After the dwarven smack-down (and I hope that doesn't mean anything else in another language. Non-American-English speakers help me out), I need to clean up the mess, so here's part one of that scenario.

Chapter 29

"I need to be with them, Thorin!" he begged. "I need to be with my children!"

Thorin shook his head and held out his arm to keep him from following.

"Not now, Dain. First we need to see them out of danger and maybe then. Maybe."

Turning away from him, Thorin ignored the shouts and demands of those still standing to answer for what had happened. His personal guards marched their counterfeits off to the dungeon under Dwalin's watchful eye while Fili and Kili took charge of shepherding families back to their chambers and making arrangements for their swift departure. He spared one backward glance at the disarray in the Great Hall that had quickly become a makeshift infirmary. Healers from each of the clans treated their own, and the wails of the traumatized and groans of the wounded being bandaged intertwined to make a ghastly chorus of anguish. Those with more serious injuries had already been stretchered out.

Thorin pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. He had little patience with those whose tempers caused their own injuries and brought pain to their loved ones. Then he glanced up at Smaug's open mouth and, for a moment, he felt like he was looking into the past with those on the floor taking the places of those who had fallen long ago. Forcefully repressing the excitement of battle nerves, he clenched his jaw and looked up on the dais. There he saw the body of a most ordinary yet deadly dwarf.

Zozer lay sprawled on the floor, forgotten by all in the tumult. His infamous career had come to an abrupt end, and no one paid him any mind as if history had closed that chapter, never to turn back a page. Thorin closed his eyes briefly and swallowed the bile that rose at the image of Zozer dragging his knife along Relianna's white throat. Then he felt a wetness in his beard, and he unthinkingly wiped his cheek, leaving a smear of her blood to mingle with his own. He came back to the present when Dain's loud voice boomed in his ears.

"I won't wait outside like some lackey while my children fight for their lives!" he argued.

He gripped Thorin's shoulder hard, and the two lords and cousins set their jaws and faced each other. Thankfully, Thorin was spared from answering when a group of dwarf lords demanded to speak to Dain. Leaving him to answer for his own behavior, Thorin knocked his arm away and turned on his heel, and everyone heard the pounds of his steps as he ran to his love. Eyes followed him until he turned the corner and then swung back to Dain.

"What's this about the lass and her brother being your children?" voices challenged. "How is that possible?"

Onkra emerged from her place in the alcove where she had waited like a snake in its hole. A collective snort of disgust didn't stop her thick-lipped sneer as she eyed the dwarf lords in their various states of disarray.

"How indeed," she said maliciously, and she grinned at their finery that was splashed with blood or slit from the flash of daggers. "Why don't you tell them, father? It's a most amusing story."

Thorin headed on, his mind now filled with Relianna. The sight of her warm blood spilling between his fingers and her eyes going blank filled him with terror. He had fought hard to find and keep her, yet death kept threatening to extinguish her flame like fingers on the wick. How often he had seen animals brought in from the hunt with their eyes dulled like clouded glass? He clenched his fists and felt her clotting blood slick between his fingers.

Turning down the hall, he saw Balin deep in conversation with a dwarf lord, and he bared his teeth while slowing his approach. Balin spoke animatedly with the only dwarf Thorin could ill afford to alienate. Lord Kerba, father of Lady Carba, sat on the largest deposits of coal in that part of Middle-earth. Erebor was rich in minerals and gemstones, but forges need fuel, and that fuel came from Lord Kerba. His settlements lay in the low hills due south of the Withered Heath between Erebor and the Iron Hills. Thorin knew him from many years ago, and his grandfather's old trading partner was only too pleased to resume shipments to Erebor when the Durins returned. After hearing Thorin's heavy footfalls, Lord Kerba put his hand on Balin's arm to stop their conversation and turned to meet him. His daughter stood apart, still writing in her little journal book.

Lord Kerba was well-known for having both a shrewd head for business and a number of eccentricities. He fancied himself a scholar and spent too much time in the opinion of some studying science, history, and philosophy. He had written books on any number of subjects ranging from the classifications of animals to why elves deserved to have eternal life revoked. Most dwarf kingdoms had that particular book on file. Despite his wealth, he preferred to live simply and wear the colors of his trade. For Thorin's announcement, he wore charcoal gray with only a thin band of mithril embroidery around the top of his collar to hint at his status. His long, gray hair was simply plaited into a single braid that fell down his back, and his rather gaunt face carried pinch spectacles on his long nose. Bright and inquisitive black eyes now peered over the rims of round lenses at Thorin's dark expression. He was one of the few who escaped unscathed.

