Chapter 54

The Iron Hills: Survival

Thorin didn't remember running. He only knew that he needed to get to Kate and his legs made sure that this happened. He didn't look back to ensure that Dwalin was behind him. Where else would he be?

He came upon a scene that could have been pulled out of one of his worst nightmares. Kate stood, Excalibur in hand, bleeding from a wound he could not see, facing an orc almost twice as tall as she was. She staggered under the impact of a blow, but she remained in place, keeping herself between the orc and the lads, who cowered in the opening of the tent.

He didn't waste any time seeing how that fight turned out. He ran to intervene even as Kate employed one of her dirtiest tricks and kicked her opponent in the balls. The orc doubled over, perfectly timed so that Thorin could behead him with Orcrist in a single blow.

'Ah, good,' Kate said as her eyes settled on him. 'You're here.' The sword dropped from her fingers, her eyelids fell and she dropped.

Thorin caught her just in time. Blood trickled over his fingers where he held her. 'Dwalin, fetch a healer!' he bellowed.

Dwalin only paused to kill an orc that was rolling around on the ground, clawing at the burns on his face. Another dead orc nearby looked like it had died when someone ran him through. Three. Three of those foul monsters had come here. And Kate had been forced to fight them on her own.

'Amad! Amad! I want amad!'

Thorin turned to the opening of the tent, where his sons still were. Thoren held on to Thráin, who had gone wild with terror, sobbing and screaming and thrashing in his brother's precarious grip. Thoren wasn't much better off, but somehow his terror was the worse for being so contained. He was shaking on his legs, holding on to his little brother for dear life. The tears trickling down his cheeks were unaccompanied by loud sobs. The bigger brother, protecting the smaller.

Thorin knew exactly what that was like.

Kate's screams had brought the guards running, albeit too late. The only good thing they brought along was that the healers came trailing in their wake, Thora among them. Thorin did not much like her, but she was competent, which was all he needed of her.

She crouched down beside him. 'We've got her,' she said. 'See to your sons.'

It went against the grain to leave Kate as she was, but Thora was right; there was nothing he could do for her now. He was a father also and his sons needed him.

He inclined his head. 'Look after her.'

'I will.'

It would have to be good enough. He let go. His hands were stained with Kate's blood.

'Here, hold them out.' Fíli knelt down beside him with a skin of water. 'Best not let the lads see the blood.'

They had seen more blood than they should have this night already, but he would sooner not comfort them with their mother's blood clinging to him. So he did as he was told and let Fíli wash it off.

It did not make him feel any cleaner.

Bofur had taken on the lads while Thorin cleaned up, but it had done little good. Thráin was beyond being consoled, and Thoren not far behind. He was hanging on by a thread. All Thorin had to do was hold out his arms for his eldest to run straight into them. He pulled Thráin behind him.

Maker, help us.

For a long while he could only sit there before the tent, holding his sons as they clung to him like the world was about to end. Thoren's silent weeping had made way for howling sobs and Thráin was still beyond all reason.

'It is over,' Thorin promised them, because it was. 'It is over now.'

He did not tell them that all was well. It was not true and they would not have believed him if he told them so.

At long last Thráin's sobs quieted into tired snuffles. He had his arms around Thorin's neck, his head hidden against his coat. 'I want amad,' he kept repeating.

'Aye, lad, I know.'

'Is amad going to die?' Thoren asked.

'I do not know.' If he could not be reassuring, he could at least be honest.

He only remembered that there had been a lot of blood. In this poor light he had been unable to tell exactly what wound had caused it, where it was located or how deep it was. All he knew was that Kate had worn nothing but her shift; any blade could cut through that with ease.

They waited in silence, except for Thráin's occasional whimper.

Eventually Thora reappeared. 'She'll live,' she announced without preamble. 'She's lost a lot of blood, but she'll recover.'

It was a good thing he was already on his knees, because the relief those words caused made his limbs feel weak. 'May we see her?'

Thora considered them for a moment, then nodded. 'You may see her,' she replied carefully. 'But take care not to touch the wounds.'

