It had been roughly two months since the Battle of the Five Armies - that's what they were calling it, though when I tried to work it out, I thought there had been more than five distinct forces in the field... but who was I to question it? That would be a problem for the scholars and scribes - people like Ori, and Bilbo Baggins.
In any case, two months had passed since the battle and, though we were all getting back to the tedium of our daily lives, I continued to undergo my duties with a bit more spring in my step after becoming engaged to Bofur. During my down time, I cast happy glances at my dwarf whenever I saw him. Nevertheless, I was resigning myself to being in a long-term engagement as I knew there wouldn't likely be much time to devote to such frivolous things as weddings until Erebor was more stable, both structurally and politically.
One evening I was stopped by a page just as I was finishing up my last meal of the day. The young dwarf (who was likely older than I) tentatively handed me a scroll, yet when I unrolled it I was somewhat perplexed to see it was written in runes. The page was already some paces gone, but I hastily chased him down and then asked him to read it out to me. He took the scroll with a frown and studied it for a moment before explaining that a messenger had arrived under an hour ago heralding the first incoming caravan from the Blue Mountains, to be expected the next morning. As many of the dignitaries and well-to-do families were travelling with said caravan, King Dain humbly requested that all (surviving) members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield be present to welcome the arrivals at an assemblage in the entry hall, and were thereafter invited to sit at a head table during the subsequent feast that evening.
I remembered Bilbo showing me the copy of his contract with the dwarves once, and I could now see that their scribes had a tendency towards over-complicating their documents. Still, as much as I wanted to apologize to the poor dwarf for him having to read me all the fine print, I thought a more formal response would be better suited. I cleared my throat, and then gave it my best shot as he quickly fished out a quill and ink bottle to write my reply.
"Please inform King Dain Ironfoot that it would be my honour to attend the arrival of said dignitaries, and that I will be doing so in the company of my intended, Bofur, also a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. We would also be delighted to partake of the... festivities... that night." I cut the formalities short, as the dwarf was looking as though he would fling himself into the nearest forge if he was forced to listen to another high-borne noble prattle on in such a self-conceited fashion.
"I'm sorry." I stated hurriedly, "Yes on both counts. Thank you for your time."
He smiled a sardonic, but somewhat thankful grin while marking a quick note on the back of the invitation, and then he rushed off without a backwards glance.
I had asked Balin to knock on my door early the next morning (I knew his duties often had him rising before dawn) so that I'd have time to achieve some semblance of presentable before the caravan arrived. I lamented over the very few articles of clothing I owned, resigning myself to again wear the dress Méra had fashioned for me, and then I tried to pull my hair into some semblance of dignity worthy of such esteemed dwarves. What I really, truly did the whole time, though, was fret. I was worried about making a good first impression on Dís in particular. As the mother and sister of some of the only friends I ever had in my adult life, I wanted to be worthy in her eyes, and to honour the choice of her sons in trusting and befriending me even when there had been nothing compelling them to do so but the goodness of their own hearts.
When Bofur and I reached the entry hall, we joined the rest of the company members to one side of Dain and his family. Across from us, Dain's advisors and military leaders were starting to take on some familiarity as we all faced off with each other at every formal occasion. Méra waved at me from the king's side, where she and her mother were both sporting new dresses for the occasion - naturally. I waved back, feeling somewhat self-conscious in my reused attire. I noticed Barís glance at her husband and then begin to fuss with his beard, which made me smile a little.
"I look fine, woman, leave me be!" Dain admonished loudly enough for most of the hall to hear. The queen proceeded to adjust his crown anyway.
Once we were all in position, the procession from the Blue Mountains was ushered in with a great fanfare of horns and drums, one that no doubt turned curious heads all the way in Dale. To the credit of the travel-weary dwarves, I couldn't recall ever seeing a more regal entrance as the lavishly dressed leaders of the caravan made their way into the hall. At the forefront of a larger group of more reasonably dressed travellers that filed in thereafter, was a woman who was unmistakable as a princess of the line of Durin - sister and cousin to kings, mother to princes.
Dís.
She made her way to Dain first, exchanging what I expected to be all the formal greetings of their people in Khuzdul. I wondered if they had been made aware of my presence in the mountain - if so, the fact that they also freely used their language in my midst gave me hope that they might be more accepting of it. Once finished being greeted by the King, each member of the procession was expected to pay their respects to the companions of Thorin, which led very quickly to the encounter I had been nervously anticipating for weeks.
I tried to subtly observe her as she began down the line, feeling my hands becoming clammy with anxiety.
She looked like Thorin. Though it was styled, she had the same long, wavy black hair as he, tastefully streaked with a few strands of grey showcasing her wisdom, and her hardships. She also bore the same straight nose, longer and more refined than most dwarves, which gave her an air of regality. She carried herself similarly to Thorin as well. She knew she was a leader, though she also knew she had to deserve the title, and so walked proudly but as if with a weight on her shoulders. Some of her features, however, reminded me distinctly of Fili and I was slightly entranced, yet also saddened, by her eyes - Kili's eyes.
I watched in sorrow as she came to Dwalin, who dropped to his knees in anguish in front of her. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and spoke a few words to him - though I could not understand what she said, but before she could finish he interrupted her, shaking his head before abruptly getting up and striding away from the assembly. Dís frowned but could do nothing more and so she carried on with the formalities.
"Dís. My condolences." Bofur began in Westron after the dwarrowdam had finished speaking with Dori. He placed his hand on his chest, bowing his head respectfully before resting his hand on her upper arm for a moment.
"Ah. Bofur. How do you fare?" she asked, flawlessly picking up on the cue to switch between languages.
"Quite well... considering. May I introduce my intended?" Bofur grabbed my hand and guided me forward a step, telling Dís my name and a quick synopsis of how we had met.
"Bofur, do you mean intended as in betrothed?" she questioned, cutting him off. Her eyes darted to me only for an instant before she looked back to Bofur, who nodded and assured her that she was correct in understanding him.
Dís raised a hand to her forehead. "I hoped you had misspoke in the common speech." she said incredulously though her expression was stern. Her next words were sterner. "Bofur, you have had your time with your One. As have I. There is nothing after."
"There was something for me." Bofur replied, his fingers tightening around mine reassuringly. I tried to step somewhat behind him again as Dís glared at us. Kili's eyes had never been so contemptuous and I found the look did not suit. With a slight shake of her head she moved to carry on.
"If you'll excuse me, I must see if this kingdom is worth the lives of my sons and brother." she said rather scathingly before stepping away and leaving us both rather speechless in her wake.
I made my excuses and left Bofur's side rather quickly. I was put off by the entire caravan arrival ceremony and felt rather isolated in my hurt feelings since I, alone, had to endure the sceptical, even hostile, looks and curt treatment. No... that was not quite true. Bofur was under rather rough scrutiny as well because of his relationship with me. I was ashamed that I was the cause of any ill treatment towards him, he certainly did not deserve it, and yet he never complained, never seemed to let it bother him... and that fact made me feel selfish since I indulged myself in ill-moods whereas he remained optimistic and cheerful.
I decided I just needed to take my mind off things and so I changed into my work clothes and then headed to the area my team and I had left off on yesterday. I rejoined my fellow workers and we had barely started on a new room when Méra suddenly burst into our midst.