"Thorin, a word, if you please," he called out. His face was impassive, and Thorin was too upset to divine hidden meaning. Feeling frustrated at being apart from Relianna for even a minute, he wasn't about to let anyone hold him up now.

"I've no time for this!" he growled in reply while striding toward them. Angry that Balin allowed anyone this close to the door, he was about to demand that Lord Kerba step aside when the very same grabbed his arm with a firm and steady grip.

"Thorin," Balin said hurriedly, "you need to hear him out."

Now furious, Thorin wrenched his arm away and glared at Balin who dropped his eyes to the ground. How could Balin even entertain the notion that he'd be willing to stop and argue his choice while Relianna lay injured and possibly worse? He shuddered slightly at the thought and reminded himself of Oin's words. His brows drew together like the wings of a hawk in flight.

"I need do nothing but see to Relianna and her brother," he snapped while staring at Lord Kerba who kept his calm. Lady Carba made a few last notes before quietly stepping in next to her father.

"And you will, Thorin," Lord Kerba replied neutrally, "but someone needs to see to your other guests before they unite against you, and that can't be anyone from Erebor.

Thorin pushed his chest out, and the two lords stood toe to toe. His fists clenched and unclenched while Lord Kerba looked on indulgently and with a glimmer of affection that Thorin missed in his barely contained rage.

"Are you saying you will, Kerba?" he demanded, determined to deal with him quickly.

The older dwarf took in Thorin's clenched fists and tense posture with a mild expression. He was nearly as old as Balin but had kept trimmer than most other lords his age with regular exercise and a diet full of fruits and vegetables as well as the dwarves' usual fare. His peers clucked and shook their heads at his strange ways. Gossip had him running up and down his small hills with sacks of coal on his back, but Thorin had no doubt of his skill with a blade, although Kerba preferred a quill with a sharp nib and a long roll of parchment.

"Do you love her?" he asked suddenly. He tilted his head like he was examining an interesting specimen of insect. "Do you? Enough to stand alone?"

Thorin felt hot blood rushing to his face, and one hand flew instinctively to his dagger. How dare he ask such things! He opened his mouth to call guards to throw him out, come what may, when Lady Carba stepped up to eye him as well.

"He does, father," she said, answering what he wouldn't. "He's flushed, and his breath rate increased substantially. Did you notice too how he almost drew on you?"

Lord Kerba looked down at his daughter proudly.

"Aye, Carba," he replied with a fond smile, "but that could be because he's angry at my presumption." Then he led her gaze higher. "But notice that his pupils are dilated." Both father and daughter leaned in with owlish stares while Thorin stood snorting like a bull.

"Lord Kerba," he said between clenched teeth, "you will step away from …."

"See that, Carba," her father said without any indication that he heard. He waved two fingers in front of Thorin's eyes. "Never fails."

Then he took a step back with his hands up and looked on Thorin with open approval.

"And she obviously loves you to risk her neck like that," he observed. "Very good, very good, indeed. So she's Dain's daughter, is she? He has much to answer for then. With Tamra the court healer, I'll be bound, rest her soul. Lovely lass, if I recall, and her child takes after her save Dain's eyes and hair color. Their son looks more like her though. Handsome lad."

Thorin piercing eyes flashed to Balin whose look encouraged him to hold his tongue.

"He took no part in the fighting, Thorin," Balin said quickly. "Instead, he helped get the women out as well as those who were wounded. Dwalin and I both saw him do this."

Lord Kerba rolled his eyes and waved one hand to dismiss his peers like a bad smell.

"Aye, and if only more had sense in their heads, well, what's done is done."

Thorin still eyed him suspiciously even though Lord Kerba had always been an honest trading partner and scrupulously honorable dwarf. Still, the slim chance of an ally was enough for him to spare another moment—just one. His allowed his shoulders to drop slightly and let his hands fall to his sides.

Relianna will be that much safer if he approves of my decision.

"Where do you stand with my choice then?" he asked with a defiant lift of his chin.

Lord Kerba squeezed his daughter's hand. His demeanor changed with a sigh, and his shoulders sagged. Lady Carba reached for his arm and pulled herself into his embrace.