'How serious?' Thorin demanded.

'Slash across her ribcage, torn muscle in her right arm and a wound on the back of her head,' Thora rattled off. 'The first is responsible for the blood loss. The last might have given her a concussion, but we'll know more when she wakes.'

Which meant that she had not done so yet.

Thora took Thoren's hand so Thorin could rise to his feet. Thráin had wrapped every available limb around him already with no intention of letting go. Thorin hoped he would soon be so exhausted that he would fall asleep and find some relief that way. Nothing Thorin said would avail him any. Time might heal some, but that cheerful surety that all was well with the world was gone.

They followed Thora to a tent a little ways away. There were healers flitting in and out, but they stood aside unbidden to let Thorin pass. Some bowed and nodded.

He took very little notice.

Kate had been laid down near the back, away from the busyness. They had removed the bloodstained shift and replaced it with a clean one that was made for someone wider than she was. She looked small and fragile in it.

The blood had been washed away and the shift hid the bandages, but Thorin would never mistake her for being merely asleep. She was too still, too pale. He had seen her hurt before – would that he could forget – but not like this.

Maker be good.

How close had he come to losing her?

'Carefully now, Thoren,' Thora said. 'Your ma has been badly hurt. Here, you can hold her hand if you want.'

Thoren sat down and did as he was told. He didn't say anything. He never looked much like Kate, but with both of them so pale and solemn, no one could ever mistake him for being anyone but her son.

Thráin finally wriggled loose and demanded to go to Kate, so Thorin sat down on her other side and let Thráin take her other hand. This wasn't enough; Thráin clearly wanted to hurl himself at her as he so often did, and Thorin restraining him from going to her was very far from appreciated.

'Amad, wake up!' he said, over and over again.

Kate didn't hear him.

'Amad, wake up! Wake up!'

It was a long way back to the waking world, but the voice of her son was relentless. It wouldn't be the first time he tried to wake her up hours before sunrise just because he was already awake and ready to start his day.

'Five more minutes, dearie,' she muttered.

She was still so very tired, a weariness that went right down to the bone. And she ached in places that she had no reason to ache. What had she been doing? Kate searched her memory, but it was frustratingly foggy. She recalled leaving Erebor, setting out for the Iron Hills. Beyond that, she couldn't seem to reach. Had she fallen off her pony?

'Amad!' Thráin's voice increased in volume. Apparently he was holding one of her hands, because he tugged on it.

Spikes of pure agony shot up her arm and she cried out. The pain was blinding. It left her gasping for air.

The pain unlocked the memories she couldn't reach before. The nighttime attack, the three orcs, the desperate fight to keep those monsters away from her children… Wakefulness returned along with the memory.

Her eyes shot open.

Thráin was the first one she saw and Thorin after. He had a fight on his hands trying to stop Thráin from throwing himself on her as he liked to do when he wanted to be comforted. Kate remembered the extent of her injuries and knew why he couldn't.

'Kate,' he said, the relief evident in his voice and face.

'Did I get them?' she asked. She recalled that Thorin had killed the last, but she wasn't sure if she had finished the other two. Severely hurt, yes, but orcs were notoriously hard to kill.

He nodded solemnly. 'You killed the one you ran through. Dwalin despatched the one you pushed into the fire. The lads were not injured.'

He didn't say unharmed. Kate knew what he meant by that. She saw the evidence with her own eyes when she looked to her other side and found Thoren there. Her eldest was pale, with tears still trickling down his cheeks. He tried to put a brave face on it, but his bottom lip was suspiciously wobbly. Thráin might perhaps forget in time, but she doubted Thoren would be as lucky.

'How about a cuddle then?' she asked. He was sitting on her mostly good side. 'Gently, now.'

She didn't have to tell him twice. He lay down beside her and rested his head on her shoulder. Kate draped her right arm over him, trying very hard not to wince. Soothing her lads was more important than her personal comfort.

Speaking of which, she held out her other hand to Thráin. 'Are you coming too, darling? Can you do it gently?'

