Dain's about to get hammered.

Chapter 34

"Relianna is my daughter and, as the head of my family, it is for me to decide when and where she marries! You will come to me for her hand, and I will decide when you get it!"

Balin and Dwalin strained to hang on to Thorin while Kerba and Meldin combined their strength to hold back Dain. The two fought against their captors, shouting each other down. A voice caught them when they paused for a breath.

"How dare you!"

They turned to see Frain propping himself up in the doorway with one arm holding his middle. Wearing loose clothes and lying in bed under covers had concealed his gaunt physique, and the others looked on with alarm. "Frain," Thorin began, "you must …" but Frain dismissed him a slightest shake of his head. With great effort, he held himself erect and stared down his father who couldn't look away. The rest kept their places and watched the standoff between father and son. Frain's nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed with an anger that Thorin didn't think him capable of, but then he remembered why Relianna called him Bear.

"How dare you make decisions for us? I alone am responsible for Relianna, and I gave Thorin my permission to marry her, and it stands. You have nothing to say about it, nothing!"

Dain flinched at the sight of his much taller son, who looked down on him with such disdain. This was not the introduction he hoped for, and he threw Thorin a bitter glance for interfering with what should have been a time of healing. That he started the argument and refused to see the true state of affairs didn't find a foothold in his mind. Clouded by guilt from his past and despair for his future, Dain clung to any bit of hope, not realizing that he was choking it to death. Yet even in his distress, he took a moment to thrill that the son he and Tamra had made stood before him.

My son, our son.

Of course, Frain was unaware of his thoughts and wouldn't have cared if he had expressed them. His striking eyes, so like his mother's, held a contempt that Dain never saw in hers. Tamra was always gentle and patient, and they never had a cross word. Such fury coming from her eyes shocked him, and he wondered then if she had ever felt like that but chose not to tell him.

"My son," he said. His words stumbled out as he tried to reset the scene. "I was only …."

"Don't call me son as if you know me, my lord," Frain said. He lowered his chin and glared at the shorter dwarf. "My name is Frain Tamrin Durin, adopted son of Durin's folk. Relianna and I are more Thorin's kin than yours at the moment, thanks to Aunt Relia. She had the courage and foresight to claim us as family, something you wouldn't have done even if you knew about us. So as it happens, Lord Dain, even Thorin has more right to make decisions where Relianna is concerned than you."

The King of Erebor couldn't help a satisfied twitch in the corner of his mouth, and he yanked his arms away from his keepers. Kerba and Meldin dropped Dain's, although they thought that the reeling Lord of the Iron Hills might need their assistance again if his knees didn't hold him up. His mouth wobbled at his son's words, and his eyes slid to Thorin who didn't hide what he thought. Not wanting to add to the tension, Kerba and Meldin tried to keep their expressions neutral, but the brothers Fundin stepped beside their king with matching expressions of disapproval. Dain reached out a shaking hand to his son.

"Have I no place in your life, Frain? In Relianna's?"

"In the trollop's life, you mean?" Frain asked. Dain moaned and closed his eyes. "The wench's? Thorin told you who she was, and he also said what would happen if you refused to believe him. Did you think we'd greet you with open arms after such an insult? After you indulged Onkra, never caring to curb her cruelty? Did you know that she whipped Relianna regularly?" Dain stifled a cry. "And now with such pompous interference? Not to mention the cowardly way you abandoned our mother. Are you that blind and stupid?"

Frain's words cut Dain with the force of Onkra's whip. The truth bit deep into his heart, and he stumbled to a table and fell in a chair, putting his head in his hands. Tears flowed from under his palms and dripped on the table, and his sobs grew loud enough to make his stunned onlookers shift with discomfort. As tender-hearted as his mother, Frain was unhappy to say what he did, but his father deserved every word, and he had no regrets. However, it took every bit of strength he had, and he knew that he wouldn't be standing for much longer.

"Forgive me, forgive me," Dain said with his head down. "I am blind and stupid. I was then, and I've learned nothing since. I killed your love as surely as I killed Tamra. What a life, what misery I sentenced you and your family to. I failed you both in a way that can never be forgiven, and I will leave by first light and never trouble you again."

An audible exhale expressed the surprise of those who wondered if he would accept the consequences of what he had done, and no one knew what to say. However, Frain, ever the healer, was the first to find compassion and a measure of forgiveness in his heart. He gripped his middle tighter and spoke through almost blue lips.

"My lord," he said, "you've much to atone for, but you are my father and that mother loved you so deeply tells me you're more than what we've seen. She wouldn't want us to be enemies." Dain lifted his head in pathetic gratitude, his naked longing an embarrassment to the others. "If you give us time, we might find our way to some sort of relationship, but I make no promises." Dain sniffled and nodded, too afraid to speak and break their fragile truce.

Now that an uneasy peace had been brokered, Thorin looked around for Relianna. "Where is she?" He was sure that she must have heard every word. "Where is she?" Before Frain could answer, he clutched his stomach, squeezed his eyes shut, and pitched forward with a cry. Lord Kerba and Thorin caught him before he hit the floor.