"I'd give away all my wealth if only I had my Renna back with me, Thorin," he said soberly. "If you love the lass truly, then we both wish you well, and I'll help you with the uzbads." His mouth twisted with obvious distaste for the word. "Quarreling old goats."

Thorin was so surprised that he stood unspeaking until Lord Kerba bumped him with his arm.

"Now off to your lady," he said with a grim nod. "She needs you."

But Lady Carba stepped up to him before he could, and she dropped a curtsy.

"I'd like to help in the infirmary, if I may," she offered. She flipped back a number of pages in her journal and tapped the print with the feather end of her quill. "Lady Nella showed me around, and I learned enough to be of assistance." Then she bobbed her head at her father and waited for his unspoken permission before she finished her thought. Lord Kerba smiled and dipped his head in return.

"And if it isn't too much, my lord," she said gamely as she turned back to Thorin, "please tell your intended that I look forward to making her acquaintance when she's recovered."

Thorin was shocked but moved at their support.

"Her name is Relianna," he replied proudly, "and she'll be delighted."

Then Balin ushered Lady Carba inside, and Lord Kerba turned to go.

"Give her my regards as well, Thorin," he said over his shoulder as he headed down the hall.

Thorin entered and took in a scene that looked more like the aftermath of a battle than a social occasion. He gritted his teeth, noting ironically that most injuries were caused by the reaction to his announcement rather than by the work of an infamous assassin and band of thugs. A number of stretchers had healers bustling around them, and the sharp smell of witch hazel and scents of medicinal herbs and salves were thick on the air. Bemma and a group of maids tore strips of linen and rolled them in small bundles while other servants boiled bottles and scrubbed table tops.

One, two, three, four ...

Thorin counted nine lords lying on stretchers and more sitting up getting their wounds dressed. Golden lanterns hung by every stretcher and cot so healers with their needles and thread could see clearly. One lord with only a scrape on one cheek was sitting in tatters, his robes slashed like someone attacked him with scissors and one side of his mustache cut away. Those who noticed the King of Erebor in their midst muttered under their breath and looked away. Looking over the room with a haughty and unyielding stance, Thorin spied Lord Meldin from Ered Luin. The red-haired lord looked up from across the room and saw his king standing there. Thorin raised his brows, and Lord Meldin looked around the room slowly before meeting his imperious scowl. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he slid his eyes right and left at his fellow lords before wagging his brows ever so slightly. Thorin inclined his head in return.

Another ally. Good.

Then he headed back to the section where Relianna was likely to be. He got to the door only to have Nella bar him from entering. She closed it behind her.

"You must wash the blood off your hands first, my lord," she said firmly. He opened his mouth to order her to stand aside.

"It's to prevent infection from setting in," she added quickly. "There are cakes of lye soap over there," and she nodded toward two copper basins. "Please and hurry."

He nodded shortly and hastened to the nearest water basin. He made to turn on the faucet but flinched at the sight of Relianna's blood almost completely crusting his hands. Grabbing a small, white towel, he used it to turn the knob.

"And under the nails," Nella called out before she disappeared.

Starting with his forearms, he scrubbed thoroughly before moving down to his hands. The cake of soap turned brownish-red and then pink as he continued washing. Small flecks of dried blood hit the sides of the copper basin, softening into rivulets. Lady Carba washed the ink stains off her fingers at the next basin.

"My thanks, my lady," he said while concentrating on the skin around his nails. "I won't forget your generosity."

He looked over quickly to see her smile. She clearly wasn't disappointed that he didn't choose her, but then again, she had spent their time together quizzing him on business and social matters. Her father was a puzzle to most other dwarves, and it appeared that she took after him in that regard.

"You aren't upset by my announcement," he ventured while he rushed to clean under his nails.

"Not at all," she replied quickly. "You see, what I really want is to be a scribe."

That was surprising news, and his face must have shown it. For an eligible noble-born to aspire to a profession firmly in the realm of dwarrows was unusual and sure to be frowned on. Kerba must be encouraging it though, and he felt a sudden glow of kinship to the odd pair.

"Oh, I know it isn't done, my lord," she said after seeing his initial surprise, "and that many will be outraged or think me foolish not to want to marry right away, but there is so much to learn and I hoped, I hoped that perhaps I could stay for a time and, and …."

She trailed off, but he understood what she was asking, and he thought it a perfect way for Relianna to find a friend—as long as they didn't spend too much time in the library, that is.

