank two full mugs."
A few minutes later, Lady Talar leaned over from further down the table and addressed Thorin.
"My lord," she began in a seductive tone, "I just want to thank you for this opportunity to visit Erebor. Your kingdom is so—BRRRRROOOOOMMMMP!"
Her belch was both loud and foul-smelling, and she clapped her hands over her nose and chin. Another lady opened her mouth to laugh. UUUURRRRP! Then another from further down. BRRRAAAAAT! Then another. TWEEEEERRRRRRP!
"Did you give any to Princess Onkra?" Fili asked. Kili nodded.
"I gave her the most."
The brothers looked down the table. Princess Onkra stopped eating and put her hand over her mouth after shuddering slightly. All her folds shook as if someone had jiggled her chair. She put her hand to her mouth again. Out came a dainty "hic." Then she resumed eating and stuffed a whole meat pie in her mouth.
"You've got to be joking!" Fili cried before Kili motioned for him to pipe down.
Lady Talar turned bright red, and Thorin looked around in confusion.
"My lord," she started, "I think—WWAAARRRP!—I had better—WAAAAAAP!—leave at once!"
A smell like rotten eggs and fermenting garbage filled the room.
"What's the meaning of this?" a councilor asked. BUUUUURRP!
Thorin stared at the scene before him and waved his hand as the smell wafted under his nose.
Dwalin started laughing—WOOOOOOOOP! He looked over in shock, and Fili led his gaze to the mugs in front of him.
Catching on quickly, he stood and bowed to Thorin.
"I'd best fetch Oin and the healers, my lord—HAAAAAAWWWWP!"
He ran out of the room. All heard another rafter-rattling belch in the corridor.
Shooting a knowing look at his nephews, Thorin held up his hands.
"Perhaps we'd better adjourn for now."
Later that day, Thorin sat quietly at his desk while Lord Torpor, sweating and wringing his hands, stood before him.
"I don't understand, Your Highness, I simply don't understand!" he said. "That cider's never upset anyone's stomach like that before. In fact, Talar drinks it often."
Thorin simply smiled.
"No harm done, Lord Torpor," he said easily, "Master Oin said that everyone will be set to rights in several days and that it should cause no extra trouble as you travel home. Perhaps it was the movement in the barrels while traveling that made the cider extra potent for some, but in any case, no harm done."
Lord Torpor bowed and scraped, simply relieved to escape without injury, while elsewhere, other families readied to leave after knowing their chances were gone. Dwalin hid in the infirmary along with a number of councilors, and Lady Fregma and Princess Faltha said their farewells. Thorin, after making sure no one was in the hallway, headed quickly to the library. Meanwhile, Fili and Kili checked four dwarrowdams off their list. Four pawns off the board.
"Not bad for one day, brother," Fili said, "and the game continues."
Hope you had fun. Next up is something a little more serious and thought-provoking as the mystery writer answers back. Please review and send ideas!