En route back to the mountain I found that my health began to take a slight turn. I was more tired than usual, but felt that was reasonable given the events of the last few weeks. Yet after we left Keldun I really started to experience greater discomfort, leading me to believe something was amiss. Bofur suggested I ride for a while since the carts were now mostly empty and when I tried to protest he simply climbed in first and then noisily beckoned for me to join him, all but forcing me to scramble in after him lest we cause a greater scene. To make matters worse, however, after barely an hour the caravan was forced to a halt as I flung myself to the road and rushed into the underbrush to empty the contents of my stomach.
My mortification burned through my face. Yet despite my vile display, I noticed that most of the nearby dwarves seemed surprisingly indifferent to my condition, in fact they appeared downright bored with the interruption - with perhaps only those closest now eyeing me with a small level of repugnance. Bofur, noticing my embarrassment, gently reminded me that dwarves would be immune to whatever human illness I might have picked up.
"Don't worry about the lads, they aren't the least bit squeamish about this sort of thing. Aye, we may not get sick from illness, but don't think that after a bout of particularly heavy drinking a fair share of us haven't emptied the contents of our stomach all over our beards."
"Oh, is that why you've kept yours short?" I asked incredulously while accepting a proffered handkerchief from him to wipe the corner of my mouth. He winked and tapped his nose conspiratorially.
"Still, you should stay back, just in case." I cautioned him after rinsing out my mouth once more - mostly because I felt rather repulsive and didn't want him hovering over me too closely while I was in such a state.
"Nonsense!" Bofur quipped, clearly trying to keep my mood light-hearted. "You could hurl right in my lap, and I'd still catch nothing from you." he added as he came forward and put a hand on my forehead. "You don't feel much warmer than usual..." He studied me more seriously for a moment, but I tried to straighten up and offered him an appreciative grin, which seemed to ease some of his worry.
Hall, however, took a much more cautious approach, staying well clear but rather loudly announcing all the different fatal diseases he knew of that could cause my displayed symptoms of vomiting and fatigue. This grew tedious far quicker than Bofur's coddling had, and eventually I was too fed up with it to endure it any longer.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed as convincingly as I could. "Wait, the last one, what was it again, the croup? Bofur, my throat does feel a bit sore now!" I panicked, then quickly scrambled around the wagon to the side where Hall was giving me a wide berth. "Quick Hall, does anything look swollen?"
To my satisfaction Hall made a noise of alarm at my sudden advance and the threat of contamination, and frantically skittered further away, tumbling him right into a thicket of underbrush that mercilessly welcomed him into its scratchy embrace.
I was pleased with my display, but the small effort left me winded and clutching my stomach tenderly once more to keep the nausea at bay. I frowned to myself and muttered to Bofur that I surely just ate something bad, then suggested we continue on foot again, so at least if I needed to stop I wouldn't be forcing the whole assembly of wagons to wait on me. Thankfully the light exercise, along with the absence of the unrhythmic but constant jostling of the wagon, eventually settled my stomach. As the day stretched on, however, the general fatigue that I had felt really since the start of the whole venture turned into true exhaustion, and I regretfully had to regain my seat. I settled in against Bofur and tried to rest, greatly looking forward to catching up on sleep in my own bed.
Our return to Erebor, as it turns out, was preceded by the arrival of the long-anticipated caravan from the Blue Mountains, bringing with it scores of dwarven families seeking to make the mountain their home.
Wagon upon wagon had arrived, their occupants made up in no small part of the elderly and young who were ill equipped to make the mad dash through the mountains before the heavy winter snows set in. Furthermore, there had been many dwarves who remained in the West for some time after Erebor had been reclaimed, settling affairs and packing up their households, and as such they were only just arriving now.
As much as I was counting on a long and lavish recovery, mostly in bed, I wasn't at all surprised to learn that there was to be a large feast and celebration starting the following week, during which the official naming ceremony for Bombur's new daughter would also take place. Bofur, after seeing my slightly desperate expression when I heard the news, promptly went off to arrange for some hot meals to be sent to our quarters so that I might just head there directly and remain there for the remainder of the day. With any luck, I would gain enough of my energy back to fully enjoy the upcoming festivities.
Fortune was in my favour, as by the very next morning I felt much more revived than I had in days, and my nausea was fading into just a memory. I couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief, grateful that I had not in fact picked up some horrible pestilence from the rural villagers, but likely had just eaten something that had soured my stomach. Still, when I got out of bed my head swam for a moment and I had to accept the fact that it would take a few more nights of solid sleep before I would feel completely normal again.