"Erebor's library is yours to use," he said quickly. "Ori will show you around."

She nodded expectantly.

"I've already met him, my lord," she replied, meeting his sidelong glance.

"I see," he replied as blood-stained water curled down the drain. His esteem for her grew. She was following her heart, and her father both approved and found ways to encourage her. He no longer had any doubts about their motives, and he exhaled in relief that Erebor's prosperity was still secure. Both Relianna and Frain would find their company interesting, and he relaxed slightly knowing that she wouldn't be friendless among the clans. He believed that she'd be content enough in Erebor, but even a large kingdom could be lonely without friends elsewhere.

"You really need to have that looked at, my lord," she said with a tap on her own temple.

Then they heard raised voices down the hall, and Nella came out with a bowl filled with bloody towels.

"Oin needs your help, my lord," she said with a thrust of her head toward the door. She went into another room two doors down, and shouts sent her skittering out as if she'd been pushed. "They're not allowing us to treat them."

Thorin's eyes opened in shock, and he shook out his arms. His mouth pressed into a thin line of determination.

"Allow me, my lord," Lady Carba said holding up a towel, and she quickly dried his arms and hands, holding him off for a moment to dab at his temple.

"No notes," he ordered before heading into the first room.

Oin turned toward the door where he was trying to tell a struggling Relianna that she had to take the sleeping draught before he could stitch her. She was so frantic that she didn't even see Thorin when he came through the door and crouched beside the bed.

"No!" she cried. "Not until I see Frain! I need, I need to know he's alive. I need to know!"

Thorin took her hand, and she saw him then.

"He's alive, love, and down the hall," he said urgently while chafing her fingers, "but you must let Oin take care of you now."

Closing her eyes, she shook her head over and over.

"Not until, not until I see, not until I see him."

Oin met Thorin's open worry with his own concern.

"I must stitch her, Thorin," Oin said in a hushed tone after beckoning him outside the door, "but she's only let me check her to see if Zozer used poison on the blade."

"And?" Thorin asked fearfully.

Oin shook his head.

"Your moving up the date may have prevented that," Oin guessed. "Perhaps he'd no time to find something else to use."

Thorin nodded with relief and both looked toward the bed where Nella tried talking to her.

"I just saw your brother, and he's being taken care of," she said softly but to no avail. Relianna just shook her head over and over.

"And Frain?" Thorin asked while watching Nella try another tactic.

Oin rolled his eyes and bit his lip.

"He's acting the same," he grumbled, "but, to be honest, he worries me more."

Thorin looked over his shoulder to the room down the hall.

"How so?" he asked. "The mail shirt kept the blade from penetrating."

Oin shook his head and then lowered his voice even more. Thorin looked around to see a few taking too much of an interest in their conversation, and he pulled Oin into an empty room and shut the door.

"Aye," Oin replied, "we were lucky to find your old mitril shirt along with Dis'. I wish I knew more about his condition though. The bruise from the impact is large, but the one on his head when he fell is what worries me. I've never seen such bleeding in the skin. For all I know, the lad could be in worse shape. Maybe she has reason to be scared, poor lass. After all, he's nearly died a number of times if I remember her right. I'd hate to have him touch and go when we're almost in the clear."

"Do you have enough medicine left for him?"

Oin shook his head.

"I gave him the last of what I had after he fell backward," he replied.

Thorin walked out with Oin and called Lady Carba over. She put a jar of salve on the counter and patted the arm of the lord being bandaged. Another healer promptly took her place.

"How may I be of service, my lord?" she asked, clearly delighted to be useful.

"My lady," he replied, "Master Oin here needs a list of ingredients from the healer from the Iron Hills."

Her eyes grew round, and she pulled out her little ink pot and readied her quill. Oin was surprised to find her so prepared, but Thorin was grateful for her little quirks that at first unnerved him, and he blessed her willing heart.

"Do you know who he is, my lady?" Oin asked.

She shook her head but waved her hand at his attempt to explain.

"I can find out quickly enough on my own," she replied. "Father is likely with the uzbads now, and we'll take care of what you need. I'm guessing that you need them right away."

Thorin left them to compile the list and went to see Frain. He lay on a cot trying to remove heavy ice bags on his stomach, back, and against the back of his head. He was pale and in pain, Thorin could tell, but his sense of humor was intact if a bit sharp.

"Your healer, Nella, ambushed me with ice packs," he grumped while pushing them off. He tried to sit up, but Thorin could tell that the effort drained him.