He was already on the way before the last word had left her mouth. Kate had to direct him to hold her around her waist, so that he avoided the worst of the injury.

Last of all she looked at her husband and that was the hardest thing about this. Thoren's anxiety and Thráin's panic she could soothe. She had done it a hundred times before. The circumstances were much graver now than they were before, but the general principle was the same.

With Thorin it was different.

Kate had met him when she knew he could die. She had lived with that, indeed did still live with it. Any campaign against raiding orcs could theoretically be his last. It was a horrible thought, one she tried not to think about too much. But it was always clearly understood that this was how things were: him frequently in danger and her worrying about it. The roles were never meant to be reversed.

It had visibly shaken him to the core. There was a look in his eyes that she could read easily, but that was heartbreaking to behold for long.

She did it anyway.

She reached out with her left hand, which he took. 'I'm alive,' she said softly. Wretched though she felt, if it was life-threatening, she would likely have felt much worse.

'Aye,' he said. 'Had I been later…'

'But you weren't.' Kate had played the what-if game more than most people. The only lesson she had taken away from that was that such a game certainly kept one's mind running in endless circles, but wasn't a great deal of use in day-to-day life. 'You came when I needed you.'

He inclined his head, but said nothing. Kate knew how good he was at self-blame, so she squeezed his hand, offering the only kind of comfort she could. Some conversations didn't need any words.

The practicalities did. 'We'll return to Erebor,' Thorin said eventually. The boys had finally fallen asleep. Even in slumber Thráin clung to her as if she could be torn away if he did not hold her tight enough. 'You are too hurt to continue.'

Kate took inventory of her injuries. There was the wound on her ribcage. It felt as if someone was holding a flame to her skin there, and it was worse every time she inhaled. It couldn't be very deep, though. Only the tip of the sword nicked her. Her arms felt as if someone had tried to beat them from their sockets, but they didn't feel broken. The dull pounding from the back of her head suggested that she had hit her head a little harder than she'd initially thought when she fell, but her thoughts were too clear for a concussion, surely.

She took a deep breath. 'Dáin will take that as a slight,' she said. 'You know he will.'

They had already pushed this visit back three times. If they did it again, there would be repercussions. Dáin had never liked them. Turning back now could prove a costly mistake.

Having said that, she wanted to turn around and go back. She wanted the comfort of her own bed, her own place. She wanted a safe place where she could heal and where the boys could quietly learn to deal with the horrors that had befallen them.

But Thorin was King under the Mountain and Kate his Queen. What they wanted did not always mean anything. She had known that when she married him. They had duties to perform.

Thorin knew it too. 'Aye,' he said. 'So I must go. You must not.'

If anything, that might be worse. Dáin would think that she snubbed him. She said so to Thorin. Of course, she dearly wanted to snub Dáin, because Dáin was an obnoxious specimen even on a good day. It was why this trip had not yet been a priority in the first place. She'd sooner go for another visit with Thranduil than bother with Dáin bloody Ironfoot.

And he knew it.

'You are not well,' Thorin pointed out.

'I can ride in a cart,' Kate countered. Which would be slow and uncomfortable, not to mention very, very boring. But it would also show commitment, which would take all the wind out of Dáin's sails of righteous outrage at their delay. 'I'll be back on my feet by the time we get to the Iron Hills.' She looked her husband in the eyes. 'If our situations were reversed, would you insist that we turned back?'

They both knew the answer to that one.

In the end, they compromised. They didn't break camp at dawn. Thorin sent Fíli and Lufur back to Erebor with instructions to bring more guards. That would buy them a few days' rest before they carried on and they'd have more guards on the journey. It was clear that the amount of orcs in the region had been vastly underestimated.

Thora decreed strict rest for Kate until they travelled on. She had fabricated some sort of chair just outside the tent, in which Kate had been placed so she could do her resting in the fresh air and warm spring sunshine.

'You'll stay there, if you know what's good for you,' Thora warned.

Kate raised her eyebrows. 'Or what?'