"She's taking the day off. King's orders." she commanded loudly as she quickly veered around the upturned furniture towards me. She grabbed hold of my arm and began to pull me along behind her before I could even put down my broom. I hastily dropped it, shooting my co-workers an apologetic glance, just before she yanked me back through the room's exit.
"I've finished it!" she stated excitedly once we were in the hallway, letting go of my arm and carrying on at a slower pace.
It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to but once I did I smiled. "Great timing. I think I'll need it for tonight."
"Exactly my thoughts!" Méra said happily as we walked."It's going to be a great feast, and there might even be dancin'!"
"Where are we going anyway?" I enquired after a moment, now unfamiliar with our surroundings.
"To get you ready." Méra told me, and continued to guide me.
"It'll take the whole day?" I asked sceptically.
Méra nodded enthusiastically. "Plus you're in for a real treat! I pulled some strings, asked a few favours, you know, so now we have leave to use the King's Bath for the day. You'll love it!"
I glanced at Méra about to ask why, but she continued chatting away.
"Dwarves have been thought to be unsanitary because we live under the earth, but really we do have the nicest bathroom facilities in Middle Earth. Our hot water is piped up from the deep underground mineral springs and, well you know, we have perfectly functioning plumbing. The King's Bath - it's in the heart of the mountain - is carved of the purest marble, polished to a shine, and it's huge, you'll see. The acoustics are fantastic; I do all my best singing there, you know."
I couldn't tell if she was serious or joking about the last part, but before I could ask anything further we had turned out onto a bridge of stone suspended between rows of goliath dwarven statues. I looked down over the edge, and sure enough we were above the deep expanse of Erebor. Ahead of us, the bridge came to an intersection, and at the intersection there was the profile of a throne, badly scarred during the dragon's occupation, facing off in what I guessed to be the direction of Erebor's entrance. I was curious, but before we even reached the intersection Méra veered off down a set of stairs.
"Come on, we'll take the servant's entrance - much faster."
We travelled down a narrow hallway, passing kitchens and storerooms on either side, until finally we took a branching corridor into a small plumbing chamber where I could hear water flowing through in a series of metal pipes.
"The water from the springs is too hot, so we mix it with water from the aquifers... hopefully it isn't still too hot for your delicate human skin though." She jibed, before carrying on into the King's Baths.
I looked about in awe as we entered a vaulted chamber. Its walls and ceiling were hewn from the glossy marble and intricately carved, set with silver, gold, and mosaics of rich gems. I gaped down at what wasn't so much a bath, but a large, beautiful pool of steaming water set into the floor. It could probably seat at least thirty people around the edge, with enough room in the middle to float a Laketown barge. I noticed a design of gold filigree patterning the edges of the pool, and as we drew closer I noticed that the basin was decorated just as lavishly as the rest of the room.
"Thought we could have a spa-day." Méra said happily after allowing me a moment to look around. "No human has ever been in here, I reckon. Even I usually have to use a separate pool with the other royal ladies."
I stood awkwardly for a few minutes as Méra went to gather supplies.
"Now, I know humans have some odd traditions, but I don't reckon you bathe with your clothes on." Méra called from across the pool, noting my reluctance to do anything.
She returned with a pair of thick towels in one arm and a tray of brushes, scrubbers and soaps in the other. She hung the towels on one of the many hooks nearby and set the tray at the water's edge before beginning to gather up her hair into some semblance of order. Meanwhile, I struggled past my self-consciousness and began to remove my outer layer of clothing. After all, Méra had already seen me in my undergarments before to take measurements.
"If I get any of this wet it'll take ages to dry." Méra remarked as she worked at tying back her curls. I took advantage of her distraction to quickly finish disrobing and make for the bath. Any hopes of getting in quickly, though, were dashed the second my toe touched the water - it was hot.
It took some getting used to, slowly inching myself further into the water until finally I lowered myself onto the edge of the pool, and was pleasantly surprised to find that rather than freezing my bottom off in contrast to the water temperature, the stones were quite warm.
"Is the floor heated somehow?" I asked as a stall tactic to allow my legs more time to adjust.
"The hot water coming into the pool takes a wee bit of a detour through pipes just beneath the tile before it mixes with the cold." Méra explained while splashing down a set of stairs into the deeper part of the pool with much less pomp and circumstance than I thought the King's Bath deserved.
I spent the next ten minutes acclimatizing to the bath water. Thankfully Méra, though often outspoken and honest to a fault, seemed to be quite well-mannered in this setting, not seeming to scrutinize my body and often keeping her gaze politely averted unless she was speaking to me. After just relaxing for a span of time, I was tossed a bar of soap and so began to wash up.
"Use this shampoo, it smells amazing." Méra instructed, slowly wandering up to me. "Then use this afterward and let it sit for a few minutes before rinsing." She handed me two small glass bottles and respectively pointed them out.
I followed her instructions; the liquid shampoo was pleasantly fragrant and was much easier to lather throughout my hair than the hard bar soap I was used to, and the conditioning mixture then left my strands feeling clean and smooth.
I returned the bottles to the tray and inspected the other implements the young dwarf had brought. Much to my surprise, I found a razor and a bar of shaving soap, which I asked if I could use.
"I thought human women didn't need to shave." Méra observed.
"It's for my legs." I stated with a flaky smile, unsure at how she would react to my exclusively human hygiene routine.
Her eyebrows shot up but she made no objection, so I brought the soap and blade over towards the stairs where I could sit partially submerged.
After I began, Méra became increasingly fidgety and I could tell she was trying hard not to stare at me. After finishing one leg I took pity on her and tried to explain that it was just a common habit as most human men preferred their women to have smooth legs and underarms - and women were so used to doing it that many, myself included, would find it rather odd to let it all grow out.
"And Bofur likes that, does he?" Méra asked with a smirk.
I glanced towards her with a grin. "Doesn't matter. Bofur and I are still just 'courting', so of course we don't see each other inappropriately... just chaperoned hand-holding and polite conversation."
Méra rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh but didn't meddle further.
After another rinse I was feeling far too hot and gratefully left the water, grabbing a towel and handing one to Méra as she exited as well.
After donning my clothes, Méra handed me a large-toothed comb to untangle my wet hair.
"Have you been to the Western guardroom since I last brought you there?" she asked as she did up the laces on her dress.
I shook my head. "No, I haven't been without you... Why?"
"Ganin told me he thought some of the weapons had gone missing." she replied.
I shot her a look. "But it's still blocked from the inside."
"I know. That's why it's strange, really." she stated. "But anywho, I couldn't picture you climbing back up that rope ladder, hauling a bunch of heavy weapons out, and I always keep the ones I use stored there. I was hoping the room would stay our secret for a tad longer, but if someone else has found it, they'll be plannin' to unblock it next."
I frowned but could offer no possible explanation; perhaps her instructor had been mistaken, that guardroom was still just a mess.
We chatted idly a bit longer while my hair dried, and then paused as we both heard a rapping on the door. Méra jumped up to go open it.
"That'll be the reinforcements." she said auspiciously.
