Wow! What an amazing response to the last chapter! Thank you all for your reviews and clever guesses. A big shout-out to guest reviewers Skywolf42 (many thanks for your multi-story support), Amanda, Leoni, Aranel Mereneth, Guest, dearreader, and DD. I hope I didn't forget anyone. I can't thank you individually, so I'll thank you here. This chapter is a bit different, but it's necessary for now. Oh, and I MUST thank my husband, Eric, for the intro.

Chapter 11

Balin hurried down the hall to Thorin's study, which adjoined his private chambers. He had slept soundly in anticipation of a satisfying answer to the mystery writer's identity in the morning. Thorin's prowess as a warrior was matched by his skill as a hunter, and Balin had no doubt that if the lady went to the library last night, Thorin would catch her.

Dwalin followed behind more slowly. Affairs of the heart made him uncomfortable. He had argued with his brother who pushed him to slurp down his eggs and shovel in his bacon and sausages. The tattooed warrior never rushed through his meals without a good reason—and this wasn't one of them.

"I don't see why we can't just leave him be," he groused. "You're acting like mother used to."

Their mother, the venerable Lady Fundin, never missed an opportunity to grill her sons after their ax lessons.

"Now what happened after your opponent tried to behead you, dear?" she would ask eagerly with her hands cupped around a steaming mug of tea and plates of fresh biscuits in front of her mud- and blood-splattered children.

Dwalin rolled his eyes at the memory.

"Brother, our good king deserves his privacy," he called down the hall to where Balin already stood at the door. Balin waved his hand behind him to shush his brother.

"Keep your voice down," he said in a loud whisper. "Not everyone rises as early as he does." Then he knocked lightly on the door.

"Enter!" Thorin's strong voice answered.

They opened the door to see his desk covered in parchment and maps. Thorin was busy sketching out something around the lower slopes of a geographical survey of the mountain, and Balin peered over to see maps to the mines poking out from underneath. Dwalin folded his arms and held his tongue. Balin didn't.

"Thorin," he asked while waving his arms around at the scattered pile, "what is all this?"

Their king looked up with a quill in his hand, his eyes feverishly bright and focused.

"We need a wall around the lower slopes, Balin," he said, and he flicked the end of his quill at a sketch of a massive wall encircling the entire mountain. "We're not secure enough as we are."

Balin tossed a confused glance to Dwalin who shrugged and said nothing.

"A wall around the whole mountain?" he asked. "Why the mountain itself is a fortress!"

Thorin shook his head emphatically and tapped his finger on the map.

"No," he said firmly, "Smaug breached our gates with ease, so we need to strengthen our defenses."

Balin put his hands on his hips. He was completely flummoxed. Looking around at all Thorin had done, he realized that his liege must not have slept at all last night.

"Laddie," he asked gently, "what about the mystery writer? Did you find her?"

Thorin simply flapped his hand as though shooing away a fly.

"Now if we use the rubble we took out from the new mine," he continued, "we can begin at once, starting 500 paces from the lowest slope. That would give us room for both offensive and defensive weaponry."

"Thorin," Balin tried again, "what about the mystery writer?"

Even Dwalin leaned a little closer this time.

"I want ironworks diverted to make catapults," he replied, "and I want our chemists to make enough flash fire to stock the perimeter."

"Did you find our mystery writer?" Balin persisted. Thorin cleared his throat.

"The wall will have slits where archers can shoot without being exposed," he said a little more loudly.

"WHAT ABOUT YOUR MYSTERY WRITER?" Balin asked in a slow, clear voice.

"Work must begin immediately because we're vulnerable!" Thorin shouted, and he pounded his fist hard on the desk, tipping over his inkwell. Smaug's long, coiled body with glittering, sliver scales fell on one side, and ink poured out of his gaping, fanged mouth like flames. The three dwarves watched silently while trickles of ink breached Thorin's wall and invaded the mountain.

"You forgot to account for how to bridge the water mains and keep our defensive integrity," Balin said quietly, and he pointed out several strategic weaknesses.

Thorin looked down at his ruined creation and gritted his teeth.

"I stayed up all night working on this," he said between his teeth while his fists clenched, and his eyes roved over the map. "I went over and over it. Over and over. All night!"

Then his voice broke, and he pushed the heels of his hands on his eyes.

"I couldn't think of anything else, and I still don't understand!"

He fell back in his throne-like chair, and locks of his hair obscured his face. Dwalin looked at his brother with alarm, but Balin quietly pulled another chair forward and leaned toward his friend.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, laddie?" he asked very gently.

