Friends prepare. This ain't gonna be pretty.

Chapter 19

Dwalin wasn't in the best of moods. In truth, no one really knew what a "best" mood was when he was sober and not shoveling in roast pork and mashed potatoes drenched in gravy with both hands. His brows always looked like porcupines ready for a fight, and his mouth most often twisted into a semi-permanent frown.

He needed to talk to Thorin about his nephews. Something was afoot, but his liege asked him instead to escort Relianna back to the sick rooms. He tried to push through, but Thorin put up his hand and gazed at him steadily. Commanding blue eyes met frustrated brown. Then Thorin lifted an eyebrow and jerked his head toward the exit. The battle of wills was lost before it began. He stepped forward casually, but there was nothing casual about his unspoken command. Dwalin gritted his teeth and backed down. Like a cloud of gnats, council members were back at it, but Thorin seemed too distracted to listen.

Dwalin bowed and stepped aside to let Relianna pass. Then he noticed that Thorin looked a bit disheveled. With an unhappy sigh, he recalled Dain's words. He had said nothing at the time since he thought his cousin a lout. However, this was exactly what he described. Suddenly, he started having second thoughts. He had groaned and complained like an irritable dwarfling when Thorin and Balin ran through their various scenarios. His nerves shredded on their endless planning and plotting. Durin's beard! A raid on orcs didn't take that much effort! Now, even worse, Thorin told him to have Oin take her to The Garden of The Queens. That could only mean one thing. He wasn't happy, not happy at all.

"Quit stomping, lass," he grumped. "Do you want to wake the dead?"

Stupid plan. She sounds like a company of soldiers. What was I thinking? Why did I ever agree to this?

At first, he was dismayed when Thorin chose to pursue her. Such a lass, no matter how clever, was beneath his king, but he hoped that she was a healer at least. Healers were honorable if not noble. Instead she was Onkra's lady-in-waiting. Mahal! What a scandal! He knew for sure that the other noble families would be outraged, and he didn't blame them.

Of all those he could have had, he picked Onkra's maid ... then again …

One side of his mouth tugged up at the thought, and his eyes gleamed. For a moment, he indulged in the pleasure of imagining that sow's face curdle like sour milk when Thorin announced his bride. He planned to have a good vantage point. Then he shook his head, and the image puffed away like smoke. A servant, a mixed-blood? Dain's unacknowledged bastard? Could it get any worse? He might as well start arming for war.

"Is anything amiss?" he heard her whisper in that husky voice. Her voice wound around his ears, and he felt a shiver. Oh, it was seductive, he'd give her that. She also had pluck, but she was a disaster, make no mistake. He rubbed his ear, trying scratch an imagined itch. Thorin was blindly optimistic, in his opinion, although happier than he had ever seen him. His mouth pursed as he wondered if Thorin had ever been happy. He sifted through his memories like a miner sluicing rubble through a strainer to search for missed gems or nuggets of gold. He was left with tiny flecks of fleeting satisfaction from his prince and then king. Thorin hadn't been happy since his nephews were born. Occasionally, he would smile in approval at a well-made sword or gem setting. Smiles of affection for his family, perhaps, and more rarely for his friends. Ah! No, there was one time several years ago when he had seen him this excited. Aye, when he held up the key at the invisible door on Durin's Day. That bright and youthful joy was not seen again until just days ago when he met his lass face to face.

Dwalin rubbed his mouth. He was willing to overlook much for his friend have that joy again. He also knew that Thorin needed to choose a bride anyway. If his king was decided, he had thought with fatalistic resignation, he might as well stand with him. He and Relianna wanted each other, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. But now should he try?

He winced again at the clank of her hobnailed boots on the stone floor. She was weary and unable to keep her stride.

"Lass!"

"I'm trying!"

A group of council members walked by, and he enjoyed another moment of pleasure at parading her under their noses. As long as she and Thorin saw each other only at night, he could ignore what was coming and pretend it was a game. The black king had a queen in the corner. That was all. There was still maneuvering room, aye, and time to escape. But certainly no check much less checkmate.

In one very short conversation, everything changed. Take her to the garden? The reality of it crashed down on him like rocks from the thunder battle. Now it was disturbingly real, and he felt powerless. She would be queen, and his king didn't even know if she loved him. What if she was a scheming hussy like Lady Wogren only smarter? Such a thing could happen. A slow anger built in him as he looked at all the angles. He scratched his beard with thick fingers. There were too many angles, too many dark corners. He needed to talk to her alone.

"Hurry up," he said, not bothering to soften his tone.

