Many thanks for your reviews and for those who signed up for this story! I tried to write back to some of you, but you don't have PM capability it seems, so thank you, thank you, and if you sign up to receive emails, let me know, so I can meet you personally! To dearreader, I had to laugh at your reference in your review to the Scarlet Pimpernel. It is one of my favorite stories, but the similarity here was completely coincidental—or was it? Might be a case of unconscious usage, but I'm having fun with it nonetheless!

Chapter 6

Lady Mern stood on a balcony, facing out at the lushly green valley beyond low hills of the mountain. She felt again in her pocket for the crumpled note. How could someone know her secret? But evidently someone did. She shivered in the still-warm afternoon air, the slight breeze ruffling her fluffy, blond curls. What could the writer do? What would the writer do? If she was found out, all would be lost. She was her family's last hope, and she couldn't fail them, or else they would lose everything—something that her father threatened her with time and again. She had no choices of her own in this game, but she had the most important part to play. Smoothing down her light pink, satin gown, she pinched cheeks and lifted her chin. She knew that she was pretty enough and had a voluptuous figure that should earn her at least one admiring glance from the king if she played the game correctly. Her tutors were thorough and coached her well on how to attract a dwarf by any means necessary. She couldn't fail. She would not fail. Putting a smile firmly in place, she wiped traces of her tears from her face and prepared for her turn with the king.

Nothing! Thorin rapidly thumbed through all the pages and then shook the book rather roughly by the cover. Nothing at all. Then he remembered what book he was handling and quickly smoothed the pages. A wave of disappointment swept through him, but he didn't delve too deeply to figure out why. That he didn't like mysteries was enough. They made him suspicious. Even as a beardling, he never liked suspense, preferring instead to figure out the answer to any riddle or story as quickly as possible. He turned to see Lupor standing there, his round spectacles perched on his long, thin nose. Another nosy councilor was too easy a pun.

Perhaps a vulture with a long beak, eager to feast on my flesh, he thought irritably.

"My lord," the barrel-chested councilor said in a wheedling, nasal tone since the spectacles pinched terribly, "we've worked out a rotation for you to meet with our noble dwarrowdams. It's only fair that they receive equal time with you."

Thorin stared at him unwaveringly.

"Uh, as well as giving the council the opportunity to consider the political advantages each brings to Erebor."

The king arched one brow and did not move. Lupor tried to match his imperial glare but failed.

"It's still my choice," Thorin rumbled angrily as he thrust his chest out, "and I'll make my choice according to the one I least despise, not according to what wealth or connections she brings to Erebor. We already have plenty of both."

Lupor wrinkled his nose, and his spectacles popped off with a poing. He stepped back as though he had smelled one of Dwalin's putrid burps.

"But my lord must surely understand that strategic alliances must be crucial to your choice!"

He held out a timetable and waved it when Thorin didn't move to take it.

Instead, the beleaguered king replaced his mother's book with studied care. Then he turned and callously ground the spectacles under his heel. Smiling wolfishly at the sound of their crunch, he grabbed the sheet of parchment and stalked away without another word, only to stop short at the sight of librarians and other dwarves scurrying to remove furniture and push tables back.

"What's going on here?" he asked as he looked around him. They appeared to be getting ready for a disaster. Rare volumes and other valuable artifacts were being packed away hastily and rolled on carts into storerooms.

"Quickly!" one dwarf said to another who held numerous scrolls in his arms. "She's almost here!"

Thorin looked on in amazement until Princess Onkra appeared at the door.

"Has she been here before?" he asked as a horrible thought took shape in his mind.

"Aye, my king," said one dwarf as he ran by with his arms load with first editions. "She came by yesterday."

He ran his hand over his mouth. It couldn't be. It just couldn't, but he had to know.

"What did she want?" he demanded.

The dwarf looked surprised and looked at the other dwarves who all shrugged.

"She came to look at the books, but"—he lowered his voice—"she didn't fit in the stacks, so after we cleaned up the mess she made, we brought out books to her."

Thorin ran his hands through his hair and winced as her false, feathery voice reached his ears.

"Surely, you have some romance novels," she whined coquettishly.

"Did she asked for anything specific?" Thorin asked quickly. "Did you show her anything? Anything from the family archive?"

The dwarves eyed each other again, and all shook their heads.

"She didn't check anything out, my lord," one said finally, "and we don't keep records of those who come in but don't borrow books. I don't recall anything from the family archive though."

Thorin exhaled and bit his lip. He refused to look her way. She was not the mystery writer. He wouldn't believe it no matter what evidence was presented. He didn't think why it mattered.