"What difference does it make?" he answered morosely. "She ran out the door sobbing."

Both his friends took a deep breath, and Dwalin leaned back against a wall.

"Tell us anyway," Balin coaxed.

With a heavy sigh, Thorin haltingly began recounting what had happened. At first both brothers grinned, but they turned serious when Thorin described their confrontation.

"It was like being in a dream," he said wistfully. "I couldn't see her, but she let me touch her face."

He turned to his friends with imploring eyes. "She's beautiful, Balin, absolutely beautiful in every way."

Dwalin stifled a snort. To him, this sounded a bit far-fetched. The Thorin he knew was too smart to buy an ax in the dark.

Balin glared at his brother and made a noise in the back of his throat. Then he turned back.

"Go on, laddie," he said softly.

"Then I kissed her."

Balin's eyebrows flew to his hairline.

"You did what?" he asked, all gentleness gone.

"I kissed her," Thorin repeated, his voice sounding far away, "and … she kissed me back."

He ran his hands through his hair.

"I don't know why I did it," he said soberly. "I know I went too far, but I had already told her that I would choose her when the time came."

Now Dwalin's brows matched his brother's.

"Then what happened?" he asked from his place against the wall.

"She hesitated," Thorin replied. "I think she wanted … ah, I don't know what she wanted, but she said she couldn't and ran out the door crying."

Then the three fell silent. Balin crooked his finger and rubbed the bridge of his nose while he thought.

"Tell me again exactly what she said.

Thorin flinched and shook his head with his eyes closed, trying to remember.

"She said, 'I wish,' and then 'I can't.'"

He struggled to think through his fog.

"She said that 'pain would come' if she was found out."

Dwalin let out a low whistle.

Balin tilted his head and appraised his king. It was obvious to him that if Thorin wasn't so deep in his own confusion and sorrow, his usually clever companion would have guessed the answer immediately.

"So you thought she was one of our noble dwarrowdams, didn't you?" he asked calmly.

Thorin looked up immediately, and his eyes finally cleared.

"Nori was right after all," Dwalin said, "but she isn't one of our healers or servants."

Thorin braced his hands on his knees. The fog lifted, and the situation at last made sense. Whoever she was, she was a healer or servant to one of the other clans, which was why she concealed herself. She wasn't playing the game by the same rules that he was. He remembered her soft skin and delicate face. He didn't really know what she looked like, but he was charmed by what he did discover. A relieved smile broke through. Even before he met her, he was captivated by her intelligence and spirit.

"So that's that then," Dwalin said. "Mystery solved."

Thorin's brows pinched together. His friends watched emotions wash over his face. Balin's lips started to twitch, but Dwalin looked dismayed.

"You aren't thinking of going after her, are you?" he asked. "The other clans will be outraged, Thorin, and we're still licking our wounds from the last war. You must marry a noble dwarrowdam. What you're thinking is daft!"

Thorin put his fingers to his lips and stroked them just the way she did while he sat lost in thought. Finally, he stood with a fierce light in his eyes.

"Aye, it is, my friend, but I am anyway."

Gathering the rest of the company together, Thorin told them that the mystery writer was attached to one of the clans and to start looking among their healers and maids.

"She has long, curly hair," he said, "and a heart-shaped face."

"How old do you think she is?" Bofur asked.

Thorin pursed his lips.

"She was old enough to recall my mother clearly," he said while looking up and trying to calculate an age. "I'd put her at about 10 to 15 years older than Fili."

They all nodded.

"So she and Queen Relia must have met while we were traveling on to the Blue Mountains," Balin said. "We did have a number of traveling healers come through as well as visits from other clans with help and supplies."

Thorin nodded.

"Make discreet inquiries," he warned. "She's quick-witted, not to mention that some dwarrowdams don't treat their servants very well. She said that pain would come if she was found out, and I don't want her put in harm's way."

A guard came to his door and bowed.

"Two messages for you, my lord."

Thorin held out his hand and broke the seal of the more official-looking document. He read it quickly and smirked.

"Well," he said, "it was a wise decision to send our own guards with Meera. Modral tried to exact revenge one night, but our own fought him off and tied him up. Just so happens that his brother was on a trade mission close by. Meera and her sisters will now be cared for by their uncle. Oh, and he sends his thanks for our generosity. Hmmm, this is interesting. He's offered to share in return some unclassified gemstone deposits. Stones that change color depending on the light."