When I wasn't recuperating, helping with preparations for the naming ceremony (which amounted to keeping Melvna company more than anything), or being monopolized by Méra, I took a few opportunities to catch up with Darus and Baz, learning of the more mundane diplomatic circumstances that had been going on in my absence and filling them in on the details of the trip. I spent part of each visit jotting down notes to keep me from forgetting anything and taking their input from the dwarven perspective on how best to frame the entire quest - I also found I was just enjoying talking to people I hadn't been on the road with for two weeks straight.
After I had taken a relatively lazy evening to myself, I decided to devote the following day to begin writing my formal report on the entire trip. I told Bofur of my plans, and decided I wanted to stay in to do so while subtly hinting that he could perhaps find his own reasons to leave our quarters for the day so as to not be a distraction to me.
The next morning, Bofur took care of me before he left, which was for the best really, as I had a difficult time shaking the bleary-eyed stupor that came from dragging myself out of bed before my body fully approved. He stoked the fire, set a plate of hot breakfast in front of me then boiled water for tea before tipping his hat and leaving me to my work.
A few hours later, and with my third cup of tea in hand, I had just settled back in my chair, flipping through my notes to ensure they were still in chronological order, when I thought I heard a knock at the door. I paused my shuffling, unable to think of anyone who would be coming to call so unexpectedly. I waited for another knock, but all was silent once more so I reasoned that whoever it was probably just left us a scroll. I took a sip of tea and returned to my notes, only to hear the knock again. With a huff, I dropped the papers on the table and made my way through the sitting room. I took a deep breath before the threshold, put on my most cordial smile, and opened the door.
"Bard!" I exclaimed in surprise when I came face to face with the stony faced leader of Dale, who I had caught off guard halfway between depositing a letter onto the small pedestal outside our door. He straightened, drew back the letter and said hello somewhat hesitantly.
"Your co-workers told me where to find you." he offered by way of some explanation. "They assured me you would be willing to receive guests…" he then seemed to take note of my relaxed attire and frowned slightly. "Though I'm beginning to think they may have just been too diplomatic to turn me away."
"Nonsense, please, do come in!" I urged and gestured him inside, then immediately felt a bit self-conscious and wondered if I was being too enthusiastic. Thankfully Bard handled it with the same stoicism as he seemed to handle everything with, and simply nodded in gratitude and walked past me.
"I really am working from home today." I explained defensively, not wanting him, of all people, to believe I was taking another day off a job I had barely held for a month. "I've realized that my coworkers can be quite chatty… My husband has that same fault, for that matter. I was actually just writing up my report from the trip."
Bard made a noise of acknowledgement and nodded. He quickly scanned the room before stepping closer to the fireplace. "I'm glad to see you seem to be settling in well now that you've returned." he observed idly, though his mind seemed to be somewhere far beyond the flames he was now staring into.
"I am, thank you." I replied politely, before my concern got the better of me and I moved alongside him. "Bard, is there something the matter?" I ventured, noticing he still held his letter in one hand. He noticed my attention on the envelope and then shook his head.
"Not exactly, no…" he began cryptically, and then gestured towards the chairs nearby. "May we sit?"
I nodded and took one of the chairs, though I was on the edge of my seat and far from settled. He moved to the back of the other chair, but seemed to then decide not to sit after all. He was clearly trying to work himself up to something, and while inside I was dying to find out what had earned me such an early morning visit, I outwardly tried my best to be patient. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up to me.
"There is something I felt you should know… everything has been rather… well, chaotic since you and your dwarven companions first stepped foot on my barge. I didn't really have much chance to explain..." His words seemed to fail him for a moment - something uncharacteristic for a man who, despite being soft-spoken and reserved, was becoming renowned for his unwaveringly charismatic speeches when the situation called for it. "Until now."
He finally opened the letter and scanned it before looking back up to me apologetically. "This might have done a better job of explaining, but it is best you hear this in person… so here it is." I raised an eyebrow expectantly when he paused once again, and so he simply carried on. "It's about your family, and what happened after you left Laketown for Bree."
I frowned and shook my head, knowing I could save him from the discomfort of having to reveal to me that my mother had become an addict. "Bard, it's alright, I know what happened... I found… well, I saw the bottles in my old house... to be honest, I'm just surprised there was even a house for me to go back to."
Bard stared at me with a rather dumbfounded expression for a moment and then he finally took a seat himself. He steepled his fingers under his chin while he regarded me for a moment. I was about to tell him that it was fine, that I had moved on, when he finally spoke up once more.
"You are mistaken. That's why I'm here now." he frowned at me for a moment before continuing. "It is a travesty that the memories of your mother have been twisted. You need to know the truth of it all."
I gaped at him, my heart beginning to feel slightly tight. I couldn't begin to fathom what information he had that could explain my findings in Laketown. Bard carried on, noting that he now had my full and unwavering attention.