"I want to know if any of the noble dwarrowdams come in or if any servant requests anything from the family archive. I want to know immediately! Do you understand?"

He fixed a piercing stare at each in turn, and all nodded quickly.

"Aye, my lord," they replied in unison.

He turned and left. Stopping in the hallway to glance at the list, he saw he was to meet Lady Mern on the upper balcony. Feeling like a pawn himself instead of the king, he stomped up the stairs and saw the pretty, young dwarrowdam leaning on her elbows as she looked at the hills beyond.

"I'm told I must meet with you now," he said sullenly. She turned around with a gasp, and he suddenly felt a pang of remorse for being so rude. He frowned. "I meant to say that I see you're enjoying our view to the valley below."

He stepped beside her and gestured at the farthest rising hill.

"We can see 50 miles off on a clear day," he said confidently. "More than enough distance to spot an approaching army."

Lady Mern put on a brave face and turned to him smiling. "I see you think in military terms," she said teasingly. Her smile faltered at his suddenly closed face. "But after what you and your people have been through so recently, I can well understand why."

He nodded and looked out again in the distance, his face suddenly like one of the large, stern statues guarding the entrance of Erebor. She took an opportunity to look at him unobserved. Her tutors were truthful in saying the he was very handsome and appealing in a darkly tragic way, but she couldn't imagine living with such a gloomy dwarf. Still, she had to try.

"So," she began, "so, I see that you have large coal deposits nearby. How fortunate for your smelting operations. Is it anthracite or bituminous coal?"

Thorin looked askance and really noticed her for the first time. He wasn't expecting any conversation worth replying to, but she surprised him with her question.

No doubt drilled into her scheming head, but interesting nonetheless.

"We use a combination of coals to reach the desired temperature for iron ore. Anthracite burns the longest and the hottest, but it's hard to light, so we mix it with softer coals."

She nodded.

"I see," she replied, "that explains the better quality of your steel, my lord. I noticed that during our quick tour of the armory after, uh, breakfast."

Appealing to me through my interests. Clever, I suppose, but obvious.

Then she leaned forward slightly, giving him a good look at her full cleavage. Mixing brains with bosoms was always enticing, she was told. He stared pointedly at her chest while she arched her back a little and then looked away, feigning ignorance.

"Is that what they told you to do next?" he asked flatly. She looked up quickly, dropping her pert look. His eyes weren't filled with desire. He didn't move closer and put his hand on her shoulder or neck and run his fingers under her hair. In fact, he didn't move at all. Instead, his cold, blue eyes pinned her in place. She felt far more exposed than she had intended.

"My, my lord?" she stammered. This wasn't what she expected, and she didn't know what to do next. Her tutors said that King Thorin was clever, but they also said all dwarrow were attracted to a ripe figure. One look at her offered charms should have been enough to catch his eye, but the contempt on his face told her something else. Her tutors had miscalculated. He wasn't merely clever, but instead was sharply intelligent, discerning, and completely disgusted by feminine wiles. She had made her move against the black king and lost. She looked away, and her chin trembled while she tried to protect what was left of her dignity. Wrapping her arms over her chest, she hugged herself.

Just then Dolor trotted by with Princess Onkra's entourage keeping pace behind him. Lady Mern turned quickly to hide her humiliation and took a deep breath. Then she dropped her arms, threw back her shoulders, and addressed the king.

"I apologize for listening to my handlers, my lord," she said. "If I could start anew with you, I think you'd find…."

"I'd be just as disinterested, my lady," he finished bluntly. The two held each other's eyes until hers dropped, and she ran sobbing down the stairs. Thorin grumbled angrily and then stooped to pick up a crumpled piece of paper on the floor.

Help is here.

He gasped when he saw the flower below. Help? What help? Not for him but for Lady Mern. What help did she need? All at once, Thorin felt that too many players were on the board. He looked at his list. He needed to meet with only three more candidates before the feast, and then his time was his own.

For the next several hours, Thorin pretended to listen to tedious accounts of the ladies' journeys and the latest gossip about the various clans. He hated small talk, but he nodded at all the right times and places just so he wouldn't have to say anything. Then the dwarrowdams retired for their beauty naps before assembling for the feast. There were more empty places at the table, but Lady Wogren quickly grabbed the seat next to Kili and proceeded to grill him on the king's habits. Thorin stalked in 20 minutes after the others, and all stood before he waved for them to sit and eat. He picked at his food, briefly wondering if more culinary disasters were afoot, but Balin shook his head slightly at his silent question, so he settled in and ate as much as he could for one who had a sour stomach.

The dwarrowdams preened and gossiped about those who had already left, and they laughed at Lady Talar's embarrassment. Their voices oozed sweetness and false concern, but their comments were biting.

