Chapter Two

Lady Nÿr's morning schedule as a healer trainee had included rounds in the infirmary (currently holding two patients with head wounds and one forge apprentice with a bad burn) and assisting the senior midwife with pre-natal checkups for three mothers-in-waiting.

Now she had an appointment with a young Guard lad, almost fully healed from a badly broken leg.

In her pocket, she fingered a small piece of black dragonstone carved into the shape of a raven. Her intended, Prince Kili, had given it to her as a personal token on the day she'd been officially confirmed as a Ravenspeaker. She'd always been able to understand Erebor's peculiar black birds, but in the last few weeks he'd trained her to the protocols of the Guard, and the ravens now knew her as one of the dwarves to whom they could report news.

And the little stone carving had become a special signal between herself and her intended—a secret invitation to meet in her hidden study, the secret little room he'd given her for her own.

And she had already decided that she was sending the little token to him today, finally having an evening free just for the two of them.

But she needed an accomplice to make sure it landed in a place where Kili would be sure to find it, and here was just the lad she was looking for, Kili's young archer cadet, Skirfir, hobbling in on his crutches.

"Good news, Skirfir," she said, after a thorough exam of his left leg. The break had been clean and it was healing well. "No more crutches. Time to go without, I think."

The young archer smiled at her. He was thoroughly besotted.

His admiration embarrassed her, but she was getting used to it. In fact, it was the same reaction she got from all the young guard lads.

Kili had found the phenomena amusing when she'd told him about it, explaining it was partly their curiosity about the lassie brave enough to partner their Commander, and the rest their genuine fascination with any lass who paid them any manner of female attention. "And face it," he'd shrugged and grinned. "They just like you."

Still, she'd had to limit how many healer calls she'd make to the cadet dorm, handing the bulk of that work to the healer lads.

She held up the stone raven once her exam of Skirfir's leg was done. "I wonder if I might impose upon you for your help again," she said. "Think you can plant this where he'll find it?"

Skirfir flushed a bit in shy embarrassment, nodded, and let her drop it in his hand. "Yes, my Lady. He's due in the command office a bit later."

She touched his arm. "Thank you," and felt her own face warm a little. Raised an orphan by a foster mother in Dale, Nÿr was not used to the kind of attention Erebor's Prince attracted. Not that he noticed it, either. It had been part of his daily life for years and he simply didn't let it bother him.

"I'm also sending a message up for you to return to light duty," she went on. "But don't overdo it. Keep up the doses of boneset tea, and I want to see you again in two weeks."

"By all means, My Lady," Skirfir grinned, clearly pleased for any excuse to be in the same room with her again.

"Cadet Skirfir?" the grey bearded clerk assigned to the Commander's Office called for his presence. Skirfir had been waiting patiently since presenting himself with a request to meet.

Skirfir stood.

"Lost the crutches, eh laddie?"

"Yes, sir." He held his light duty notice in his hand, the raven token hidden in his pocket.

The clerk led him down a short corridor to the Commander's ready room. Kili was there, standing over plans laid out on a table.

"Come on in, lad," Kili waved a hand at him. He had pen and ink out, and was making notes. After a moment he set the quill aside.

Skirfir bowed. "At your service, my lord."

"As I am at yours," Kili answered, folding his arms and considering him. Fact was, Kili was somewhat more than his commander. Kili was his ushmar...his guardian in place of his dead father. It was a thing warriors did for each other—to undertake the guidance of underage sons when a warrior died in battle.

That had been almost four years ago...and today, Skirfir would do anything for his Lord Prince. Right now, he was aware that his ushmar looked very serious. He offered the folded paper in his hand.

Kili took it, quickly reading the note with the healer's mark. "Light duty! Good for you. The timing's just right." Kili set the note aside. "I'm headed on a quick trip to Dale, Skirf. Since we're riding, no reason you shouldn't come along. I could use your eyes and your bow."

Skirfir stood taller. "Right now?"

Kili grinned. "Tomorrow morning. The weather watchers say we're in for two, maybe three days of clear skies. There's a crew out clearing the road from the main gate now. Get a good night's sleep and hot breakfast."

