Chapter Twelve

"Ah, there's the wayward laddie."

Nÿr looked up to see a rough-looking old greybeard miner with a funny hat and sympathetic eyes. He smiled broadly and offered his hand to Fili when the cart bumped to a stop on the western terrace.

"Thank you for your help, my friend," she heard Fili addressing the oldtimer while a small support crew hustled Kili and Nÿr out of the cart and bundled them inside the western entry.

It was Nÿr's first experience with seeing how Erebor's dwarves jumped to serve their King, and she was impressed with how carefully they eased Kili, who did little except grimace in pain (and maybe embarrassment), onto a stretcher held by eight ready young dwarves.

Nÿr stayed with him, playing up her role as healer and cautioning everyone to take care with his knee.

Then the oldtimer was beside her, draping one warming fur over her shoulders and another one over their prince.

"Should I get some walnuts for you?" he asked Kili, his voice tinged with the kind of humor that told Nÿr they were old friends.

But she saw Kili roll his eyes, despite his discomfort. "Bofur, I swear I'd throw them at you," he growled.

The old miner just laughed. But Kili reached for him and the miner gripped his hand quickly in heartfelt farewell.

And then the King was beside them and everyone set off, arriving back at the royal apartment faster than Nÿr would have thought possible, taking a route that she didn't recall and couldn't have re-traced later.

The Queen, Lady An, met them just inside the King's great room. Quick re-introductions were made (having met at the party the night before), and Nÿr did not miss the little wink the King gave to his Lady Wife. Mahal.

And then Nÿr lent an arm to support Kili's left side as he got to his feet and Lady An was right there to take his other arm.

"I can walk," he said softly.

"Of course you can," An said. "But we'll just make sure you get to your bed without falling on your face."

Nÿr, of course, had never seen the royal quarters. She had never even known its location within the Mountain, and certainly she's never been inside a prince's private chamber.

It was quite smaller than she might have expected, both simpler and more richly appointed than people would have imagined. It held a small fireplace, small desk, and a bookcase, surprisingly well stocked. And it was not all stone and metals, either. Kili's rooms included beautiful wood panels and plush rugs. There were richly glowing blown-glass lamps, leather chairs, and the alcove bed was appointed with velvets and silks in deep jewel tones. The geometric pattern of his princely crest trimmed several square pillows. If anything, it downplayed his royal status.

He considered himself just a kid from Ered Luin, she recalled.

Fili followed them in.

"Wait," he said, before they could help his brother out of his gear. His hand raised and turned in a motion that Nÿr recognized as the disarm command used by a captain to a soldier.

Kili nodded and slowly his hands went to his belt and fumbled with the strap. After a moment, the belt was undone and he passed his sword to his brother.

Fili accepted it solemnly, taking it to a wall rack and stowing it.

The all-important male ritual complete, Lady An began divesting the gear from her brother-by-marriage with Nÿr assisting. They got him down to his skin again, and Lady An brought a thick robe to wrap around him.

In the meantime, Fili had laid out herbs and a warming pot on the top of a wooden chest. "I'll need boiling water," he said as they lay Kili in his bed. Lady An left Nÿr to plump the pillows and turned to the little hearth fire, swinging out an iron kettle that was in itself a work of art, unusually shaped and covered in a pine cone motif.

And Nÿr watched again as her King performed the little ritual where he steeped athelas and chanted…dispersing the heady scent into the room. He repeated the work three times, filling extra warming pots that Lady An bundled into cozies and set aside to steep.

"We'll use these later when this one cools," Lady An explained in a murmur.

"Is this something I could learn to do?" Nÿr asked quietly.

Lady An smiled kindly but shook her head, stowing the last pot inside a warming box. "The hands of the King are the Hands of a Healer," she said. "Old saying, but true in this case." She looked over her shoulder at her husband. "But don't be fooled. It's the only healing spell he knows, and he only uses it for this."

"Elrond of Rivendell," Fili added, using a towel to dry his hands. "Showed it to me years ago when we talked to him about my brother's orc wound. Took me a week of practice to learn it," he said. "I couldn't make it work in the Elvish," he smiled sadly as if recalling. "But once we translated it to ancient dwarvish I had it down."

"So it's not just the herb?"

"No." An said. "It's the herb plus the spell."

"And the Mountain," Fili added. "It's always a stronger cure when we do it inside the Mountain."

Fili looked at his lady wife and Nÿr expected that he would be told to rest. But she was mistaken. Instead, he began issuing instructions.

"Keep the kids and Nÿr inside our rooms, An," he began. "Until this is over. Nÿr can help you keep an eye on him. And now I need a bath, my formal robes, and something quick to eat."

And then he was gone.

Lady An touched Nÿr's arm. "We have our orders," she winked, then her expression became more serious. "Anything you need, ask for Gafi or Dzin. They wear the green tunics. I'll send in food for you, broth for him. Let him sleep, but when he wakes, try to get him to drink some if you can. Once His Lordship is sent on his way," she spared Nÿr an affectionate grin, "I'll see that we give you a chance for a bath and I'll find you something fresh to wear." Lady An explained the three exits from the room, warned her to only use the one to the family quarters and to keep all of them locked.

And then she rushed out, leaving Nÿr alone with her patient.

Who lay gently snoring in his bed.

Fili received word that the ravens had emerged from their storm roosts as soon as he'd cleaned up. He sent a message to Lord Dwalin, and then he was back on the western terrace before mid-morning, this time in full court robes and playing the role of King Under the Mountain to the hilt.

He strode onto the terrace, seeing his first bit of sunlight on this icy cold Durin's Day. The wind was gone, having left a pristine blanket of snow behind.

The rescue cart and track had already been removed, and to the few visitors also on the terrace this morning, it was every bit the picturesque overlook with a stellar snow-covered view of the breathtaking valley below.

But Fili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain, wasn't there to look at the valley or the view. He looked to the clearing blue sky, holding up his royal hand in invitation.

He didn't have to wait long before a large, particularly glossy raven swooped in and landed on his upraised arm.

The bird fluffed and quorked in agitation.

"All right, all right," Fili crooned. "Just tell me."

Those watching only saw Erebor's King, dressed in rich Durin's Day finery, having quite a long conversation with the raven on his arm. He listened for a long time, nodding to the bird, and then held the fellow closer, speaking into the bird's ear.

And then he raised his arm, launching the large black corvid back into the sky.

None of them expected what came next. The raven circled, calling loudly. Other ravens joined it, circling as well and adding their voices to the urgent call and swooping quite aggressively.

Several high born ladies covered their heads with scarves and ducked inside, shocked and worried at the odd behavior.

But Fili stood straight and firm, his expression focused and jaw clenched as the bird gathering grew to represent quite a raucous flock. Soon there were hundreds of ravens flying in a discordant circle and the noise became deafening.

And then they became quiet, except for the sound of their wings beating on the wind, their circling speed increasing like a small black storm.

Fili called out to them then, issuing a roaring command in Khuzdul.

And then the flock tightened their formation and arrowed past the stone columns of the western terrace and shot like a feathery blast into the halls of the mountain.

And anyone close enough to the King to see his stony expression and ice-hard eyes stepped back.

The King Under the Mountain was on the hunt.

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A/N: The story continues! Thank you for reading along! If you are also following my other story, The Annuminas Project, a new (short) chapter was posted yesterday. The chapter alerts aren't working...hope this resolves soon. In the meantime, I will be re-posting the chapters for this story every Sunday AM (Pacific Time.) Hope you are doing well, and drop a review or just say Hi! Cheers! -Summer