"I heard that she left wearing a hooded cloak so no one could see her face," Lady Kern said to Princess Faltha who merely nodded and looked down the table, "and that's an improvement!"

"Where is Lady Mern?" the princess asked suddenly. Another dwarrowdam snickered from further down the table.

"I believe she's packing, since I heard that she displeased the king," she replied in a carrying whisper.

"No!" butted in Lady Bruffa, pretending to care. "Well, I'm not surprised. Did you see her gown? The poor dear's chest was practically bursting out of it. How vulgar! What did she mean to do? Seduce him in the hallway?"

Fili and Kili rolled their eyes at the conversation, and Thorin pushed his plate away as his eyes drifted to the doorway. Shifting in his seat, he tapped his fingers restlessly, trying to find some excuse to head back to the library. Then he remembered he didn't need one. He clapped his hands twice and all stopped eating.

"I just remembered some important business that I must attend to without delay," he said while rising to his feet. "I will return shortly, so please continue."

His nephews looked up surprised, and the few council members conferred together.

"What could be so pressing, my king, that would take you away from our noble dwarrowdams?" asked Dolor with a resentful edge to his voice. He had finally sat down to eat, and already Princess Onkra's lady-in-waiting had slipped another list in his hand.

Thorin merely inclined his head and pressed his lips together.

"Business of the realm," he answered cryptically and left without another word.

"What was that about?" Fili asked in a low voice. Kili shrugged.

"Maybe he has his own plan."

Thorin strode purposefully into the library and held up his hand to stop the attendant from addressing him. With each step he grew more eager to see if the mystery writer had responded. His words had scorched the pages, and he wanted to read her response.

Let's see if she has a taste for it!

The thought that she may not have answered at all didn't cross his mind. Almost trotting now to the back of the white, marble library, he pushed open the rosewood gate carved with the Durin crest that allowed entrance past the low partition wall that separated the rare books and Durin family archive from the rest of the collection.

The gate opened with a creak. Moving quickly, he saw that his mother's book stuck out slightly from the others, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He opened the cover and pulled out several sheets of paper. Inhaling deeply of the same floral scent, he found an overstuffed, leather chair in a back corner and sat down to read with an unexpected thrill of anticipation.

My Lord,

I meant no offense to your mother, Queen Relia, when I left my note in her book. She was all that was lovely and gracious, and I would never purposely insult or sully her memory. For your pain on my part, I sincerely apologize.

Thorin snorted smugly. He settled in, expecting to enjoy her groveling.

Indeed, I owe her my life.

He reread the line and sat up, suddenly attentive to every word.

Long ago, she met my mother down by a stream after she decided to take a walk while the lords conferred on trade relations. My mother at that time was very sad and despaired even of life. Pregnant with me, she thought that perhaps death was preferable to the pain she was feeling and had filled her pockets with rocks and was heading toward the deep and fast-moving water.

Queen Relia called out to her and pulled my mother away from the water, hugging her tightly until she broke down and cried out her pain. You mother's words of wisdom and comfort gave my mother a new perspective on her situation, and the two became friends. I will forever honor her for saving my mother's life and, consequently, my own. She even left a letter for me for when I came of age, and I memorized her words and will treasure them always.

Thorin unconsciously brushed away a tear that had trickled into his beard. His mother's kindness and compassion were well-known, but he had never heard this story though he did not doubt its veracity. He smiled fondly and ran his finger over the words as though to summon up her spirit.

It was just like mother to have done something like that, he thought, and he felt a fresh stab of grief for losing her too soon. Then he turned the page.

I also sympathize with Your Majesty for the difficult situation in which you find yourself. It is indeed infuriating to have others dictate the terms of your life, and I sympathize with your frustration and anger at being forced into a situation not of your own choosing. No dwarf of strong will and character would feel any different, and this situation is particularly galling since the consequences will last for generations. I firmly believe that one has to not only love their chosen partner in life but like them as well. Otherwise, we are no different from farm animals that are bred for their productivity.

Thorin frowned at her comment. In one sentence, she perfectly described how he felt: like a prized stallion being put out to stud. He had the power to direct the affairs of a kingdom but not his own life, and his anger burned anew at her accurate observation. At the same time, he felt comforted by her compassion and agreed with her sentiments.

However, I feel I must bring to your attention that you are not alone in this regard. There are others here who are suffering as greatly as you, although they are better at handling it graciously.