"Yes, sir." As eager as he was to be back on duty, Skirfir couldn't help feeling relieved that it wouldn't start until tomorrow.

His commander looked puzzled at the reaction.

"It's only," he reached into his pocket. "The Lady Nÿr passed this to me," he said. "Wouldn't want to disappoint her by you being gone." Skirfir hadn't told her, but he had never quite been able to mysteriously leave the token as she asked. His loyalty to Kili couldn't have withstood the subterfuge. Instead, he always found a way to hand deliver it, fully transparent in his role as the go-between, at least to his Prince.

His ushmar raised his eyebrows, taking the little carved bird that Skirfir offered. "Were you supposed to leave it on my desk?" Kili's voice had an amused and teasing lilt and his smile was warm.

Skirfir laughed. His Lord, thank Mahal, understood the rules of the game.

"I just said you were due in the command office…" Skirfir shrugged and tried not to blush. He didn't know exactly what the token meant between his prince and the healer, but everybody knew they were intendeds…and no one inside Erebor was much fooled by the pretense of a chaste and proper courtship year. In fact, hardier souls had opened bets on the matter.

And the guards' money was firmly on they're banging each other like Rhosgobel rabbits.

"Skirf?"

"Just…that's all."

"Well, mischief managed," Kili grinned, tucking the carved bird into a pocket. "How well do you know Dale, Skirfir?" He changed the subject.

Skirfir shrugged. "The usual pubs we visit on leave…"

Kili nodded.

"The shopkeepers' commons…the haymarket."

"Good. We're headed there to look for someone, but you will keep it under wraps. Your job will be to visit the pubs and ask around a bit." He circled his desk, opened a drawer and dug for something. After a moment he slid a few coins across the table. "Take those. They're small and random enough that they won't attract attention. Your job will be to buy yourself a few ales and keep your eyes and ears open."

Skirfir nodded. He stepped forward, took the coins and pocketed them.

"We'll be looking for Duf, the Ravenspeaker. Do you know him?"

"I've seen him," Skirfir nodded. Duf was actually a distant cousin of his Commander and his King. Had to be, to be a Ravenspeaker. He was one of Lord Dori's nephews, in fact.

"You'd recognize him, then?"

"I would, sir."

"Good lad." Kili nodded and picked up his quill again. "Be at the stables, one bell past sunrise tomorrow. No uniforms, dress warm. Bring your bow."

Kili skipped the evening meal.

Instead, he crossed the open-air walkways through the inner hub of Erebor and headed for the Halls of Learning, bypassing the main corridors and slowing at a six-way intersection marked by a statue of Jormund the Apothecary. He paused, pulling a note from his pocket as if checking a detail, and waited for a moment when the hall was free of onlookers. Then he slipped unseen into the plain, narrow passage that led to the secret hideaway they called Nÿr's Study.

It really was a study, to be sure. In fact, it had been his mother's study, used when she had been a lass learning under the schoolmasters. It held many shelves, a small library of books, and a large oak table suitable for evenings when they both needed to spread out papers and work in easy silence.

But there was also a fireplace with a plush rug and a large overstuffed chair…all of which could be invitingly comfortable and interestingly romantic.

He knocked twice on the door before putting his key to the lock.

But he didn't need it. The door opened to the sweet, serene smile of his intended, the Lady Nÿr. He couldn't help but smile back.

He stepped inside, slowly reaching into his pocket and offering her the little carved raven.

Her hands were soft and gentle against his as she took it back, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tall form tight against him, taking in the scent of her.

In a little while they would talk, and he would tell her that he was leaving the mountain tomorrow, that he might be gone a few days.

But first, they needed time together that had nothing to do with talking.

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Ushmar = guardian; refers to the practice of ushmar, a dwarven tradition of older males informally adopting fatherless underage males and undertaking the role of parent-mentor. Generally undertaken by a warrior who witnesses or discovers the actual parent's death in battle. (More about how this happened in story 4!)