She returned with another dwarrowdam in tow who had black hair that must have been quite long for the braids that looped around her forehead and down around her ears. She glanced around the room briefly, making me assume she was of higher class and hence not as shocked and impressed with the splendid architecture as I was.
"This is Kari, my other friend. She's better at hair." Méra said, gesturing towards the young dwarf woman.
"Hair?" I repeated as a question.
"You said you wanted to look more dwarven." Méra explained with a grin. "And so a good hairstyle is key."
I had only really wanted a dwarven-esque dress, but didn't bother to correct her. It would have been rude to have Kari take time out of her day to meet us, only to then tell her she wasn't actually needed, so I just kept my expression neutral and introduced myself. Besides, I mused, Bofur might enjoy it.
Kari greeted me casually then stepped up closer to eye my hair speculatively.
"Is this how it lays naturally?" she asked, making an odd face as she experimentally picked up a section of my hair and observed as she let it go.
"Yes." I murmured.
"Oh. Well this should be a challenge." She sighed, picking up another straight strand almost distastefully. "Nice colour though." she added as an afterthought, perhaps to try to make me feel better.
I was guided to an antechamber with what I imagined was a typical nobleman's set-up for daily preparation: an ornate vanity was carved out of the rock, veins of gold and rubies glittering on its polished surface. One of the largest looking-glasses I had ever seen reflected our images back at us, flanked by two lanterns burning a brilliant bright light that outlined my face almost too precisely, making me feel slightly self conscious. Brushes and shears and combs were neatly arranged on the countertop, and an embellished chair awaited the room's intended recipient. I was so in awe of the set up that it took me a moment to realize that Kari had gone to the opposite side of the room, and was now working at what for all the world looked to be a combination between a small forge and a set of torturing tools. I voiced this observation to Méra.
"Aye, don't they look frightening?" she commented while guiding me to sit in the chair. "Durin's beard, am I glad I've never had to use 'em."
"You've never...? What is it all for, exactly?" I asked hesitantly.
"For curling hair! I've never quite had that problem, mind." She fretted at her own tumbles of hair in the mirror with a bit of a frown. "Ah - this is a tame day for me, truth be told." she added. "You should see the filth I need to put in it on the days when it's misbehavin' - that's the real torture."
Kari approached after a few moments wheeling a small cart, on which was a large iron bowl full of glowing red-hot solid metal cylinders, and basket of hollow steel tubes that were adorned with tiny spikes along the outer surface.
"Good luck!" Méra piqued in with a small laugh after seeing my nervous expression.
Kari, who was wearing a thick leather glove on one hand, took a section of my hair and wound it around one of the tubes, its prickly texture allowing it to hold into my hair on its own. After it was in place, she grabbed a pair of tongs, picked up a cylinder of heated metal and carefully placed it inside the hollow tube now affixed precariously close to my scalp. I desperately hoped she had a steady-hand, yet she proved herself capable, finishing the rest of my hair without managing to give me a second-degree burn.
I was mostly ignored as the hot rollers cooled, while Méra and her friend exchanged stories about another dwarf I did not know. Finally, just as my head was beginning to become unbearably sore from holding up so much extra weight, Kari got up and came to remove them.
I watched my reflection with interest as my hair, previously sporting just the slightest wave, was released and loopy curls now fell just past my shoulders. I was surprised I quite enjoyed the look of them. My hair appeared a lot more voluminous and every small movement of my head caused the curls to bounce about rather happily.
"Are we done?" I asked, moving to stand up only to be pushed back down onto the chair by my shoulders.
"We've barely begun." Kari said with a huff, and with that she spun the chair around so I could no longer watch the progress in the mirror.
After over an hour of some of the worst agony my scalp had ever endured as my hair was excessively back-combed, tugged on, tightly braided and generally abused, Kari dropped her hands and let out an exasperated breath.
"It's the best I can do." Kari said, stepping round to face me and inspect her work. She nodded once and called Méra forward to come look.
"Not bad." Méra said, smiling and nodding as well. "Actually quite good considering..."
"May I see now?" I asked as politely as I could, though I was becoming rather cross since the roots of my hair now felt very tender.
"Not yet." Méra said irately, bustling to grab a leather satchel which she overturned on the counter.
I then was ordered to sit as still as I could manage while they applied a variety of cosmetic concoctions to my face - not as easy task when Méra began trying to work around my eyes, causing them to instantly water, especially when she was accidentally nudged by Kari and proceeded to jab my eyeball with a small brush. I yelped and recoiled, my hand over my eye.
"Sorry! But stop now! You're going to ruin what we've done already!" Méra half-shouted, tugging my hand back down and forcing me to sit proper once more.
Finally, after what seemed another hour, and vowing to myself that I would never agree to another makeover again, they were done their cosmetic torture and Méra rushed to grab the dress.
Méra insisted I put it on before I could turn around and look at my reflection. Little did I know of the complicated process that was involved in simply donning a new dress.
It first consisted of changing into white leggings and a short underdress Méra had sewn for me as well, this one sleeveless and made of a thick cotton. Then I was fitted into a rigid corset. I felt the air being squeezed from my lungs as I was ruthlessly laced up by Kari. She tugged until I was stiff as a board in the midsection and I knew I wouldn't be able to manage too deep of breaths. Then Méra tied an oddly structured skirt about my waist. I was intrigued to see that at four intervals going down the skirt was a very thin, springy length of wire sewn right into the circumference in order to hold its full shape open. Finally I stepped into the dress itself. It was heavy. And bulky. Yet the craftsmanship was stunning. The fabric was more than I could have hoped for, a golden rose colour with a slight lustre to it in the candlelight. After holding it up and getting laced up, Méra spun me around to see the final result.
For a moment I was stunned into silence, almost overwhelmed, so I started with the dress.
There was a trim of delicate pleated fabric running around the collar, over the shoulders and down along the stomacher into a point at the base of the bodice just below where the hem of the skirt began. This decorative ruching helped form an upturned triangle shape, made more prominent by the stomacher itself - which was a separate, triangular panel of a more ornate, patterned fabric sewn onto the dress front in order to guide the eye into seeing the waist at its smallest, just above the hips. I was pleasantly surprised by the effect the corset had on my figure, my waist looked much smaller and my cleavage more ample. The neckline of the dress was cut low and straight across, just above where the corset lay, and the sleeves ended just past my elbows in a fancy ruffling of frilly fabric. The bottom of the dress was comprised of a few layers of overlapping fabric, but because of my gravity defying underskirt, it flared out perfectly from all angles. The top layer of material formed a bit of a bustle over my rear and on each side of my hips to further create the illusion of a much fuller form below my very cinched waist.
I took a few tentative steps forward, feeling rather unsure. The dress was, truly, beautiful, though I felt somewhat unwieldy and worried I would accidentally begin knocking stuff over with my ample skirt.
Then there was my face. I barely recognized it. My eyes were bold. They had been lined with black liquid charcoal along the lash line, and a light brown powder had been applied to my lids. Even my eyebrows had been slightly darkened and sculpted to look more arched. My skin tone had been evened out and my cheekbones emphasized. And my lips... my sultry, pouty, plump lips. How they got them to look that way, I could not be sure. I remember them fussing around my mouth but had mostly been trying to tune them out by that point.