Thorin's mouth turned down at her obvious dig at his attitude, but he considered her point nonetheless. It never occurred to him that not every dwarrowdam was scheming to be queen of Erebor. He rubbed his mouth and reviewed his behavior over the past several days. If even a few were as upset and angry as he was, he only compounded their pain with his rudeness. That didn't sit well with him. He also noted that she, herself, completely overlooked his angry words and accusations toward her, something that he wouldn't have done had their situations been reversed. It seemed that his manners were indeed lacking, just like she said.

Take Princess Faltha, for example. She is a lovely and loyal dwarrowdam who was forced to break off her betrothal to a noble dwarf whom she loved because her greedy father saw a chance to have access to a greater fortune here. Such a thing is a disgrace, yet did she stomp into the dining room, acting surly to everyone she met?

Thorin shifted uneasily at her accurate portrayal of his behavior.

Or consider Lady Mern. Are you aware that Lady Mern is not Lady Mern at all but rather her younger sister? Lady Mern, sadly, died of a fever several months ago, and to compound matters, Lord Modral had made several unsound investments that nearly emptied the treasury. Rather than admitting to his own mistakes and asking for help from his wiser brother, however, he has forced his young daughter, Meera, who is all of 14 YEARS OLD, to pose as her older sister in hopes of tempting you into matrimony—by any means necessary. This poor child has been drilled and coached every day since her sister died to catch a rich dwarf despite our laws forbidding those underage to wed. Even worse, her mother and father have made her believe that she is responsible for saving their fortunes. This poor child hasn't even had a chance to grieve her sister! I defy you now to say that your pain is worse than hers!

Thorin dropped the letter in his lap. Now he was truly and thoroughly shocked. How could this be? These were outrages if true, and he had no reason to think otherwise. Then he thought that perhaps the mystery writer was attempting to eliminate competition. He opened the note he found.

Help is here.

No, he decided. She wouldn't have written that if it wasn't true. Somehow she tried to help and encourage Lady Meera, who must now be feeling desperate after what had happened on the balcony. Thorin moaned softly and ran his hands over his face. He had treated her despicably, and only Mahal knows what was going on in her guest suite. Lord Modral must know by now what had happened and was probably berating the child or worse.

He rose to his feet and stormed out of the library, not bothering to read the rest of the note.

"Have Lady Mern and Lord Modral meet me in my private study immediately," he barked at a guard who nodded and ran at his command.

He paced impatiently until he heard a knock at his door. Then he seated himself behind his desk, and bid the guard to let them in. Lord Modral walked in stiffly with a scowl on his face that he quickly replaced with an insincere smile. Lady Meera followed looking anywhere but at Thorin's face. She had a purpling bruise on her cheek. A red mark matched a ring on his father's hand. Thorin ground his teeth and gripped the arms of his chair so that he wouldn't strangle the odious lord where he stood.

"You Majesty," Lord Modral said in an oily voice, "I apologize for the apparent misunderstanding between Lady Mern and yourself. I'm sure that once I explain …"

"Lady Meera," Thorin said calmly.

Lord Modral turned white, and she whipped around with shocked eyes.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" he asked shakily.

"This is Lady Meera, your 14-year-old daughter, is she not?" Thorin asked, his voice now menacing and dangerous. He rose slowly, never taking his eyes off the now quaking dwarf in front of him. "When I told Balin before this travesty began that I had a choice of bedding several children, I didn't mean it literally. How dare you bring me your underage daughter! This is a crime punishable by 30 years of hard labor in any kingdom."

Lord Modral fell on his knees.

"My lord," he cried, "forgive me. I was, I was …."

Thorin glared down at the shaking dwarf.

"You were desperate because you gambled almost all the money in your treasury on bad investments."

His mouth fell open.

"How? How could you possibly know that?" Then he turned on his daughter. "Who did you tell, you sneaky, no-good …?"

Before he could get another word out of his mouth, Thorin moved quickly from behind his desk to grab him under the throat.

"Not another word, Modral, not another word unless you want to start your 30 years in the mines of Erebor!"

Then he threw him on the ground. Lady Meera held her hands to her mouth and tried to stifle her sobs.

Slowly, Thorin approached her.

"Have no fear, my lady, help is here."

Her head snapped up, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"Was it, was it …?"

He smiled and shook his head but held out the note. She took it and held it to her breast like a precious object. He nodded and smiled again softly.

"No, child, but you have an unknown champion and defender here, and I will honor her wishes," he said gently.

Then he looked down at Modral, and his face hardened.

"You don't deserve it, but I will not let your people or your family suffer because of your stupidity," he said sternly. He pulled a rope, and a servant appeared at the door.

"Get Balin and an accountant from the treasury now."

The servant bowed and bustled off.

No one spoke until they arrived. Balin frowned when he saw who was in Thorin's private study, but he stayed silent.