"And Modral?" Balin asked.

Thorin chuckled.

"Lord Midral said that he's put his brother to work in his mines for a time, although he offered to send him here if I wish."

He raised his brows, but Balin shook his head.

"Let him be someone else's problem," he said. "He'll live longer there. Our new mine is a temperamental lass, although she hasn't claimed any lives yet."

Thorin exhaled.

"I'm almost of a mind to close it. Lother is certain that he saw a wide seam of gold, but he didn't have good light. I'm not so sure."

He opened the other message and pulled a face.

"Princess Onkra requests my presence urgently."

Nori sniggered. "Did Dolor die then?"

They all laughed heartily. Thorin pocketed the note.

"Make an excuse to come and get me after 10 minutes," he said. Then he paused. "No, after five."

The others laughed and nodded. All of them felt relieved that no summons had come for them.

Meanwhile, Princess Onkra sat like an immovable mound around her entourage and barked orders.

"These buns are stale!" she shouted at her maid. "Get me fresh ones now!"

The maid threw the door open and almost ran into Thorin. She curtsied hastily while he inclined his head and took a deep breath. No scent. Then he turned around and watched dozens of veiled maids and servants running errands. He sighed. Finding her among so many and in so little time wasn't going to be easy.

"You asked to see me, my lady?" he inquired once he turned back to her.

Her gaze flickered up and down, taking him in and, for a moment, he thought he saw a gleam in those almost-closed eyes.

"I wish to thank you, my lord," she said in her breathy tone, "for the help of Dolor during my stay here. He's been most accommodating. My health is delicate, and I have so many needs, but he never once complained."

Thorin nodded.

"I am pleased that he's been of service."

Most pleased indeed.

Onkra pulled apart a sticky bun, picked out the moist middle, and discarded the rest, dropping it into a large basin where the outer layers of dozens of other sticky buns rested in peace. Thorin almost scoffed at her squandering good food, but he bit his lip and with effort kept his expression neutral. Even though his kingdom was wealthy enough to more than meet the needs of everyone, he had lived too long in poverty to tolerate waste.

"Well, now, on to other matters," she said with a simper. "There is something I wish to discuss that's of vital importance, my lord. Perhaps I should start at the beginning …"

A loud bell interrupted her, and all sound in the mountain stopped. He immediately held out his hand to silence her and turned away, listening intently. She eyed him with a menacing glare, but he didn't see it. Another bell sounded, and Thorin turned with a quick "I must go." He flew across the hall and down the stairs as fast as he could. Dwalin met him on a lower level, and both raced to the new mine. Bifur was already there, waving his arms and shouting in Khuzdul. Miners hurried and stumbled through a thick cloud of dust and dirt and out of the mine. A loud rumble sounded behind them.

A dwarf with blood streaming down his temple ran up.

"He went in there with his team without orders, my lord," he said. "We didn't know anyone was in there before we went to work. Then we heard shouts."

Thorin shrugged off his overcoat and made for the mine, but Dwalin and Bifur held him back.

"You can't risk it!" Dwalin shouted above the din. "In there is not your place. You're king now."

Thorin strained against them for a moment but then looked down and nodded. They let him go, and he held up his hands in agreement. He strode over quickly to the foreman in charge.

"How many are still in there?" he asked urgently.

"At least 12, my lord," he answered, "but we dare not go in until we secure the mine."

Thorin nodded and went to the opening. Dwarves carrying shovels, picks, and beams to brace the ceiling trotted up and started working together like the gears of a fine watch. Thorin walked up to them, motioned with his head for a dwarf to move over, and joined their team. After a moment, Dwalin and Bifur stepped up and started carrying more beams toward the mine.

Working together, they braced the mine entrance first. Then they worked further in, and Thorin sent runners to make sure that Oin was prepared to receive wounded. Then he walked into the mine as far back as was safe.

"We will get you out!" he shouted.

Oin and Nella heard the bells as well and shot each other a knowing look.

"Everyone must leave at once or lend a hand," he said to his patients who remained.

Fili and Kili jumped to their feet. They were on the mend, as were the rest of the others. Most now only complained of a scratchy throat or the itching of scabs. However, as far as Oin was concerned, the quarantine was over since those close to death might be coming in.

"How can we help?" Fili asked. Kili nodded behind him.

"Good lads," he replied. "Report to Nella while I prepare the medicines."

They walked up to Nella who glanced up from sorting supplies, and she huffed.