Thorin glanced at his reflection in the mirror and wondered if he should bathe and change into something more formal. He told her to meet him in the garden shortly, but he knew it would take some time before she was ready. He squelched the thought of her bare back and their kisses. Even a moment of recall was enough to arouse him. Instead, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a small box. Then he strode from his chambers to the suite that connected to his.

The queen's chamber had been cleaned and refurbished at the council's order in anticipation of his bride. He put his foot down though at their choice of décor. The mahogany, four-poster bed with delicately fluted columns was suitable as was the matching dresser, writing desk, and chairs by the hearth. However, their choice of garish purple, crimson, and black curtains and bed linens was dismissed without discussion. Instead, he had chosen the blue of the summer sky. Balin chuckled under his breath, asking why he should care what color the bed linens were since he couldn't abide talk of a bride at all. Thorin looked down his nose with a frown. His choice was eminently practical, he said loftily. Balin agreed, but his shoulders didn't stop shaking.

He opened the box. A delicate gold ring of diamonds and sapphires surrounding the Durin crest sparkled faintly in the dim light. His mother's ring, and the ring that all Durin queens had worn since they came to Erebor. He snapped the box shut. He hoped that she would spend little time in her chambers. In fact, he fondly hoped that they would share one bed, but he forced himself not to dwell on the subject.

Walking back into his bedroom, he picked up his mother's book. He had intended to take it with him to the garden since the book began their relationship. Opening the pages, he look among her writings for something he could read to Relianna before he proposed. He looked on one page and read:

Love

Sometimes love is a whisper to the wounded.

Sometimes is it a touch for the torn.

But if love is ever to grow and thrive,

It must be strong enough to survive.

Then he read another:

Fight for love like you'd fight for your life.

With all your wits and strength,

With all the courage you have,

And with your sharpest blade.

Else time and trouble will steal it away.

He flipped through other pages to the back of the book where his mother had painted various portraits and scenes. The ones of Frerin and Dis were slightly faded by his thumb rubbing lovingly over them. Others he didn't recognize, so he never bothered to look at those pages, but then he inhaled sharply. Faces without names came to life before his eyes. On one page he recognized Tamra, her face sad and drawn yet lovely all the same. The next page was of an old dwarf hugging a dwarfling. The lad's face was turned away, but the old dwarf was clearly delighted. Other were scenes of the camps they made and the flowers in the fields. Then he turned to the last page. More flowers and trees. He looked lower and he saw a merry child with an impish smile and a riot of red curls. Relianna. He exhaled slowly and willed himself to stay calm. Below was written Someday, his joy. Next to her portrait was his own profile, hardened and foreboding with grim lines running down his face and his brow knotted by cares. Below was written Someday, her love.

Tears fell, and he didn't try to stop them. They ran down his face and into his beard. Somehow, his mother had known all along. She had asked Relianna to seek him out for protection, but she knew or hoped more would come of it.

Mother, what did you see in us?

He knew then he would hold his mother's words in his heart for as long as he drew breath. He washed his face quickly and changed into fresh clothes. Deciding to keep his attire simple and personal, he cleaned up and opened his door. He hoped with all his heart that his life would be different when he returned. Pocketing the ring, he took his mother's book and headed for the garden.

Dwalin opened the door to the infirmary to see most of the company waiting there. Only Fili and Kili were absent. On some errand, he was told.

"Well, my lady," Bofur said, "I know we all had some doubts at first, but any lass who would dress up like you did to spend time with our king deserves our support. We all enjoyed watching you both. Not to mention giving Onkra the what for of her fat life. "

A loud chorus of "ayes" sounded. Dwalin snorted.

"Oin here is to take her to The Garden of the Queens," he said sourly.

At once, they surrounded her, giving her hugs and best wishes as well as gifts to say they were sorry. Bombur presented a book of his best recipes.

"Mind you don't share them!"

Nori gave her an emerald brooch. She made much of it but wisely didn't ask where it came from. Dori gave her a bottle of the best wine of Erebor.

"For you to share in a private moment."

Gloin gave her gold cuff bracelets.

"I melted down a great many coins to have those made, you know."

Balin simply gave her a hug.

"I'm so happy for you, lass. You're a brave one, and our king has chosen well."

Then they presented her with an emerald-green dress. A more modest dress.

"The one that, er, Fili and Kili had made should be for a private dinner," Balin said. "We were going to give this to you anyway to replace it, but I see that now is the perfect time."

Nella stepped forward with a number of remedies.

"I know you enjoy experimenting with herbs as much as I do, and I hope we can work together one day, and you can show me what you've learned."