My hair I had to study for a good long moment, and even then I wasn't sure I quite liked it at all. It didn't look bad, per say, but it was so glaringly different than anything I'd ever attempted to even try with my own hair, and I wasn't sure I could pull off the radically new style. It was pulled away from my face in two smaller braids above my ears where they added to numerous other braids that hung in symmetric loops down about either side of my neck. At the crown of my skull a large section of my hair was constructed into an elaborate bun while the remaining portion of my hair hung loose in curls down my back. It definitely imitated a true dwarven hairstyle and only looked slightly off because my hair was just not near as thick as theirs. And though I was still too tall and lacked the plump curves, the whole new image of myself did, in fact, look quite dwarven.
"Well?" Méra asked slowly after a few good minutes of silence.
I smiled apologetically as I glanced at her in the mirror. "It's exactly what I wanted." I said, carefully turning to face her in person. I placed my hands down over the dress; I had never worn something so elaborate, or expensive. "It's beautiful." I added, but Méra caught me biting my lip.
"What's wrong with it?" she asked suddenly, stepping forward and inspecting some of the details.
"Nothing." I assured her quickly. "I just wonder..." I hesitated, quickly glancing at Kari who remained stone-faced. Méra urged me on.
"Is it appropriate for someone like me to wear something like this?" I asked. "I don't want to be giving myself airs, walking about in something unfit for someone of my... station."
Méra snorted and tossed her hair back. "Station? We're all equals here." She grinned but still I looked at her rather seriously and she sighed. "You're fine." she assured. "There's no rules for fashion here. Plus it's not anything much fancier than what even some of the lower class wives are wearing."
I nodded, finally placated with her answer. The dress just seemed ultra-fancy on me since I was usually wearing dirty, ripped work clothing hardly a stone's throws better than what a beggar would wear. Now that I thought about it, I did recall that almost every dwarrowdam I'd yet seen had been wearing clothing I thought befitting of royalty.
"Well!" Méra clapped her hands together once and smiled brightly. "I think you're ready. Let's bring you out and release you into society where I can watch you blossom!"
I tried to convince Méra to let me hide out until the feast was set to begin, but she would have none of it, forcing me out of the absolute privacy of the King's Bath and into the increasingly busy halls of the Erebor main.
"I want to show you off myself. I put in most of the work after all." she admonished after bidding Kari farewell and doggedly linking her arm through mine to prevent escape.
I got more than a few stares as we passed by a gathering of dwarves not far from the throne room. I wasn't quite sure if they were much different than the stares I had been receiving pre-makeover, which was slightly concerning since the whole point was to try to blend in.
As we neared the King's Hall, typically one of the busiest areas, mostly due to its large, open size and proximity to the entrance, I was surprised that we had not yet run into anyone I particularly knew, for which I was somewhat thankful. Yet when we entered the hall I inadvertently stopped in my tracks at the sight of a familiar form - a form that happened to be very easy to spot due to a certain height inconsistency.
"Oh no." I mumbled, trying to quickly veer Méra in a different direction altogether. She, however, took that as a cue to stop dead in her tracks and begin to speak very loudly.
"What is it?" she spouted, drawing most, if not all, of the eyes in the immediate vicinity right to us. Then, she spotted the cause of my distress and stifled an amused snort at my ill-luck.
The figure that I had hoped to avoid in my current state, Bard of all people, someone with whom I wished to maintain a good and relatively professional relationship, inevitably turned and spotted us. His brow creased in confusion, however, and it took him a moment of deliberation before finally approaching us. I knew I was blushing even before he stopped in front of us.
"I barely recognized you." he stated as his eyes quickly took in my hair, my stylized dress and my excessively done-up face, before darting to the dwarrowdam I was arm-in-arm with.
"Ah, have you met Méra?" I asked, trying to remember my manners despite how embarrassed I suddenly felt.
Bard tried to grin. "Ah, yes, the King's daughter. Always an honour." he said to her before looking back to me and creasing his forehead once more. I could tell he felt quite at a loss of what to say next - who wouldn't be in the presence of a princess and a human dressed up as a dwarf?
"Would you mind excusing us for a moment." I asked Méra, who nodded and thankfully let me loose. Bard looked slightly more comfortable after she had departed.
"It seems you are fitting in quite well." he noted, and I grimaced slightly despite myself.
"I don't always look-" I began, indicating to my dress. "-just something I'm trying for tonight..." I trailed off exceedingly awkwardly, then I realized that awkwardness and this new look likely didn't go well together. If I was ever going to pull it off, I would need to play the part. I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders, indicating for Bard to walk with me.
"What brings you to the mountain? Are you here for the festivities later?" I asked more confidently as we fell into step together in the direction he had been originally going.
"Ah. No. There's been another collapse. More severe this time." He stated while heading like a man on a mission towards the mountain's core. He was so caught up in his task that while he spoke I risked craning my neck around best I could, without risking my hair style, to see Méra stalking along behind us with a large mischievous grin on her face. I shot her a glare and then looked back to Bard, who caught the tail end of my expression and must have taken it for dismay.
"No one was hurt, we have that much to be thankful for. Just a storeroom, but one that held a great deal of provisions brought to us by the Elves. Much has been lost. I am here to take up the matter with Dain, and to see if the dwarves might help bolster our supplies until the next Elven caravan arrives."
He abruptly stopped at the end of the entry hall, turning around in time to catch Méra wildly ducking behind a pillar with a whoop. I could tell he saw her, since his puzzled expression flickered between her hiding spot for a moment then back to me, before he excused himself.
"I won't keep you any longer - it is good to see you are well, and managing to... acclimate... here in Erebor." With that he looked up once more as my so-called friend made her way towards us. He regarded her in all her energetic glory for a moment, then looked to me with his jaw hanging slightly open before nodding once and striding off, clearly feeling slightly out of place in the presence of such positive high-strung energy.
Méra flounced back to my side with a smile while I stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.
"Did he like your new look?" she asked, blatantly ignoring my irritation.
"I think he thought it was weird." I replied. "And you certainly weren't helping matters." I scolded.
I spent the better part of the next hour being toted around the mountain, with my best attempts at going un-noticed continually being thwarted by Méra. In that short span of time, and in such a vast space as Erebor, I managed to run into half the company in half a dozen different places. We came across Bombur promptly after Bard, and while he stared at me slack jawed for a moment, he maintained his silence. Óin seemed more interested in my health and recovery than in my appearance, which he seemed reluctant to mention at all. Gloin scoffed and rolled his eyes, which was as close to a laugh as I thought I might ever get from him. Dwalin, as silent as ever, frowned at me from where he had been sharpening one of his axes, and shortly after that Balin complimented the effort, though seemed somewhat distant with his praise.
Ori was the next and, to my relief, final dwarf I recognized on our tour of the mountain. He was labouring under a pile of heavy old tomes, and didn't see us until we were standing directly in front of him. I called out a greeting, and he jumped in such surprise that the books flung into the air. With uncanny agility, the young dwarf managed to catch all but one, which Méra in her own dwarvish grace managed to snatch just before it hit the ground. She returned it to the top of the pile, which Ori now blushed over.
