Chapter Five

Kili couldn't have put two words together if he tried. It was Bofur who managed to save the moment.

"Let's hear it for Ruby!" Bofur shouted, taking the attention off Erebor's prince. "My dear lady…bright as jewels and a heart of gold," he wrapped a congenial arm around the shoulders of the plump dwarf madam as if she were a beloved old friend.

Bard spoke up then. "You'll have to tell the entire story, now," he said, turning her to face the crowd. "Tell them how you came upon a group of travelers, ambushed by orcs, and took a poor orphaned babe from her dying mother's arms, swearing to protect her with your very life."

"Aye, that I did. A group of noble travelers, from their look." Ruby wiped an eye. "Promised to hide the wee lass away from the evils of Sauron himself."

"Aye," Bard agreed. "And then did so! Hiding her right here! In plain sight!" He laughed and raised a hand to the ceiling of Ruby's House. "Brilliant!"

Ruby nodded, hand on her chest as if touched. "And we made sure she always had the best, we did."

"Of course you did," Bard nodded, then planted a big, wet smack of a kiss on the dwarf madam's cheek.

"And she lived quite a sheltered young life, that one did," one of the other working lasses stepped up. "Schooled with the townfolk, all very proper." She was nodding, getting the others to do the same.

"And no need to work," Madam Ruby said with pride. "I made double sure she only walked the respectable side of the house, because I knew, whoever her people were, they weren't scrappers like me, I can tell you that. She's always been our little princess," Ruby's voice broke, tears of pride on her cheeks as she glanced back at Kili. Bard offered a linen handkerchief.

The crowd ooohed and ahhhed, patting each other's hands and smiling at the very idea of Durin's wee lassie (since they all knew her as a Ravenspeaker now) taken in and protected by such big-hearted gals of the red silk trade.

Kili felt himself breathing again, thanks to Bard and to Bofur. As exasperating as the old miner could be, no one alive could think faster on his feet, and he had just neatly turned a disaster into a charming fairy tale.

The crowd around them was clearly hanging on every word, their expressions sympathetic.

Mahal's stones, he thought. They might be lucky enough to dodge the consequences of this news. Erebor's dwarves looked charmed by idea of a royal daughter being sheltered and protected by her rougher kind. The Dale people looked proud.

But his relief didn't last.

"Tell them about the man, Jon Spear," one of the lasses called out. "A dream of a first love if there ever was. He could have had any girl, woman or dwarf, and he wanted that little lass!"

Mahal. Kili could have lived the remainder of his days without knowing the man's name.

"Wooed her night and day, he did," another piped up. But the crowd had become quiet.

"For as long as it lasted," someone else said.

Ruby's face went as bright as her name. "None of that," she said gruffly, glancing at Kili. "All in the past, all in the past. Puppy love, nothing more. Didn't last more than a month or two. Nothing more."

Kili spoke up, knowing he had to. "And well and truly over," he grabbed Bofur's tankard and raised it. "Since I've heard the whole short, sweet story of it. And truth be known, who am I to talk?" He grinned, intentionally conveying that his own exploits would be far less likely to stand up under scrutiny. And, he reflected, they wouldn't.

Bard laughed loud and raised the first tankard in response, the rest of the pub following suit.

"To the past!" Bofur shouted. Chatter resumed, though not as loose and loud as it had been moments earlier. Fact was, Dwarves liked selling to men. They did not like crossing the line in matters of...romance.

Kili drank, fending off Bofur's hand as the old dwarf attempted to get his ale back.

But the damage was done. Kili could see it in the scandalized looks of the merchant dwarves and the sudden serious faces of the guard. He might be forgiven any youthful indiscretions (though he was sure the part about the elf would be an exception,) but lassies were held to a very different standard.

Pretty unfair, he thought. If you ask me.

He let Bofur have the tankard, mostly empty, and wiped his mouth.

He wondered for a moment whether he could get back to Erebor before the gossip did…and then realized with a sinking heart that the answer was no. He would send a coded message by raven, and would do so in any case to alert them to the smugglers and the odd unrest. But any one of these people could leave here now and be back inside the mountain by mid-afternoon.

And the news about Nÿr would run like fire through Erebor twenty times over before dinner.

The Lady Nÿr and a man from Dale...

She didn't deserve it. Everything he knew and loved about her told him that.

He turned to see Bofur staring at him.

"You already knew about this," Bofur said, deadpan. His eyes were solemn and sympathetic.

Kili took a breath. "Yes. But I'm pretty sure no one else did," he said, meaning the people of Erebor.

Bofur had the good sense to say nothing.

Nÿr's first hint that something was wrong occurred when her late afternoon appointments assisting the senior midwife were suddenly cancelled. Then her last visit to an older matron in the lady's quarters was met with a, "No, not today," and a slammed door.

And that's when Nÿr began noticing hushed words spoken from behind hands and saw the slanted looks.

Whatever it was, she could tell a cold shoulder when she got one.

And then there was the confrontation in the trainee's dining hall. It started with a bump and spilled tea.

"I'm sorry," Nÿr said, automatically apologizing.

Three lads blocked her way.

"She even looks like one," one of them said.

The other two huffed and chuckled. It was not friendly banter.

"Too tall and too skinny," one of the others said in tones used to described soiled bedlinens. "Like men."

The last lad let loose with a slur in khuzdul that she wasn't even sure she fully understood.