All at once, her face turned as pale as milk.

"How long have I been here?" she asked, grabbing Nella's arm.

"Almost a month," Balin answered with a quizzical expression.

She looked up and squinted, seeming to calculate something in her mind.

"Do you stock grape seed extract, yarrow, and stinging nettle?" she asked Nella urgently.

Oin shrugged.

"Only in small quantities, lass," he said. "Smaug scorched our earth, and little grows here yet. The Irons Hills though is a rich source of all three, although their healer keeps a close eye on their stocks. What do you need them for? Are you ill?"

She shook her head slightly and tried to smile.

"No, forgive me. These days passed so quickly that I lost track of time. A friend needs them but still has enough for a week or so."

Nella looked confused.

"What illness do they treat? I'm not familiar with using them together."

Relianna just shook her head, trying to smile and ease their concern.

"It's of no matter, but I'd be obliged if you could mix them up for me just the same. An equal part of each."

"Would they be for a lass or a dwarrow?" Dwalin asked stone-faced.

All fell silent.

"I don't know what you mean," she retorted, but two spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

Dwalin grabbed her arm amid the others' cries.

"A word alone, my lady," he said and steered her into an unused chamber.

"Well?" she asked with her chin lifted. "I mustn't keep Thorin waiting."

Dwalin folded his arms across his chest and scowled down at her.

"Some might want only to be queen," he said.

"Some might," she replied coldly.

"Want riches and power mebbe."

"True enough."

"But if Erebor wasn't their home," he pressed, "and the king were a simple miner or smith instead, they might refuse such a life." He moved closer, and she felt his breath puffing down on her.

"Aye, they might," she replied calmly. "It's a question I asked myself."

"What was your answer?"

She smiled grimly and walked toward the door. Grasping the knob, she turned back to him.

"None of your business."

Dwalin stalked out after her, pushed past the company, and slammed the outer door. She stood there as calmly as she could manage. Her hands were clasped tightly together and trembling.

"It seems that Master Dwalin still has some doubts," she said shakily, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

Balin shook his head sadly at the closed door.

"He'll come 'round, lass," he said. "He's just protective of Thorin is all."

She shook her head and tried to shrug off the tension.

"I understand," she said, "and I don't blame him. This surprised everyone, including me and Thorin."

Then they laughed, and Nella helped her get ready. When she emerged, her hair was combed and curled into ringlets. The rich color of the dress made them flame and enhanced the blush on her face. With Nori's brooch at the dip of the sweetheart neckline, and Gloin's bracelets on her arms, she looked beautiful. They no longer saw her blood. Then she ruefully slipped her veil over her head.

"Not for much longer, lass," Bofur said with a wide grin. "Before ya know it, you'll be walking down the aisle, not across the halls."

She nodded, and Oin held out his arm.

"Only to the end of the hall," she said. "Then I need to be a servant."

He harrumphed.

"We'll burn that veil after you're announced."

She hesitated and tugged him to a stop.

"Will there be much trouble?"

He dithered and then bit his lip.

"Aye, but with all of us behind you, we'll push it through."

Impulsively, she hugged him, and he blushed and ducked his head.

"Now, lass, I'm too old for a hug from someone so lovely."

He couldn't see her grin, but he heard it in her voice.

"Get used to it!"

Thorin walked down the hall imagining sweet and tender moments when a guard came running up.

"An accident, my lord! A fire on the level above the mines, and the princes are trapped!"

For a fraction of a second, Thorin's eyes flickered to the hallway leading to the garden. Then he turned to guard.

"Where are they?"

Oin led Relianna to the garden, and she breathed in the scent of roses and gardenias among other fragrant blossoms. The garden was filled with flowering trees waving gently as though to bid them welcome. Elegant statues of Erebor's queens stood proudly in various parts of the garden. Wandering around, she touched each plant and lifted her face to the warm, spring breeze.

"How lovely!" she breathed. Then she saw one standing with its arms outstretched as if for an embrace, and her hand flew to her throat.

Aunt Relia.

Oin looked around and was satisfied they were alone.

"Are you looking for someone besides Thorin, Master Oin?" she asked with a teasing smile.

He tried to match it.

"No, my lady, no one." He added under his breath, "I hope."

Just then they heard the pounding steps of a guard.

"Master Oin! Fire on the lower level, and the princes are there!"

He inhaled sharply, and Relianna grabbed his arm.

"We must go at once!" she cried.

He nodded at the guard who ran off and then gripped her shoulders.