"They've made me the royal scribe..." he explained with some reluctance. "While we were travelling, I kept notes. I showed them to Balin, who showed them to the king, and now they've asked me to write about the battle and what's happened after." He sounded somewhat overwhelmed with the task, and I couldn't blame him. Writing about the madness and death of Thorin would need to be handled with the utmost delicacy. It was only once he got his books readjusted that he looked - truly looked - at who he was talking to again. His eyes widened, and he stuttered out an apology to excuse himself.
"I need to be... to get... somewhere."
I assured him that it was alright, and as soon as he was out of earshot I turned to Méra.
"Do I look that bad?" I was growing suspicious about the reactions of the company, but she refused to believe the makeover was anything other than an outrageous success. I thanked her for the reassurance, but was growing increasingly tired with being the centre of attention. I made my own excuses to finally part company with Méra until the feast, who pouted with mock-severity before heading off to catch up to Ori.
"I should help the poor lad before he kills someone with those dusty old books."
Finally I was back in the privacy of my rooms and slowly began to relax as I was no longer under the scrutinizing public eye.
I walked over to the mirror to recheck my appearance. Again I was not used to it, and almost did not like it based strictly on the unfamiliarity. After a moment, though, I began to appreciate that the dress did, in fact, look good. The rosy gold sheen of the fabric complimented my hair and skin tone, and the shape of it greatly emphasizing what few curves I did possess (if only with a lot of help from the corset, the large layered skirt and the bustle).
I was left no further time for reflection as I heard a light rapping on my door, and while I had already endured more public encounters than I cared for with the new look, I was completely unprepared for the inexplicable assault of nerves I suddenly felt at the prospect of facing Bofur. I hesitated, now a ball of nervous energy because I had decided to drastically experiment with my appearance on such an important evening. I had no idea how he would react. I licked my lips when he knocked a second time. Worst case scenario he would be offended by my attempts to mimic the styles of his people... he might even think I was mocking him.
Bofur called out my name as a question, and I found my worries melting away just upon hearing his voice. I took a deep breath, forced my body to relax, and then went to unlock the door. Even he had dressed up slightly, choosing to omit his characteristic hat and scarf for once, and instead sporting his hair down in loose curls like I preferred it.
When he saw me, his eyebrows lifted up in genuine surprise, his mouth opening slightly. For once, the quick-witted silver tongued dwarf seemed tongue-tied.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked calmly, trying to keep what little confidence I had mustered from deflating.
Fortunately for my pride, Bofur recovered quickly and stepped inside, placing his hands on my arms and looking me over once again, this time with a smile.
"You look stunning." he appraised after a moment, and then took a step back, formally taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.
My face lit up and I pulled him into a hug, relief flowing through me and relaxing my body. He hugged me back, although gently as if he was worried he might break me. At least I wasn't the only one unaccustomed to such lavish vestments.
"Shall we?" he asked after releasing me, holding out his arm. I nodded, feeling slightly better this time about attending a formal event.
As we approached our seats and I noticed the head tables now included a large number of the new arrivals. Dís was seated beside Barís, and both the royal ladies looked stunning. I noticed Méra, on her father's other side, sported a new jewelled circlet, but other than that her hair remained rather free.
"Oh, there's someone you should meet." Bofur said, tugging me over to a pillar where a group of dwarves were socializing. I noticed Bombur amidst them, with a heavily pregnant dwarven lady lightly holding onto his arm. They turned to us as we joined the circle. She had perfect, almond skin and lovely, warm grey eyes, creased with laugh lines. Bofur presented me as his betrothed, telling the woman my name. Surprisingly she released Bombur and stepped forward, grabbing onto my hands.
"Might I introduce my delightful sister-in-law, Melvna." Bofur announced as she beamed at me.
"I am so happy to meet you, my dear." she said when Bofur was finished. "Bombur has already spoken of some of your deeds and I'm simply fascinated. I do hope we can become friends, as well as family."
I smiled, taken aback by her kind sincerity. "Of course." I replied, somewhat at a loss of what else to say. Fortunately she beckoned two younger dwarves forward, releasing my hands and stepping aside to introduce them.
"I'd also like you to meet our daughters, Bavona and Balvira. And of course we have another one on the way, though I do believe this one is a son." she continued, placing a hand lovingly on her large stomach. "Poor Bombur didn't even know I was expecting, but I couldn't exactly send a letter, now could I? That's why I insisted on coming with the first faction. It was a faster pace than I'd normally wish to travel, especially considering... but I just couldn't stand the thought of him missing the birth."
The twins were courteous enough but they were not as practiced at hiding their curiosity so they outright stared at me with uncertainty after the introductions. Bavona had a smattering of freckles across her nose and her father's ginger colour hair, though it was braided into a large bun at the back of her head. Balvira, however, had her mother's sandy brown hair, and it was stylized into a plait that hung over her left shoulder. It was difficult for me to judge their age, but in human years they looked to be in their pre-teens.
"Darlings, don't be rude." Melvna scolded lightly, shushing her daughters away when she noticed them continuing to appraise me. "I apologize dear, it's been a long journey and they must have forgotten their manners along the way. It isn't as if they've never seen a human before. You must be terribly weary of being stared at."
I assured her it was alright and then Dain stood up, announcing that the feast was ready to begin as soon as everyone took their seats. I was happy to be seated between Bofur and Melvna, who continued to make light conversation until Dain began his announcements.
"He's welcoming us Blue Mountain dwarves, and commemorating the return of some of the original inhabitants of Erebor that had been displaced when the dragon first took the mountain." Melvna whispered politely to me, relieving Bofur of his usual translating duties. "Now he's telling everyone when to expect the rest of the procession, they will likely arrive at first melt, if not sooner, depends on the winter weather really... and now he's just going over some dull topics, such as living arrangements, work duties and the like, nothing you have to concern yourself with."
I whispered my thanks and allowed myself to daze off until the food was to be brought forth. I was finding it hard, however, to really relax in the ensemble I was wearing. The rigid bodice kept me from slouching at all, and I had to limit myself to somewhat shallow breaths compared to what I was used to. I also couldn't yawn properly, which I found exceedingly irritating as I was becoming quite sleepy after listening to a drone of Khuzdul for the better part of an hour. Finally I saw the servers carrying out the platters, and I was thankful tonight to be at the head table which was always served first.
The meal was as lavish as it could be considering that Erebor had to be storing food for winter, and that we'd already had lengthy and expensive feasting in honour of Thorin's memory and Dain's coronation. I expected the dwarves, however, would be happy simply being served ale and some manner of salted meat, though we were also presented with cooked potatoes, eggs, rice and pickled carrots, plus sweet apple breads with honey for dessert.
Once through, we were directed into the golden floor of the Gallery of Kings, where a few sporadic tables were organized along the sides but the majority of the area was left open for mingling, and, as Méra had predicted, dancing. A small stage had been erected at the head of the gallery on which a few musicians ambled onto and began tuning up their instruments. In the meantime, we idly wandered, Bofur making introductions where necessary. I met Gloin's wife, who was rather beautiful, though she had an impressive beard that was pulled back and incorporated into her hair style. She seemed opposite of Gloin in countenance, however, being quick to laugh and rather bawdy. I also met their son, Gimli, who was in his father's image.