Thora smiled brightly. 'You'll find out.'

Kate clearly did not want to find out. She stayed where she was and indeed fell asleep shortly after. Ori volunteered to look after the lads. He wisely set up his travel desk within sight of Kate, so that he could keep an eye on his sister and the boys could glance up every once in a while to see that their mother was still there.

Thorin had to forego that comfort so that he could set about restoring order to the camp. There were orcs' corpses to be rid of and damage to clear up. A start had been made on both already. But there was the small matter of why the orcs had been able to get so close without anyone sounding the alarm.

'I'll see to that,' Dwalin promised with a face that promised all sorts of retribution. He had hand-picked the guards and seemed to take their negligence as a personal insult.

'It was not your fault,' Thorin said.

He knew that Dwalin had not been on duty at the perimeter, as he had been on duty outside Thorin's own tent. Having guards nearby still seemed odd, especially since his closest friend was one of them – and by choice too – but if last night had proven anything, it was that he should have assigned more of them. If he had, Kate might not now lie wounded, unable to move without moaning in pain.

He knew where blame should be assigned. It was not with Dwalin.

'Wasn't yours either,' Dwalin said knowingly.

Thorin said nothing.

Dwalin clapped him on the shoulders. 'I'll find out what happened.'

Thorin left him to it and focused his efforts on dragging the corpses out of the camp to be burnt. Dwalin's estimate of about fifty orcs had been correct; Thorin counted fifty-two, including the ones who had attacked Kate. It was a large enough party that they should have been noticed. Last night had been a clear night, and the moon was nearly full. If the guards had been paying attention, as they ought to, the alarm would have been raised before the orcs barged into the camp.

It occurred to him that this could have ended far worse than it did. That no lives had been lost was a miracle he duly gave thanks to his Maker for.

Dwalin found him again just as they set fire to the pile. 'I found them. I reckoned you would want a word.'

A bit more than a word too, if truth be told. Unfortunately, there were things the King under the Mountain was not supposed to do. Beating his incompetent guards to a bloody pulp was one of these.

'What happened?' Thorin asked.

Dwalin growled. 'Arrogance and complacency,' he spat. 'They had determined amongst themselves that no orc would dare attack so close to Erebor and therefore spent no time watching and a lot of time indulging in strong drinks.'

'They were drunk?'

Dwalin's glare could have felled an orc at a distance of fifty paces. 'Exceedingly.'

Their incompetence could have meant Kate's life as well as the lives of his sons. Their incompetence meant that his young sons now moved through camp like ghosts, shooting fearful glances in their mother's direction. Their incompetence meant that Kate now lay wounded.

He was in no mood to be merciful.

Dwalin had stashed the three guards in a tent. None of them looked up when they entered. They seemed to shrink instead.

Thorin knew all of them by face, though only the one called Ofur he knew by name, and that only because some years ago he seemed under the illusion that he dictated who was and wasn't allowed to speak to Kate. The other two were older, battle-hardened warriors, but not of his own folk. They had dwelled in the Iron Hills until Erebor had been reclaimed. That was indeed true for all three of them. That was a mark against them in Thorin's eyes, and their actions last night had blackened their records beyond repair.

'Explain yourselves.' He didn't shout, he did not even raise his voice, although that was an effort.

There was much nervous shuffling of feet. None spoke.

So Thorin repeated himself. 'Explain yourselves. You were negligent in your duties. As a result, the orcs reached our camp unnoticed and did much damage. Because of what you didn't do, your Queen now lies injured.' He didn't mention what last night's events had done to his sons, but only because he would deal out his judgement in violence if he did.

They were supposed to be safe. We were supposed to have won that when we won back Erebor. Instead they'd had a raw taste of the dangers of this world and it had marked them. For that loss of innocence Thorin would have cheerfully ripped these fellows' heads off and felt no remorse for it.

The eldest of the trio lifted his head a little, so that he stared at Thorin's chest instead of his feet. 'We reckoned none would dare attack us so close to Erebor, my lord,' he said. 'All about the camp folk were laughing and singing. We thought there was no harm in it.'