"Take your dinner elsewhere," the last one said. "This hall is for real dwarves."

And her way had been blocked. She had looked them in eye, one after the other, uncertain about the hostility. But she was met with stone-faced intransigence.

She wasn't going to waste time on it. She turned and left, oddly shaken.

That was when she headed for the one person who might help her.

At the entry to the King's private chambers, the royal guard on duty looked down her nose.

"The Prince, Lord Kili, is away," she said. Clearly she would say nothing more.

Nÿr frowned. "Yes, I know. He told me last night. I'm here to call upon Lady An."

The guard was unmoving.

Nÿr looked at the closed door. She had one last card to play, given to her by Lady An on that evening two months back when the marriage proposal had been accepted.

She raised her chin and spoke clearly. "By the last light of Durin's Day, I request an audience with the Queen."

The guard's expression went blank, then the stubborn woman inclined her head in the slightest nod and stalked inside.

A long few minutes later, the door locks clicked open and Nÿr was admitted, finding herself surrounded by no fewer than six Royal Guard.

And she was not allowed to take herself into the family quarters but was escorted into the formal sitting room.

"Oh, really," Lady An said when she entered, seeing all of the security protocol in place when it was only Nÿr. "Shoo, all of you."

The female guard began to object.

"I know what you've heard and it's not your business. Go on!" She ushered them out, then turned and took Nÿr by the elbow, turning her from the door as it closed.

"What have they heard…?" Nÿr asked, her gut suddenly feeling hollow. "Lady An?"

An made an impatient gesture. "Gossip. From the ones who were down in Dale today."

Nÿr's spine felt iced. "Dale? Is Kili…?"

"He's fine." An stopped, meeting Nyr's eyes. "But apparently he met your foster mother and there was a very revealing conversation witnessed by quite a crowd."

Nÿr froze. "I don't want to hear this," she said, turning to leave.

An grabbed her hand. "It's a rumor about a man in Dale," she said. Their eyes met and Nÿr saw that her Queen was seeking the truth. "Is it true, Nÿr?"

But Nÿr couldn't think. It was her worst nightmare, and it was coming horribly true all around her. She broke free of Lady An's grip and fled.

Fjalar, Prince of Erebor and newly appointed Apprentice Ravenspeaker made his way through Erebor's imposing Main Gate. He had completed his second shift standing on the hill and listening to the ravens that flew in, and Old Dwalin had sent him off.

It was harder than it looked, having to stand there for hours.

But he couldn't get over the fact that he was allowed outside without tutors, guards, or chamberlains watching over him.

He was with warriors now. And that was amazing.

If only his uncle had been there. It was an honor to have Old Dwalin, but the old dwarf dozed off more than he talked. And he was gruff. Uncle Kili was much more fun, and he could actually talk to his uncle. Everyone else just expected him to nod and listen.

Fjalar made it to the gatehouse and waited for the duty captain to assign an escort to take him back to his family's quarters, just as he'd been told to do by his mother. The gatehouse was a beehive of activity, though. It was the coded messages, Fjalar realized. Something about them had the Gate Battalion mustering and the duty captain pre-occupied. Fjalar was politely asked to wait, then put aside, and finally he was feeling completely forgotten.

And really, he didn't see why he couldn't just take himself home. His mother was treating him like he was a child. He mulled over the strict words his father had given and couldn't recall anything about needing an escort home. In fact, a true warrior dwarf didn't interfere with bigger duties, like a muster. It was childish, really, to expect someone to make time for him when he was fully capable of walking up a few flights of stairs.

Plus, he'd heard about a particularly interesting secret door just past the King's Hall that led to a shortcut straight up to the Halls of Learning, and from there to the observatory. He could visit both places and still be home before his mother fussed at him—and the Gate Battalion wouldn't have to be bothered. Besides, if he was old enough to be a Ravenspeaker, his mother could well accept that he was old enough to walk home.

So Fjalar threaded his way through the crowd and headed for the King's Hall.

The passage to the secret door had to be just about here, he thought, reaching a row of pillars. He weaved around them, a youthful figure at the foot of such dark, towering monoliths. He quickly realized how alike the stonework was, all repeating patterns and designs. A few people glanced curiously at him as they passed, obviously wondering what a lad was doing there alone. But he ducked them and they moved on.

He crossed to the other side of the hall, figuring he had gotten turned around. He searched the stonework, looking for what he thought should be a panel with a geometric gem pattern.

"Hey," someone whispered.

Fjalar looked up, completely surprised that someone else was here. He saw the dark eyes of an unfamiliar merchant lady.

Strong grip on his arm; a cloth coming up to cover his nose and mouth.

A sharp, stinging odor.

And everything went completely black.

.

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The plot thickens... THANKS for reading, and stay tuned for next week's chapter! I am headed to San Diego Comic Con in later this month-MUCH to hear about Rings of Power, and very interesting news about the Anime film "War of the Rohiriim" that Phillipa Boyens worked on. There have been a few pics released of Hera, a red-haired princess of Rohan who rides a white horse with a braided mane. (squeee!) You can probably google that and find the art. Also hoping to hear more about the new Peter Jackson/Andy Serkis project "The Hunt for Gollum." Apparently this takes place after the events in The Hobbit, but before Fellowship of the Rings. I'll be making any program about those projects my Comic-Con priority!

Hand on Heart to all of you!

- Summer