The music began playing soon after, though it seemed most of the crowd wasn't quite ready to take to dancing.
"Bombur's wife is really nice." I commented quietly as Bofur and I left a group of dwarves that seemed rather less nice at having to make pleasantries in common and interact with a human.
"Oh aye, she's a gem, she is." Bofur replied. "You can always go to her if you ever need anything. She loves to mother people."
As we were making our way to a table to refresh our drinks, a younger dwarrowdam stepped into our path. She had tan skin and plump red lips, along with some of the longest hair I'd yet seen on a dwarf woman. It was nearly black in colour and, though many braids looped over her head in a mesmerizing style, the free portion of her hair hung in long ringlets that fell below her waist. Her outfit suggested she was relatively middle class - as though she sported decorative ornamentations of various gems, her dress was not much better quality than my own. Her bearing, however, was somewhat snobbish and I got the impression that she thought very highly of herself.
"Bofur." she smiled, dipping her head for a moment then looking back up to him. "I hope that you will promise me a dance?"
I thought I noticed Bofur tense up slightly, yet he remained affable when he responded.
"Of course." he replied, then he looked to me a moment before clearing his throat. "Ah, this is Rida." he continued, gesturing towards the dwarrowdam, and then he rather awkwardly introduced me.
She barely seemed to glance at me, but her eyebrows shot up when she heard the word 'intended.' I thought saw a distinct flash of anger cross her features before she caught herself and turned to me with a small smile.
"Delighted." she said, dipping in a tiny curtsy. She then excused herself, though not before flashing Bofur a more genuine smile and vowing to find him later for the dance. As she reached the far side of the party, I noticed a group of similarly aged dwarrows swarm around her like bees to their queen, but before I could see what came of it - the gossip that Bofur was engaged to be wed to a human woman - Bofur was already introducing me to the next new faces, and so I was forced to smile and make small talk as though nothing was amiss.
Dancing started up in earnest shortly thereafter. The musicians, now amply warmed up, struck up a lively tune that must have borne some significance, as almost in unison couples excused themselves from whatever conversations they were involved in and made their way onto the dance floor. The first dance was structured yet sweeping in its motions as partners glided around each other, fleetingly touching arms and hands and turning in time. And though their proportions were so different from humans, they danced the dance with such a rugged elegance that even the human kings of old would have been charmed.
"We could join them, if you like..." Bofur offered, after watching me watch them for a moment while he sipped from a mug of ale. I was quick to decline, however, as the last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself getting involved in a dance I didn't know the steps to. He didn't press the matter, but instead set his drink down as the song drew to an end.
"You'll like the next one, I wager." He remarked lightly, and I couldn't help but wonder if this next dance would be less formal. Many of the particularly well-dressed couples retreated, and yet they were replaced by more than double their number, though these next dancers were less regal. What they lacked in elegance, though, they made up for in spirit, for several seemed to be well into their cups already as they jostled out onto the golden dance floor.
The music started slowly, a single flute sounding out the first few mystical notes, and as the dancers formed a haphazard ring I noticed a lone pair of dwarves in the centre. One was a dwarf I did not recognize, young and strong and quick on his feet. The other was a dwarrowdam that I wasn't surprised at all had found her way into the centre of attention.
"Méra - figures." I mumbled with a wry smile.
The flutist continued his slow revere, and Méra and her companion began a slow, whirling dance within the centre of the circle. As they moved, Bofur explained.
"Ancient legend tells of one Durin the Sixth's younger sons falling in love with a beautiful dwarrowdam from another kingdom, but her heart would not be swayed by love, nor great wealth. Not even the prince's family name could convince her of his worth. What's more, his father would not have their family line crossed with the likes of another clan..."
As he spoke, their actions reflected their motions - the 'prince' tried everything to convince Méra to be with him, and Méra, who hardly even had to act at all, refused every advance. As the dwarf moved about, trying to be bold, trying to be friendly, trying to make her laugh, I was suddenly aware of how tight my chest had grown, and not just from the corset.
"Would that have been Kili, or Fili, if…? " I let my question trail off as I looked to Bofur with a frown.
His face fell slightly and he nodded, placing a comforting hand lightly on my back as we both resumed watching. Eventually Bofur continued with his explanation of the story behind the dance.
"The dwarrowdam, believing her life should be put to some use, took up the sword and joined an order of female warriors - something that's long since been extinct. The prince followed her far and wide, despite his father's wishes."
I was somewhat roused from my grieving as the music began to pick up, and more instruments joined in. Obviously, it was building to some sort of climax as Méra and the prince fought invisible battles, moving in wider and wider circles until they skipped about the ring of onlookers, and while everyone else saw the princess simply playing the part of a warrior through dance, I could see that each one of her quick and flowing movements was something Ganin had taught us. As she whirled past us, she caught my eye. She was loving every second of it, and I couldn't help but smile as the contagiousness of her pure elation rubbed off on me.
Then, the music changed again. All the musicians took up their instruments now, playing discordant and rising chords. The dwarves about the circle joined hands, and finally the second stage of the dance took shape. Breaking out into a lively jig, the musicians set to at a frantic pace. Somewhere along the circle, two dwarves parted hands and the whole ring began to follow a single leader, all still linking hands. Méra and her prince skipped away, and with that the chase was on!
"It's a were-worm!" Bofur shouted over the music and the roar of the chain of dancers, who were all excited to get underway. "The dwarrowdam and the prince led it all through the mountains, carving out a kingdom from the stone."
The were-worm chased its quarry about the dance floor, weaving this way and that in pursuit of the merry couple, but eventually even the large space cleared for the dance was not enough, as more and more onlookers were coaxed to join in by linking up with the tail end of the 'creature', and so Méra separated from her partner and coaxed the snake out amidst the tables themselves, winding through onlookers and around the musicians' stage, and even at one point cutting straight through the group of young dwarrowdams that had so far tried their best to seem above the whole affair.
Eventually, she even brought the chain of dwarves right up towards our table, where with a mirthful grin she beckoned us to join before spiriting off again. I pressed into Bofur as the worm wound its way around the table like a giant snake, hoping that by the time the end reached us we would be forgotten, but that was not to be. As the tail approached, I realized my hopes for staying out of the dance dwindled away to nothing, for it was none other than Bavona and Balvira, Bombur's twins, bringing up the rear.
The pair shouted our names, begging us to join in, but Bofur made no immediate move to leave my side. As touching as his sentiment was, that he would not force me into something I did not want, nor leave me no matter how much he might want to, I knew what I had to do, and so resolutely I grabbed his hand in one of mine, and with the other caught Bavona's, and with that we too were pulled into the were-worm dance chain.
The sheer number of dwarves involved made the entire situation such a hazardous spectacle to behold that I could not help but laugh as we wound around the Hall of Kings, but eventually even the slow pace began to wear on me due to the restrictions of my clothing, and so I was relieved when our target led us back onto the dance floor. There, Méra was rejoined by the other dancer, who took over the lead of the were-worm and began to weave us through each-other, back and forth, back and forth, until finally the chain degenerated, hands were dropped to applaud the musicians, and a raucous cheer was raised throughout the hall. I, however, was wholly and entirely focused on catching my breath.