'You thought to join the festivities,' Thorin said. 'Instead of performing the duties you were assigned.'

His words seemed to make the three before him shrink even further. Little good their shame would do them now. The damage was already done.

He regarded them as they all avoided his gaze. They had been deficient in their character, negligent in their duties and arrogant in their attitudes. Lots of the Iron Hills folk had this problem and was it any wonder? They had never known anything but safety. They had no experience of being preyed upon on the road. When they ventured out, it was in armies of such size that a small party of orcs would never dare attack. They never learned that small parties were the kind of prey orcs were after.

They never learned their lessons the hard way.

'You are dismissed from the royal guard.' He could do no less. He had his people to consider.

Three mouths fell open in unison. 'But my lord! That is our craft.'

But on this he would not bend. 'And you do not excel at it. It would be wise to find another in which you can achieve some mastery.' Ofur opened his mouth to protest again, but Thorin cut him off: 'You have shamed the trust your captain put in you. You have failed in your primary duty to protect me and mine. You cannot continue in your chosen craft.' He would not have them put others in danger. Not again. 'You will pack your things and return to Erebor. There you will consider your future endeavours.'

He turned on his heel and left the tent before he did something ill-advised like bash their ignorant heads together.

'Thorin, I apologise,' Dwalin said when they were out of earshot of the former guards. 'I should not have brought them.'

'Why did you?'

Dwalin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. 'They're Iron Hills folk. I thought Dáin might take it as insult if we employed none of his folk.'

Politics. 'Dáin will take offence at everything,' Thorin pointed out. And he did. There seemed to be nothing Thorin did that did not vex his kinsman. Of course, the feeling was entirely mutual; there was very little that Dáin did that could be assured of Thorin's seal of approval. They had too much history for that to change. 'Next time, take the most competent you have and leave the others at home. If Dáin mislikes it, let him.'

Dwalin nodded. 'I'll see to that. And, with your permission, I'll assign the best of my guards to Kate and your lads. This won't happen again.'

Thorin nodded. 'I know.'

Kate wouldn't say it, but she was glad that she had a few days to rest before they moved on again. It turned out that getting slashed open really took it out of a body. The pain was constant, even with Thora's ever-improving pain potions, her arms hurt something fierce and her head had yet to stop pounding. The only escape was sleep, which was facilitated by another one of Thora's incomparable potions. As a result, she had only very sketchy memory of the first two days after the attack.

Only on the third day did she return for sizeable chunks of time to the waking world and it was then that she realised a crisis of another nature had arisen. It had already become apparent that her lads did not venture very far from her side, and that Thorin found reasons to hover as well, but thanks to the potions, she had thus far slept through the nightmares.

That came to an abrupt end in the middle of the night, when heartrending screams pulled her from deep sleep to alert wakefulness in two seconds flat. Even so, she was already two seconds behind her husband, who was up and halfway to Thráin, who was thrashing and screaming in his sleep.

Thorin, with the air of someone who had done this before and fully expected to be doing this again, sat down beside him and put a gentle hand on Thráin's shoulder. He woke, blinked and then hurled himself into Thorin's arms, sobbing as if the world was ending.

Maker be good.

'Amad, I want amad!'

Medical advice was all good and well, but her child needed her and that trumped good advice any day. She sat up, waited until the world stopped spinning, then got out of bed, waited until the world stopped spinning again, and made her way to her husband and child.

'Come here, dearie,' she said, holding out her arms for him.

Thorin began to ask her if she was sure, but Thráin had no such reservations. He threw himself at her and wrapped his little arms around her neck. That was just as well, because he couldn't see her wince at the impact.

Thorin put his hand on Thráin's back. 'It is the third time.'

'Since the attack?'

'This night.'

No wonder he looked so tired. 'Go back to sleep. I've got him.'

He shook his head and laid his free hand on the back of her neck. 'There is no need, Kate. I did not sleep.'