"Oin!" Thorin shouted. "Nella!" Both came running. "Get him inside quick." Together with Balin and Dwalin, Thorin and Kerba almost carried Frain back into his room. "I'll start on the medicine," Meldin said. Dain watched their practiced efficiency with confusion. Everyone knew what to do, showing that they had done this many times before. "I have the water," Balin said. He gave it to Oin who measured the precise amount while Kerba and Meldin ground the herbs. Meanwhile, Thorin took compresses from Nella and hastened to Frain's side where he drew up a chair and placed supplies around him. Dain watched Thorin's ministrations from the door and saw that all had been trained to deal with the situation. Despite his grievous shortcomings, Dain was a battle-hardened warrior and realized that whatever was wrong with his son wasn't from any wound.

Thorin pulled up Frain's tunic, and Dain gaped at the large yellow-green bruise that covered the better part of his stomach. Putting his fingers to his mouth and chewing on his thumbnail, he watched Thorin slather on a pungent cream.

"Can you hear me, Frain?" Thorin asked. "I'm going to turn your head and lift your hair for the compress. It might sting a little, but it's been packed with a cooling agent. Your medicine is almost ready, and we're adding a pain killer." Frain began to sweat, and Thorin took a pair of scissors and cut his fine tunic down the middle. "Ice pack, Oin," but Dwalin was already at the door.

"All ready," he said. He handed it to Thorin who laid a cloth on Frain's stomach before applying the pack. "Frain, are you with me?" His cousin moved his head a fraction. "Your medicine is coming. We'll help you lift your head, but you must drink it all. It'll be the large glass this time. Are you ready?" Frain pursed his lips in response.

Kerba brought in the glass. "Oin and Nella are mixing more just in case, and we'll help you with this." Lord Meldin came in and nodded to Thorin. Slipping around him, they stood at the head of the bed.

"Meldin's going to push your pillows down to support you, lad, while I lift you up by your shoulders," Kerba said. "Remember? Like before." Frain's head bobbed forward, and Thorin grabbed the bucket. Dain looked with horror on his son retching.

"Easy, Frain," Thorin said. "Easy now." His cousin was breathing hard and kept his eyes closed, but he managed to nod.

"Your bedside manner needs work," he said, his voice a raspy whisper. Thorin and the others chuckled, their eyes bright with amusement and admiration.

"That's our lad," Kerba said. "Ever the fighter." Dain watched with envy the others' easy way with his son, and it grated that his was reduced to bystander, but he would bear anything to have some kind, any kind of relationship with his son and daughter.

"Here," Oin said. He handed Thorin the glass and stepped into the room. "I need to see how much he gets down. We have more ready in case he vomits this up too. How much came up this time?" Dain gasped at the implication. "Too much," Thorin said. He shook his head, rueful that he didn't have anything better to report.

"Ah," Oin said, "not good. That's the first solid food he's had since that day." The others nodded. "Well, let's get this down and help him keep it down, and then he'll need to stay in bed until his color improves. I hate to see the setback." He lowered his voice so that only Thorin could hear. "I hope it was worth it."

Relianna and the maids headed off to gather supplies. They plumped pillows, folded plush towels, and aired linen and silk bedding. At Erebor, even something as inconsequential as linen closets were grand affairs with racks holding plush throws and bedding and thick towels arranged by color in drawers. Plumma pulled out the stopper of a crystal bottle of rose water and inhaled in rapture. Bottles and pots of fragrant shampoos, exotic lotions, and cosmetics sat on mirrored trays. In another section were colognes and hair oils for the dwarves.

"What are we doing with all this?" Plumma asked. She looked around and watched Bemma tick off a list of items to prepare. Tooth powder, hairbrush, lemon soap, honeysuckle perfume.

"We're taking them to her hideout," Bemma said. Looking around her, she spied a basket and scratched it off her list. It contained baked goods, jams, and butter. The maids stopped what they were doing and stared at Relianna's back. Not hearing any sound, she turned around to face her friends.

"You're not coming with us?" a maid named Derlig asked. "We'd help you, you know we would." Putting some towels aside, Relianna put her hand on her friend's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "That's dear of you," she said, "but I need some time alone—totally alone—for a few days."

"Where are you going then?" Derlig asked.

Relianna took a deep breath. "The one place they'd never think to look, but you'll need to go to several different locations to confuse them." "Them?" a blond maid named Clea asked. "Who's them?" Bemma looked down at the ground, and Plumma gave her future queen a sharp look.

"You're not planning on hiding from King Thorin, are you? Reli? You're going to tell him, aren't you?" Uncomfortable with all eyes on her, Relianna hesitated before she shook her head and braced herself for their collective gasp.

"Relianna!" Derlig said. "That's not fair. You need to tell him."

"She's right," Plumma added. "How would you feel if the situation was reversed?"

Relianna paused. She wasn't willing to surrender her much-needed solitude, but there had to be a way to steal away without hurting Thorin. "I'll write a letter telling him what I'm doing."

Her friends murmured their disagreement. "That won't be enough, if we read him right," Derlig said. "He's pretty protective and won't like you running around Erebor after what happened."