As the dance floor cleared, and Bofur chatted with his nieces, Méra materialized from the crowd, still as spry as ever, though I could see that she had broken a sweat - she really had been giving it her all. She seemed fit to burst with excitement, but before she could even say anything she looked behind me with a curious expression. I turned, and saw that Bofur was no longer speaking with Bavona and Balvira, but Rida, who was laying a hand on Bofur's arm. Bofur seemed just as uncomfortable and perplexed as Méra, to his credit, and he turned to face me right away only to start when he noticed both I and the princess were staring at him.
"Blimey. Ah, Rida would like to cut in..." he mentioned as he moved closer to make the conversation more private, his usual bravado failing him it seemed. Rida stood back where she was, smiling a smile that seemed altogether too sickeningly sweet to be real. She batted her eyelashes at me when I looked over Bofur's shoulder to her.
"It might be best if I just get it over with..." he continued apologetically. I frowned somewhat, but then agreed.
"I don't think I could handle another dance quite yet. Go." I ushered him away as the music started up again, and so he sheepishly went to join his dance partner. I couldn't help but be envious of how they moved together, and how well they looked doing so. It was a dance they both were clearly familiar with. I frowned to myself at seeing Rida's face light up as they closely circled each others, palms touching. I frowned even more when the music picked up and it seemed as if Bofur was beginning to truly enjoy himself as well. Méra drew up beside me.
"I don't like her one bit." she stated, and that was all she had to say on the matter before she changed the subject back to how much fun the dance was.
The festivities went on late into the night, and despite my distaste for ale I managed to drain a few cups to help maintain my confident demeanour. Yet even with my head buzzing happily, by the time we had finished desserts and everyone was mingling up and out of their seats, I couldn't help but reflect on the day.
Dís had been the tip of the iceberg when it came to the dwarves' lack of support in our engagement. If it wasn't a borderline xenophobic opposition to a dwarf-human pairing, it was discomfort in our union after Bofur's previous marriage. The best I realized I could hope for was indifference, and at times I wished that I could disappear with the skill of someone like the hobbit.
The dwarrowdam, Rida, however, seemed to stick close-by, and though she shot sweet smiles at Bofur and laughed at his pleasantries, she ignored me with such obvious effort that it made me feel even more uncomfortable than if she had insulted me outright. Bofur stayed by my side, however, for that I was thankful, and when I expressed a desire to turn in for the night, he agreed and escorted me to my chambers.
"I think you're going to have to come in and help me out of this dress." I said, leaning back against my door after the party was well and truly over. "Honestly," I added with a smile before he could retort. "I cannot undo the ties down the back... unless you'd rather undress me here in the hallway?"
Bofur grinned and moved to open my door. "Not that it would be the first time you've bared yourself to this hallway." he retorted cheekily as we stepped inside.
Though the dress had become near unbearably heavy, and I was desperate to regain the full capacity of my lungs, there was an even more pressing discomfort that I needed to rectify. I sat down lightly on the edge footstool.
"Can you undo my hair first?" I asked when Bofur cast me a quizzical look. He took a few steps towards me.
"You sure? Seems a shame, all that work." Bofur began as he came to stand behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders.
"I can't bear it for any longer, it's really quite uncomfortable." I explained.
I felt Bofur's fingers begin to undo the style and bit by bit I could feel the tension on my scalp begin to diminish. I sighed in relief, my headache lessening already.
Finally the last pinned up tresses were let free, I noticed a few of the smaller braids were still intact, lying amidst the messy curls that now fell over my shoulders.
"Maybe someday you'll become accustomed to the hairstyles of dwarrowdams, or maybe not. You know it doesn't matter to me." Bofur remarked as he ran his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp.
I eventually roused myself and stood up, turning to look at Bofur with a smile.
"I must say, the curls are nice." he added as an afterthought, stepping up to me and attempting to tuck one behind my ear.
"Now, the dress." I said coyly.
"Now the dress." Bofur repeated slowly with a grin. He then slowly spun me around so he could start undoing the lacing. Once it was loose, I carefully stepped out of it and the cage underskirt at the same time.
"I need your help with one more thing." I remarked turning my back to Bofur once more so that he could help me out of the corset. He stepped up to me and swiped my hair over my shoulder, pressing a hot kiss on the back of my neck as his fingers worked at the lacing. It was rather slow work, made slower since Bofur would pause rather frequently to kiss my shoulders or rub his hands along me, so that I was near quivering with anticipation by the time he was through. When I was finally free of the thing I felt oddly weightless and I gratefully took a few deep breaths. I then slowly turned to face Bofur, my body warm and my eyes wanting.
He simply nodded, taking my hand and leading me to bed.
The next morning I woke up early to find that Bofur had snuck out sometime during the night. I frowned, thinking it a very un-gentlemanly thing to do, yet I had my own agenda to attend to that morning anyway so I thought to forgive him. I was eager to take out some of my previous tensions on the mannequins down in the guardroom. Meeting Dís and a few of the other Blue Mountain arrivals had not exactly gone as I would have wished for. I had nursed a small hope that the dwarves from the mountain ranges of Bofur's homeland would all be more like Bofur - and hence more prone to simply accept me with an easy smile and a handshake. More often than not, however, what I got instead was cold stares and forced politeness in conversation - particularly from the dwarrowdams, and that was the best case scenario. Near the end of the evening, Méra had found the chance to whisper in my ear that she would be setting up a training session for the morning and I figured she needed an outlet as well after being on ceremony. Today, I felt, would be a lively session since we both needed to vent.
As I approached the balcony that concealed our access point, I had resigned myself to waiting for Méra to meet me. This was not the first time I had been forced to wait, nor would it be the last. The princess, afterall, had a habit of being either very early or really quite late - but Master Ganin would advise patience in all things.
As I stepped out into the cool winter air, I was grateful for the extra layers I had brought. They would be useless while handling the weapons, but while I waited they would keep out the chill. Unless, of course, I didn't have to wait. I felt I knew enough to do some basic routines on my own so I reasoned I should make better use of my time and begin to warm up until they arrived.
There was something amiss about my surroundings as I made my way to one of the surviving bits of railing and gazed out over the foothills to the West. It took me a moment to realize that our rope ladder, which was usually always pulled up and cached in a small outcropping at the end of the ledge accessible via the balcony, was already lowered. I found this strange, as Méra - despite being impatient at times - had grown accustomed to waiting for me if she arrived first, as she knew I wasn't particularly comfortable climbing down on my own. The fact that they didn't wait this time kindled a fire in me which had me touching down on the windowsill in record time. Perhaps it had been a test to get me to face my fears.
The second red flag was that there were no lanterns lit in the guardroom, nor the sound that training had begun. Perhaps Méra had forgotten the ladder down on her last trip, but that seemed especially unlikely given her strong desire to keep the location secret. Another exercise then? Though, I was hardly afraid of the dark after spending so much time in the often dank and dingy halls of Erebor. I made my way further into the room, outlines of weapon racks and armour stands creeping out of the gloomy dark barely illuminated by the beam of light coming from the window.
"Méra?" I called tentatively, taking hold of a sword as I passed by one of the racks. If this was a game, I didn't want to lose it by going in unprepared.