This was not the time to ask if he'd had nightmares too. Either way, Kate reckoned she could have a good guess at the answer. She put her free hand on his leg.

Thoren stirred too, blinked and without waiting for permission, hopped onto Thorin's lap. He didn't cry or demand or beg. In fact, he didn't say a word and that was worse.

She stroked Thráin's back slowly, murmuring reassurances, until at last he had cried himself out. 'There, darling, feeling better now?'

His 'yes' was hesitant at best.

'I'm here, Thráin,' Kate said. 'I'm not going away. The guards will not let anything bad come close again. I promise.' She didn't make that promise lightly, but this one she dared to make. Dwalin took his job seriously. He'd make sure nothing came anywhere near them.

'Really promise?'

'Really promise. Now, time for bed, dearie. Think you can sleep now?'

'Song, please?' The request was Thoren's. 'Adad, please?'

Nothing sent them to sleep as fast as Thorin's singing did, and rightly so. It was very soothing to listen to him and this night was no different. Thráin sagged against her barely one verse into the lullaby. Thoren tried to keep his head up, lost the battle and it fell on Thorin's shoulder instead. He too was asleep before the last verse.

They mustn't have slept much. And Thorin had done all of the heavy lifting while she was out of it. That of course had to end now. She was more or less mobile again – assisted mobility was still mobility of sorts – so that meant that she could see to some of the essentials again.

Kate tucked Thráin in while Thorin put their eldest back to bed. 'Sweet dreams, my darling boy.'

Mahal, see to that, please.

'I might need some help getting back to bed,' she said when Thorin was done. Getting here had taken a lot more energy than she had anticipated and her legs felt suspiciously wobbly. Riding in the cart might be boring, but at least she wouldn't fall off every five minutes.

Her husband was pleased to assist. Kate thought he would just help her walk, but he lifted her up entirely and carried her all the way back, which might be better. Healing took up far too much energy for Kate's tastes.

'Thank you,' she said when he put her down again.

He lay down beside her. 'Would that you never needed to fight.'

Kate hoped so too, but she also knew that nothing was ever guaranteed. She was glad though that Dwalin had continued to train her and that she had Excalibur with her so that she could defend herself and her children if the need arose.

'Agreed,' she said. 'It shouldn't have happened, but you came when I needed you and you performed a dashing rescue.' She reached for his hand. 'I'm here. And I don't plan on doing anything like that again.' She was silent for a few moments. 'You won't lose me, you know.'

He said nothing, but the silence spoke very loud indeed.

The journey to the Iron Hills, when it resumed after five days of rest, remained uneventful. Fíli and Lufur had returned with perhaps more guards than strictly needed in tow. Without having to be told, they had brought only the guards who belonged to Thorin's own folk, those who had been sharpened by exile and whose instincts Thorin found he could trust.

Kate spent most of her time in a cart, either sleeping or reading through documents Ori obligingly handed over in order to keep her occupied. She remarked that at least she would be well prepared for this visit even if it was mind-numbingly boring.

The lads tried to stay within sight of her. Thráin was either on the cart with Kate or riding with someone in the immediate vicinity. As the days passed, though, the nightmares came less frequently and he began to smile and play again as a lad his age should.

Would that Thoren did the same. But he was older and therefore understood a little better what had happened. He'd had to look after his brother too, keeping it together for both of them. His nightmares were not the noisy affair Thráin's were. It would have been easy to miss them altogether had they not all slept in the same tent. Thoren would wake with gasps and rapid breathing and silent tears.

One such time, a week after the attack, Thorin was already up, soothing Thráin back to sleep, when Thoren sat up suddenly, gasping for air. Thráin was mostly asleep, so Thorin kissed his brow and turned his attention to his eldest.

'It's all right, lad,' he said. 'It was just a dream.'

A very bad dream, a very bad memory, but a memory all the same. He would see to it that nothing of the kind happened again.

Thoren leaned against him, trembling ever so slightly. Thorin stroked his back until his breathing calmed down, humming softly. He didn't waste his breath on empty words and vain promises. He could not promise his son safety from nightmares. They were his own old companions, always seeking him out when he would least expect it, crippling him with their unsought company.