Staring at her frowning friends, Relianna felt like she was speaking a different language. Even with them, she felt hemmed in and desperate to escape. The pressure of her past and present was almost more than she could bear.

"Please," she said, "just a few days. Help me for just a few days." Tears welled in her eyes, and she swept them off her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "I need you to do this. Bemma?" Her best friend sighed. She agreed with the others, but she understood Relianna's situation better than most.

"I'm not happy either, to be honest, but after what you've been through, I can't blame you. Does Frain know where you're going? Good."

"Frain, is it?" asked Furla, a black-haired maid with freckles on her nose. Her voice was smooth and cool, but her expression said something else, and a mischievous light danced in her eyes. "When did you get so chummy with the prince?" Bemma flushed but met her head on.

"He asked me to call him that since he's not sure he wants to be a prince," she said. "Lord Dain's been, uh, persistent." She didn't giggle, smirk, or hint at anything beyond simple courtesy, and Furla returned to her task with a shrug. "True enough from what we've heard," Clea said. "Quite a pest he's made of himself."

While the others readied their distractions, Relianna wrote out her thoughts and reassurances, biting down on the bare tip of her quill from time to time. Bemma looked over her shoulder and read her first few sentences.

"That's not going to do it, you know. He'll search for you. Frain might be able to hold him off for a day at best. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Do I want to? No. Do I need to? Yes." Bemma motioned with her arms, and she stood for a tight hug.

"We understand, and we won't betray you, but don't forget how hard he fought for you."

"I know, Bem," Relianna said. "I know, and this hurts me too, but I want to come to him without my past clouding our future. I want to be sure of myself, so we can move on with our lives."

Talking and laughing with each other, Relianna and her closest friends set off for the residential wing. Others went to the maids' quarters, and still others made their way to the various rooms where the noble families had stayed before heading off to remote and unused quarters. Approaching the guards at the royal wing with practiced confidence, Plumma and Derlig swung their hips and leaned over, pretending to adjust their burdens. Relianna hid among the rest.

"What are you lasses doing here?" a burly dwarf asked. "No one is allowed admittance except by order of the royal family or high advisors."

"Of course," Derlig said. "We were ordered to clean and air out the residential wing." Plumma hefted her stack of towels as evidence. "Everything is supposed to be perfect for the wedding."

The maids made appreciative noises and sidled up to the weapon-laden dwarves. "You must be very strong and brave to protect the royal family," Derlig said to one. Her tone was seductive, and he preened at her attention. "Do all of you have such hard muscles?"

"Oh, my," Bemma said, and she ran her hand up another guard's arm. He flexed his bicep, and she pretended to swoon. "You must beat them off with a stick."

The dwarves smirked at one another and laughed. "It is hard work and a privilege to have this duty." "Aye, lass, only the bravest and strongest get these positions."

"Really?" Furla asked. "How were you chosen? I'm sure the story's fascinating."

While the dwarves waxed long of their exploits to Derlig and Furla, the other maids walked past with their various bundles after being waved in.

"I don't like doing this to the Durins," Clea said in a whisper. "They've been good to us."

"I know," Bemma said, "but one of those looking will be Lord Dain."

"Good enough for me," Plumma said. "I'd leave bread crumbs all over Erebor to keep him away from Reli."

"I don't know, Thorin," Oin said while trying to avoid his king's angry face. Now that Frain was resting, Thorin's attention turned again to his sister. "There's been so much going on. Perhaps she needed some air."

"Perhaps? No, she wouldn't leave him. I know she wouldn't." Now he thought himself a fool for being distracted. He should have known; he should have known that something was wrong when she wasn't with her brother. What if someone else wanted her dead?

Pacing in front of Frain, Thorin stopped and spun to Dwalin and Balin. "Have you heard of any threats against her?" They shook their heads.

"None. All's quiet."

Their king nodded with his fist against his nose and mouth to stem his burgeoning fear. "I want the guards alerted and a thorough search made. No one sleeps until she's found." Lord Kerba pursed his lips and looked down at Frain who took that moment to yawn and close his eyes, but he wasn't fooled.

"I don't think that's necessary," he said with a nod at the pale prince. "You know where she is, lad, so don't pretend otherwise." No one spoke, and he blinked to see all eyes on him. Thorin stared down at him like an owl, his eyes wide and fixed on his face. Usually, Frain would think up a quip to relieve the pressure, but he was too weary and Thorin looked too pained for him to bother.

"Relax, Thorin, she's not in any danger," he said in a weak voice. "She needed some peace, and she hasn't gotten that here for sure."

Thorin made plans to call out Erebor's entire army to find her, but Frain held up his hand. "Leave her be," he said. "She'll return soon enough. Don't fret. She needs to do this."

"I don't understand," Thorin said, his voice betraying what he felt. "She could have come to me. She could have .…"

A knock on the open door interrupted him. "My lords," said a maid with a curtsy. Turning to Thorin, she held out a small roll of parchment.

"For you, my lord."

So how did Frain do? Was it enough? And who hasn't needed to be alone from time to time? What will Thorin do? What do you want him to do? Too many questions? Please review with some thoughts and answers!