"No! You'll be found out. Stay here and hide yourself until Thorin comes. I fear we may have a saboteur. Beware of strangers."

She nodded, blinking rapidly and chewing on her lips.

"I will pray for them, Master Oin. Please save my friends."

He nodded and trotted quickly out the door while she hid behind the arbor.

Thorin raced down to the lowest level above the mines, joining various members of the company and other guards along the way.

Relianna whispered fervent prayers that all would be well when the door to the garden opened. A dwarf entered with a goblet filled with what looked like red wine and a pitcher. He held up the goblet and drank from it. She saw his face in the sunset. It was Befrin. She made a sound, and he turned in surprise.

"Who's there?" he asked while scanning the shrubs.

She hesitated and then smiled. Befrin wasn't a stranger.

"Master Befrin," she said shyly as she stepped out, "you startled me."

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his plain face lit with a smile.

"Why, my lady!" he exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing in those bushes?"

She waved her hand aimlessly and then frowned.

"Why are you here in the family garden?"

He looked stunned.

"Dear me!" he said as he looked around. "I've been so preoccupied. I must have gone down the wrong hallway in my excitement!"

She stepped closer.

"What excitement? Didn't you hear about the fire and the princes?"

He looked horrified and listened carefully as she told what she knew.

"I will go down at once," he said firmly, but then he looked at the jug and goblets. "Perhaps we should pray to Mahal and offer a sacrifice first." He smiled slightly. "I came to offer thanks. My granddaughter had her wee bairn today. She had such trouble conceiving. I was headed to the public garden, but I must have lost my way."

He chuckled in embarrassment.

"I'm afraid I haven't all my wits today."

Relianna wanted to urge him to hurry down, but a prayer first seemed right.

"Please, Master Befrin."

He bowed his head in respect, and they walked to the balcony.

"I drink thanks to you, our creator, for the gift of life," and he drained what was left in his goblet. Then he filled the other. "I ask you now to favor us and spare the lives of the princes and anyone else who may be in harm's way."

He poured the red wine over the side. Then he filled it again.

"For you, my lady," he said while watching her carefully.

"You must have waited a long time for this moment, Master Befrin," she said with a soft smile. The cut-crystal goblet winked in the setting sun, and the wine looked like liquid garnet.

He returned her smile with a twinkle in his eyes.

"A very long time, my lady," he said. Then he paused. His gaze never left her face. "A very, very long time."

She walked to the edge of the balcony and was about to pour the wine out as well, but he stopped her.

"No," he said, "drink first to life and then fill the glass and pour it out like I did.

"I don't understand."

"Why child, we must give thanks before we ask Mahal for blessings."

She nodded. That made sense.

"We thank you for Befrin's new grandchild," she said, holding up the goblet.

Then she hesitated and looked toward him for confirmation. He nodded, his smile growing wider.

"And now we ask for the lives of the princes and all others in harm's way."

She tipped up the goblet and drank all the wine. It tasted strange. She recognized cinnamon and a dash of honey, but there was something else, something gritty.

"What is this?" she asked. Whatever it was, it was potent, but she supposed she was unused to strong wine. He watched her face carefully. She tried to fill the goblet again to pour out, but her hand felt weak, and she missed the rim. The pitcher smashed on the floor. She looked down dumbly, unable to care.

"A special brew, my dear," he replied, his smile turning cold and his eyes glittering in the growing dark. "A special brew to celebrate something I've wanted for a very long time."

Thorin reached the lowest level with the company and looked around wildly for his nephews. Oin and Nella hurried in a few minutes later.

"What are you doing here, Oin?" Thorin demanded. "Who's with Relianna?"

Then Fili and Kili ran up.

"Uncle! What happened?" Fili asked worriedly. "We were told there was a terrible accident and that you were hurt."

They were breathing hard as though they had run from the upper halls.

Thorin's eyes widened in horror, and the truth dawned on all of them at the same time.

"Relianna!"

Her sight blurred, and her tongue felt thick.

"What … what you've done?" she asked, no longer able to speak in full sentences. She fell to the floor, and he made no effort to help her. In his nondescript face was the satisfaction of long-sought revenge. He filled her view, but she was too numb to flinch. He grabbed her chin with rough fingers and jerked her face up.

"Mark my words, mongrel, before you die. I am Zozer the Shadow Assassin. I've come for blood vengeance. Your grandfather was clever and hid you well, but no longer. You will die before midday tomorrow. I could have killed you now, but first I want to make you suffer as your bitch of a mother made my kinswoman and her daughter suffer!"

Then he spat in her face, turned on his heel, and left her convulsing on the ground.

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