As I rounded one of the pillars, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I sidestepped to match the movement, the pillar between us for a moment, before I spotted the figure before me. It definitely wasn't Méra's silhouette, so my mind leapt to the only other possibility.
"Master Ganin?"
The figure charged, and I brought my weapon up to block an attack that never came. The figure ducked under my sword and continued running, right up to the window's ledge. There, in stark relief against the cloudy skies, I saw an orc.
I took a moment to process, and then I shouted, racing towards it, but the nimble creature wildly scrambled up the rope ladder in the time it took me to get to the opening.
Then it cut the ropes loose.
I watched as my only way of leaving the guardroom dropped down to the rocks far below. My only chance of escape. Who knew what atrocities the orc could cause while loose in the mountain. Even worse, I was sure that in order to get free I would have to break Méra's trust and get someone's attention, to make the world aware of our secret retreat, all because I had been too slow to stop a single scrawny orc.
There was only so long that I could take out my fury on the training dummies before my unstretched muscles began to ache and, in what seemed to be a common trend when I got into a rage, I sent my sword skittering across the flagstones with a few stray sparks leaping up here and there.
After that, I huddled down and sulked, but even then I could only feel sorry for myself for so long before my mind began to wander, as is common when a person finds themselves stranded and alone in a dark room. Unlike most wandering minds, though, mine was coming down off an adrenalin kick which strung my thoughts along a particular course.
The orc I had just sent running must have been the culprit responsible for the missing weapons Ganin had reported, that much was almost certain. What I began to wonder, though, was why it didn't kill me. While at first I entertained the thought that it was simply afraid of me, and fled squealing with terror, I realized there was little chance of that - unless of course it mistook me for an elf (unlikely in the heart of a dwarven stronghold).
So, my next thought was that it didn't want to risk leaving behind a big dead piece of evidence. If it was killed, or in turn had killed me, there would be no denying that something was amiss in Erebor. As it was, it may have decided to avoid the conflict and just chance the sighting by a lone woman. My word, after all, may not be taken at face value after spending who knows how long trapped in a dark, dirty chamber with nothing but my thoughts. So that meant the orc must have had something to hide, but what? If it was afraid to leave evidence, then perhaps some larger scheme was at work.
The days following the battle hadn't been without their share of drama, to be sure. How much of it was connected to the orc was anyone's guess, but my semi-panicked mind latched onto this theory with reckless abandon and I made a mental list of all possible related incidents.
There was the missing scouting parties, who by this point were out almost a month and either discovered a tunnel spanning all the way to the Misty Mountains, or had run into misfortune. Then there was the collapsed aquifer, which gave Dain reason to make demanding requests of Bard, and the collapsed buildings in Dale, which gave Bard reason to doubt Dain. By the end of this list, I was so eager for the theory to be true that I was considering everything from scalding bathwater to spoiled food to missing articles of clothing, basically every inconvenience as a possible orc plot. Yet how would they have gotten in, and how have they evaded discovery thus far?
My conspiring started with our arrival at Erebor. Up until that point, it was unlikely that any orcs would be able to exist within Erebor while the dragon kept residence, so I assumed they must have entered after the death of Smaug. As for when, I reasoned there was a small chance of orcs sneaking in between the arrival of Thorin's party, and the arrival of my group travelling from Laketown after Kili's recovery - which would have given the crafty buggers three days to get in before Thorin walled off the entrance.
Another possibility was that, at some point during the absolute chaos of the subsequent battle, sometime after Thorin charged and around the same time as I took to the field, that some orcs broke through the dwarven lines and took up hiding in the mountain.
Of course, the third and most worrying possibility was that one of the giant wereworms under Azog's command had just gone ahead and broken through into the depths of Erebor somewhere. Yet, if that had been the case, I strongly suspected we would all be long dead and the war would have been lost. In fact, that would have been a really good way to guarantee victory for the orcish legions and I wondered why Azog had not ordered for such a devious strategy to occur.
At any rate, Erebor was so vast and still relatively unoccupied that it really would not be too difficult for a few rogue orcs to keep hidden, and it seemed most probable that perhaps a small troupe had crept inside before or during the battle. My brain was fitting pieces together like stones in a wall and I proceeded to talk my way through events that had happened since our arrival.
"The battle ends, and Dain becomes king. A dwarven scouting mission to the lower levels goes missing, and shortly after that one of our aquifers collapses, taking tools and demolition equipment with it... or does it? Maybe the orcs take the tools and equipment and then collapse the tunnel to cover it up... Then there were the structural collapses in Dale. The dwarves did the repairs, yet Bard's roof falls apart, nearly killing the one human keeping Dale together, and then another collapses on supplies brought by the Elves. Then, the orcs start stealing weapons, which means that they're planning something... something big." I ventured, my head spinning from all the connections it was struggling to make. Still, these random events were seeming less random when the general catch-all excuse of orc mischief was applied.
"Orcs did it!" I stated aloud in conclusion, and then jumped and screamed so loud that the cause of my alarm, a frazzled looking Méra, was forced to rush forward and clasp her hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I stared at her wide-eyed, and she stared calmly back at me.
"If that's your excuse for not replying to my calls, forcin' me to sneak a rope ladder back from the mines, then nearly giving me a heart attack hiding out down here in the dark, spouting nonsense, then you'd best start at the beginning."
I gave her the quick version first - the fact that there was an orc loose in the halls, which prompted Méra to rush back to the window.
"Oh I wish I would have been here!" she grumbled as she looked upwards to the balcony and then came back and began scoping the room. "Why didn't you kill it? Or why didn't it kill you?" she questioned, fixing me with a hard look.
I scowled and urged her to stop pacing. "That's what I was trying to figure out, just stop for a moment and listen."
I then quickly outlined my theories, and though her eyes widened and she nodded periodically, by the time I was done she remained oddly silent.
"Well?" I urged. "Don't you think we should get going to tell your father? If I'm right, we haven't seen the end of trouble, who knows what they could be planning next."
Méra sighed and ran a hand through her hair - well, she tried to anyhow, her fingers got tangled in her curls half way and she was forced to abort the motion and tug her hand free.
"I think, for now, we need to treat this all with a wee bit of... discretion." she began slowly. "We don't know for certain. It could have been just one lonely orc that got stuck down here, and if so, it will either eventually escape the mountain or be struck down by the next dwarf it encounters-"
"But all those events, the near-misses..." I retorted, becoming frustrated she wasn't supporting my theory.
"That's the thing though, they've all been near-misses, bad luck really, but no one's been hurt. You'd think if orc's were trying to sabotage us, they'd do a better job of it." Méra explained and I slumped my shoulders, perhaps she was right. "At any rate," she continued, "if we were to go tellin' my father, we'd have to tell him where exactly you were, and why, and then you can say goodbye to ever training again - Not to mention I would probably be locked in my bedroom until my future wedding!"
I nodded in defeat, though I could not quite shake the feeling that this was all more than coincidence and I felt a new concern for what might be lurking in the unused portions of the mountain. I could admit, however, that running to the king might be a bit premature at this point.
"If anything else goes wrong though, I'm telling someone what I saw." I told Méra severally. She sucked her lip in worry, but eventually agreed.
I hoped she was right and that we would hear nothing more of orcs.