Would that his children had been free of them for longer.

'Will they come back?' Thoren asked at last.

'Perhaps.' Orcs, like nightmares, came unbidden and unwished for. 'But when they do, they shall not come near you or your brother again.'

Thoren considered this in silence. 'And amad?'

'They will not come near her again either.' But when it was needed, she would take up her sword and stand in defence of her children again. She might be wounded or killed. He only had to close his eyes to remember the blood, her falling down. Worse than that was the terror that accompanied that memory.

He could so easily have lost her.

She lives, he reminded himself. They both looked at the other side of the tent, where Kate slumbered, as if they both needed to see the evidence.

Thoren looked up at him. 'Adad, can you teach me to fight?' It was a serious question, delivered with more solemnity than a lad his age should possess.

How long has he thought about this?

Thorin shook his head. 'Not yet,' he said, trying to banish the idea of his tiny son holding a dagger against an orc. Maker, please no. 'It is not the right time yet.'

His people had known a time when they'd had to put weapons in the hands of those too young to properly hold them, because it was better that they have something at least against the inevitable attacks, little good though it did. He would not force his sons into experiencing the never-ending desperation of those first years of exile.

His own eyes scrutinised him. 'Because I'm too little?'

'Aye, lad, that's part of it,' Thorin said, pulling the boy onto his lap. 'You are not yet tall enough or strong enough to wield a blade.' Any orc he encountered would kill him instantly. 'But more than that, it is not yet time for you to learn the business of adults.' He would likely understand what privilege this was when he was older. 'A time will come when you will have to learn and then you'll find that it is no easy burden.'

Thoren considered this. 'When I am old enough, will you teach me?'

'Aye, that I will.' But not yet, not for some years. 'As will Dwalin, and Fíli, and your uncles, and Mr Lufur.' He kissed the top of his son's head. 'But not yet. The time is not yet right.'

'Yes, adad.'

'Good lad.' Maker give that this was the last he'd hear of this for a while. He'd be pleased if both of his sons became capable warriors, but in due course. Not yet. The days that they trained their youngsters in war before they were ready were in the past. 'Lie down, now. It is time to sleep.'

'Song, please?'

Thorin could not refuse that. So he sang his son back to sleep and prayed another time for peace.

The journey to the Iron Hills took up more than a week longer than initially planned. Thorin insisted that they take it slow – for the lads' sake, he claimed, although Kate suspected that it was mostly for her benefit – and so slowly they had taken it. It was boring beyond words, so Kate did the sensible thing by sleeping for huge stretches at a time. It wasn't a very dwarvish thing to do, but there wasn't anything she was allowed to do anyway and her body rather needed it as well.

She did draw the line at being in the cart when they arrived in the Iron Hills. Dáin had a low enough opinion of her as it was, and arriving a week later than previously communicated was bound to have him grumpy and disagreeable before the visit even started.

'He will never take me seriously if I don't arrive on my own pony and walk to meet him on my own two feet,' she pointed out to Thorin the night before they were due to arrive. 'Thora says my wound is fine. I should be able to ride.'

'She also said you should not overexert yourself.' Unfortunately there was nothing wrong with Thorin's memory.

Much as Kate would love to claim that dealing with Dáin counted as overexertion, she didn't. 'Thorin, I will be all right,' she promised. 'I've rested so much lately.' If she had to lie there even one more day, she might start screaming.

Having said that, she understood his point too. The fight scene must have looked like something out of a horror film. Thora said that she had lost a lot of blood before they could stem the bleeding and a concussion was nothing to sneeze at either. It wasn't strange that Thorin wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe.

'I'll stay by your side,' she promised. 'You can keep an eye out yourself.'

He gave her a look that said he knew what she was doing, but his face relaxed a bit. 'Aye, that is where you belong.'

Kate smiled. 'So I do.'