"What do you want now?" she asked with annoyed amusement. "I see you already went through Oin's tray of tinctures. Tell me, which one did you pick?"

Since their illness, the brothers had developed the highest respect for Nella and her skills. They watched with amazement as she easily tended an entire ward and made sure that everyone had what they needed. Standing and fidgeting like guilty dwarflings, they sheepishly pointed to a bottle. She snorted.

"And just exactly what did you expect witch hazel to do?" she asked.

"Cause boils?" Kili answered doubtfully. "We put it on their doorknobs and brushes—anything we thought they might touch."

She cackled with laughter.

"Instead you disinfected everything, which probably accounts for why none of them got sick," she replied with her arms crossed.

The brothers winced, and she turned serious.

"Now we get down to business," she said. "Pull all the linens off the mattresses and pillows and then flip all the mattresses over. We don't have the time to clean them now. All beds need fresh linens, and we need to get the bandages and splints ready."

A number of dwarrowdams crowded around her. Despite their status, they knew that anyone and everyone was expected to help in any way they could when tragedy struck. Nella nodded approvingly.

"You boil water," she ordered, directing two to the kitchen, "and you four make sure we have enough clean bandages. We need at least 500 and all about four inches wide. Rip more from that bolt of linen if we don't. You three use the witch hazel or strong alcohol to clean the needles and knives. Oin is mixing more medicine just in case, so we need to take care of the preparation."

Soon enough, stretchers came one after the other through the door. Oin bustled in with plenty of sedatives, ointments for burns, and medicine to clean and disinfect wounds. Fili and Kili, with Nella's help, readied all the beds.

"Put them here," Oin ordered, and he directed the dwarves to put those most injured closest to the supplies. Thorin came in beside the last stretcher. The dwarf on it moaned in pain, and his eyes were glassy. Nella went to him at once, and the dwarves laid him on a bed. He shook with pain and shock.

"Oin," she called out, and he trotted over. Lother kept trying to open his eyes.

"My lord," he rasped.

Thorin hushed him. "Let them take care of you."

He glanced at Nella and Oin. They had both checked his injuries, and their faces were grave. Oin cleared his throat, but Thorin waved his hand and shook his head. Immediately, Nella pulled up a chair, leaned in close, and started talking quietly to Lother.

"We're going to take good care of you," she said softly. "Tell me about your favorite memory."

Lother grimaced and tried to smile while Thorin looked on with astonishment. Her face had softened, and a gentle glow made her eyes shine. She would never be beautiful or even attractive to most, but her spirit was noble and gracious, and he felt ashamed for ridiculing her. He watched while Lother painfully but eagerly recounted a time when he and his family had a picnic outside the Blue Mountains in the spring many years ago. Thorin knew that they all had died from a devastating influenza a year later.

"I wanted," Lother rasped, "I-I wanted to find s-some r-reason to live again." Then his body went rigid, and blood bubbled on his lower lip. She carefully wiped his mouth with a soft cloth. His eyes fell on his king, and he struggled to open his bloody hand. Thorin reached over and gently pried it open. It held three small rocks.

"G-gold, my lord," he rasped with a bright light in his eyes. "I was r-right, wasn't I? I was r-right."

Thorin took the chunks of worthless fool's gold out of his palm, smiled, and laid his hand carefully on Lother's shoulder.

"Aye," he said approvingly, "you were right all along. Well done, Lother, well done."

The dying dwarf smiled and breathed a last, satisfied breath. A tear trickled down Nella's cheek, and Thorin silently handed her one of his handkerchiefs. She was startled, but he nodded and smiled, and she wiped her eyes.

"There are more I need to tend to," she said hastily and pushed off her chair.

He stood with her and put one hand on her shoulder.

"I am grateful that you made his last moments worthwhile, Nella," he said softly. "You have my thanks."

She looked up with tear tracks on her cheeks and fierce devotion in her eyes.

"They are my people, my lord. I love them, and I'd do anything to keep them safe and well."

After regarding her for a moment, he silently took her hand, bowed low over it, and kissed it. She gasped and quickly looked around the room to see if others had noticed.

"Then we are kindred spirits, my lady," he said, still holding her hand between both of his, "for that is exactly how I feel."

Then she curtsied and hurried off, and he surveyed the room, which buzzed with activity.

And that applies to others of noble heart who have come into my mountain.

Please review, my friends, and I would love to hear from more readers out there. There are plenty of you, so join the party!