"Balin, I want you to witness the transfer of enough gold and jewels to refill Lord Modral's treasury, as well as a sizable dowry for Lady Meera and each of her sisters. All will be under the management of Lord Modral's eldest brother, Lord Midal."

Lord Modral huffed slightly but dropped his head when Thorin glared at him.

"I do this only for your daughter's sake," he said sharply as his eyes filled with disgust. "She is a lovely young dwarrowdam, and she has earned my esteem and respect, which is more than I can say for you."

Then he stepped closer.

"These measures I'm taking are on the condition that you never raise your hand to your children ever again. I will hear of it if you do, or more importantly, your brother will, and I will send you to the deepest pit to work the new mines where cave-ins are frequent. Since your crime was committed in my realm, the sentence is mine to pass, and I doubt your brother would disagree."

All of Lord Modral's bluster disappeared, and he hung his head in agreement.

"Balin, take him away and make all the arrangements, as well as all supplies they will need to return home. Send an escort of five warriors as well as two maids to attend Lady Meera until she reaches home. I don't want him to try anything after he leaves our borders."

Balin nodded and left after Lord Modral was shoved out of the room by the accountant.

Then Thorin turned to Lady Meera.

"You need have no fear of me, child, but I kept you here to apologize. I was very wrong to treat you unkindly, and I regret it."

She stared at him curiously for a moment and then threw herself into his arms.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, my lord!" She started crying. "I don't know how much more, how much more I could have … Mern was, she was … I looked up to her, and now …."

Thorin was startled, but his arms rose of their own accord, and he stroked her hair, remembering all the times he had done the same for his sister when she was alive.

"I know, child, I know. I've lost so many, and each one hurts like the pain will never go away, but you have other sisters, do you not?"

She nodded, snuffling into his fur collar.

"Then you'll be able to comfort each other now without fear. I'll make sure that Lord Midal knows what happened. He's a good and honorable dwarf. You'll be safe now."

She pulled away and stared at him as though he confused her.

"You seemed so harsh and cold at first, but you're really not, are you?" she asked wonderingly. "I'm glad because now I won't be sorry for whomever you choose."

Thorin's brows rose, but then he chuckled at her frank honesty.

"I'm both, I suppose, depending on the circumstances," he admitted ruefully, "but I had a sister I loved dearly, and even now I love her sons as my own."

"So how did you know about all this?"

He scratched his head.

"You defender found a way to write to me and tell me of your circumstances." Then he thought of something.

"Do you know who she is?" he asked, trying to hide his sudden excitement.

She scrunched her mouth and shook her head.

"She slipped a note into my hand after Lady Talar teased me, but I never saw her."

"Did she speak to you at all?"

Meera shook her head. Then she grinned. "But someone insulted Talar after she taunted me about my dress, and I think it was her."

Thorin leaned forward like an eager dwarfling.

"What did she say?"

Balin opened the door to find both laughing and Meera wiping her eyes. Then Thorin kissed her hand.

"Safe travels, Meera, and let us know if you need anything."

She curtsied with a big smile on her face.

"My thanks, my lord. I wish I had a father like you."

He nodded after she shut the door and then asked Balin to send in Princess Faltha and her uncle.

"May I ask what you're doing, Thorin?" he wondered.

He smiled. "Clearing the board of a few more pieces, my friend."

Balin left shaking his head in confusion, and Thorin sat down. He thought about the writer's cryptic message: Help is here. What was her plan anyhow? Then he remembered that he didn't read the last page of her note.

Now I want to thank you, my lord, for assisting dear Meera. I knew you'd find it within yourself to help this unfortunate child and her sisters. The son of Queen Relia could do no less. Besides, I couldn't very well offer her help and not see that she gets it!

Thorin laughed heartily. What cheek she had to make him fulfill her promise! She was a true chess master. He shook his head in admiration of her skill and read on.

I think you'll find Princess Faltha's uncle a bit more challenging, but just remind him of the stink he made many years ago to wed his beloved, and he'll bend. He loves his niece, and once you win him over, her father will be no problem. A small bribe of several large emeralds, however, would not go amiss!

And now I say farewell, my lord. If there is more mischief I can make, I will not use your mother's book to let you know. Instead, I'll use a book that's more worthy of your skill. I wish you victory over your opponents.

Thorin inhaled the scent and once again tried to place it. He ran his thumb over the flower signature. He had find out who she was, although he doubted that she would reveal herself during with her audience with him. She had proved herself far more clever than that. Sitting quietly, he thought through several strategies before nodding with satisfaction. It was time to move some pieces of his own.

Hope you enjoyed and please review! Encouragement is welcome and most needed!