So the next morning she was out of the cart and back on her pony. The Iron Hills loomed before them, but they weren't expected to arrive at Dáin's gate till mid-afternoon. The pace was therefore easy, which was just as well, because Kate's side twinged every now and again. The twinges never escalated into real pain or discomfort, so she tried to ignore them as best she could.

They stopped at lunch to freshen themselves up. Kate dug out a fancy gown from her luggage and put it on. Funny how wearing a pretty dress actually could make one feel a bit better, Kate reflected. Whether or not she looked any better was a matter undecided yet; she hadn't been anywhere near a mirror since leaving Erebor.

Probably for the best.

'Sit down,' Thorin said. 'I'll do your hair.'

He was very skilled at that. It was one of those things that people never quite expected of him, given the simplicity of style he imposed on his own hair. 'Thanks.' When he did her hair, it always looked good and, not unimportant in Kate's case, most of her hair usually stayed in the style he put it in.

It was going to be an elaborate sort of do, Kate felt as he went to work. He had laid out her crown as well to be braided into it, which made her frown.

'Are you planning to wear yours as well?' she asked.

'Aye.' His hands stilled. 'Dáin is not… Dáin is my kinsman, but…'

Such a struggle with words usually did not bode well. 'You don't trust him,' Kate said, more statement than question.

'Not entirely.' Thorin kept his voice low, as this was not something people were supposed to hear. 'His loyalty has proven fickle in the past.' When he declined to lend any aid to the quest. 'Nor has he ever made any secret of his dislike for you.'

Kate remembered that well enough. On some of his visits to Erebor Dáin had been downright rude to her. He'd been unfailingly polite in public, but face to face he was unpleasant at best. The whole thing was worse, because she could always feel that undercurrent of hostility influencing his every interaction with her. And that was in Erebor, where Thorin and Kate were at home, surrounded by their own.

This time Dáin would have the home ground advantage.

She turned her head to look at Thorin's face and found it deeply troubled. 'He won't do anything to us,' Kate said. Dwarves were not really into royal assassinations. That of course did not stop them from pulling out all the stops in trying to make her feel miserable. 'Nothing violent, that is.'

'Ten years past I would have thought so,' Thorin said. 'Yet he ignored his oath when he denied the help he ought to have given. His loyalty has been circumspect at best since then. You know the councillors with whom he surrounds himself. They are dragon-tongued, every last one of them.'

Owing to the fact that all of those who weren't had left the Iron Hills for Erebor.

Thorin brushed a hand across her neck. 'It will not hurt them to be reminded that you are the Queen under the Mountain, to whom they owe allegiance.'

Kate smiled at the touch and reached up to take his hand. 'They remember that well enough,' she remarked wryly. 'It's why they're all so sour in the first place.'

'I am loath to have them so near to you.' The hold he had on her hand wasn't painful, but not quite comfortable either. 'You play their game well, I know, but I'd rather you need not play it at all.'

'But play we must,' Kate said softly. 'And we will have guards aplenty to keep us safe.'

In this way the orc attack had brought about one thing that gave her a little peace of mind. The guards Thorin had called in the aftermath of that attack were of his own people, the ones who had shared exile with him, the ones who were loyal to him. Their loyalty went beyond just the words of their oaths. They meant them, and then they acted on them.

Technically, the Iron Hills people were Thorin's people as well, but everyone knew the distinction was there. The Iron Hills people were under the crown, but only reluctantly so. If they could do what they wanted without consulting Erebor, they likely would. If they could undermine Thorin in any way, experience indicated that they would leap at the chance.

Unsurprisingly, Kate didn't trust them either.

'Aye,' Thorin said. His tone indicated he would much rather turn around and head back to Erebor.

He really wasn't alone in that either.

'So if we must indeed play, I would remind them that you are their Queen and that they ought to treat you as such, in the language that they understand.'

Kate thought that unlikely, but there was no reassuring her husband with words. So she attempted it in the language they both spoke very well and kissed him instead.

Next time: arrival in the Iron Hills. Everything there is… just a bit much.

Reviews and requests would be lovely.

Until next week!