"Frain, don't try," he said firmly. He tried to replace the packs, but Frain pushed his arm away.

"Don't treat me like a dwarfling, Thorin!" he snarled. He struggled to sit up but reeled. Putting one hand on his forehead, he breathed slowly before trying to swing his legs over the side.

"I told her I didn't want treatment until I was sure Reli was safe, but she blindsided me. Remind me not to get on her bad side."

Thorin watched in alarm at the effort it took for him to move. Relianna's wound was more frightening initially, but he saw now why she was so afraid for her brother.

"Don't Frain!" he ordered.

The younger dwarf looked up, his energy fading even as he tried to speak.

"I need to … see her, Thorin. Please."

He slumped over, and Thorin called for dwarves to move him quickly into Relianna's room.

"She'll be upset," Frain said through his pain.

His eyes looked sunken and exhausted, but Thorin refused to give way to fear now. They would make it; they would all see this through. He wasn't about to tell Relianna that her brother had died protecting her.

"No," he replied, "she needs to see you. It'll do you both good."

Frain nodded wearily and lay back on the cot. Thorin swung his legs back and repositioned the ice packs, and the dwarves carried the cot carefully down the hall.

"Frain!" Relianna cried out once she saw him beside her. She strained to reach him, and he didn't move to help her. "Did you hit your head? Did you hit your head?"

He mumbled his answer, and she moaned and whimpered. Tears sprang into her eyes, and her mouth quivered.

"Let them help you, Reli," he whispered. His eyes were glassy, and he spoke with effort. "Please, for me. I'm not going to die today."

Relianna quickly submitted to the draught and whatever else Oin wanted so Frain wouldn't fret. Oin stitched her as quickly as he could and patted Frain's shoulder when he was done. His eyes were slits, and his lips had lost their color.

"She's all set, my lord," Oin said looking down with a worried frown that Frain missed.

"Now you, brother," she softly, and she held out her hand.

She was tired and in pain, but even Thorin acknowledged that she would recover quickly. She was pale but not the stark white of her brother who held his stomach with weak hands and gagged. Nella brought a bucket that he nearly missed as he retched. Relianna looked on with anxious fear, and Thorin couldn't say anything to relieve it.

"I've sent for more medicine, Relianna," he said quietly. "We've none left, but Lady Carba left to get some, and she'll return soon."

They did everything they could in the meantime to make Frain comfortable. His wracking shivers made him sicker, so Oin ordered the ice bags removed and kept only a small one at the back of his head. Relianna fussed and fretted, but her voice grew drowsy as the sleeping draught that Oin gave her took effect. Thorin hushed her and promised that he'd stay with Frain until the medicine came. He stroked her face until she fell asleep.

Then he turned his back on her, and Oin stepped in close.

"Will he last until the medicine gets here?" Thorin asked softly.

"I hope so, Thorin," Oin replied, "but I don't know."

They heard a painful chuckle behind them, and they turned to see Frain grimacing on his cot and shivering from shock. Oin grabbed blankets from a chest and laid them over him, tucking them carefully around his back and under his legs.

"I can't, I can't tell you," he said between chattering teeth, "how many h-healers I've heard say that 'bout, 'bout me."

He opened his eyes as wide as he could, struggling to beat back the creeping chill waiting to take his life, and they saw the fighting spirit that his sister so admired in him.

"I'm not, I'm not going anywhere," he choked out, "not yet anyway."

Thorin kneeled down beside the cot and clasped hands with him. Frain's hand was cold and his grip weak. Thorin trapped Frain's hand with his other one and held on tightly.

"Right you are, cousin," he said strongly. "Zozer isn't killing anyone today. Not today. Not on my watch. Do you hear me? Besides, Relianna's expecting you to walk her down the aisle, and if you don't, she won't marry me, and I won't stand for that."

Frain's grip tightened, and Thorin saw a spark of amusement in his eye. He leaned closer, willing his strength into his failing cousin.

"Trying to m-make me feel g-guilty now?" Frain whispered. "Don't worry. I can't d-die 'cause if I do she'll k-kill me."

Thorin smiled tightly.

"Then let's keep you alive until helps come," he answered, refusing to accept any other outcome. "It won't be long."

Let's hope that Lady Carba hurries, but Onkra will still get her comeuppance. Now I have to do a jig back to my other story and hope that I have enough creative juice to pour on that one. Please review!