"You see, the man who married your mother, he had a mean bout of jealousy towards the late Master of Laketown." Bard spat the title perhaps more derisively than intended, but for what it was worth, I could not blame him. When he spoke again, however, the tinge of anger was redirected towards the man he was now explaining. "He was hungry for power, for respect, and the crown of his collection was ensnaring that which the Master coveted above all else, yet never attained."
Bard looked at me knowingly.
"My mother." I uttered quietly, feeling a renewed sense of revulsion for the obsession the Master had towards her, and perhaps might have even passed on to me. I shuddered at the thought.
Bard nodded solemnly. "She struggled after the loss of your father, and she knew she risked losing the house. For whatever reason she felt compelled to do anything possible to try to keep it."
I tried to take a calming breath, though I felt a sense of guilt begin to tighten its grip on me. She wanted to ensure I had a home to come back to someday, she had mentioned as such in her early letters to me. I snapped back to attention when Bard carried on.
"The Master, of course, began trying to coerce her… but coercion became bribery, then bribery turned to threat. When this other suitor presented himself, well, he had the means to support her, and courted your mother better than any other in Laketown might have been capable. It seemed a logical decision to remarry quickly, to force the Master to withdraw."
I nodded slightly. If given the choice between the late Master of Laketown, and anyone else, well, it would not be so difficult to find the charm in a relative stranger.
Bard seemed to be pondering the same lamentous decision as his face had taken on a rather unpleasant expression. "I don't believe it was bad from the start, she clearly saw some good in him… and when his true colours began to show, she was still convinced she could help him become better - that he could change. But understand, when he gained your Mother's hand, I think he had a belief that it would earn him the respect he so desperately craved, that the Master would acknowledge his prowess for winning the 'trophy,' and humbly reward him for being the better man."
I couldn't help but interrupt with a small derisive snort.
Bard raised an eyebrow and smirked ever so slightly. "Did I mention that he was also not very bright? Of course the Master simply took the whole affair as a grave insult and made life that much harder for the pair of them. That pressure, along with the debt he married into… well, he soon became insufferable, his misery growing into something so great that even he, himself, could rarely tolerate without outside aid."
I was beginning to suspect what revelation he was leading me towards, and so I jumped ahead to the conclusion I had come to to spare him some time. "The bottles in her - my house… they weren't hers?"
"Dolion's" Bard confirmed scathingly, speaking a name I barely remembered, for I had only seen it written in a few odd letters so many years ago. The tone of the letters had always been light, and therefore the name had good impressions upon it. The venom with which Bard uttered it, however, shattered all the illusions my mother had crafted to shield me from the truth of her marriage. I was dumbfounded, too numb to respond.
"She came to me when the money was running out and Dolion was getting out of hand. She sold me the jewellery, and your father's brooch, before the scum could find it and pawn it himself."
"Why?" I asked, then tried to clear the strain out of my voice. "Why did you buy it all?" I knew Bard and his family were never well off enough to afford such luxuries, yet he had spent his hard-earned coin on such petty trinkets even when the economy of Laketown was failing, only to keep them safe for all those years, never seeing a return of his investment… only to gift them to me.
"Because it was the right thing to do." he replied firmly.
I blinked and lightly cleared my throat once more, then looked down at my hands at somewhat of a loss. The very foundation of what little closure I had of my past, all that I took for truth, had been based on my spiteful belief that my mother had abandoned me, sent me away for a pittance of a dowry, only to waste it away on spirits. If what Bard was telling me was true, it was me that had forsaken her, when she had only ever tried to do the best she could with what the world had given her. Not only that, I realized that she had been doing the exact same thing as I had in my letters to her, shielding her from the harsh reality of my situation. Bard, it seemed, felt compelled and honour-bound to explain just what my mother's reality had become leading up to her death, despite how painful it was to hear.
"Marriage did not suit Dolion. He was too selfish for it. After all, if even that which the Master desired so greatly did not make him happy, what was the point? He found solace only in drink, and drowned his despair in such a way right up until his dying breath… your mother outlived the bastard, though by what secret reserve of strength I'll never know, and not by long. She spent her few remaining hours in her sickbed getting her affairs back in order, before she too…"
Bard fell silent for a moment, and I was in no fit state to respond. I took a deep, shuddering breath as tears threatened to overwhelm me.
"I am sorry to be telling you all this…" he said quietly.
I looked back up at him to see that he had deflated slightly in his chair, and his expression held such a deep remorse that I wondered if there was a deeper guilt within him, one that compelled him to reveal the truth of it all, lest my mother's memory remain sullied forever in my mind. He wasn't able to save his friend, but he could perhaps spare her honour.
In gratitude for his own loyalty to my family, I wrestled my own self-pity aside and reached out to take both his hands in mine before his darkening emotions could get the best of him.
"She loved me?" I asked simply, allowing a long slumbering hope to kindle in me for the first time since meeting Bard all those months ago. A hope that I had not been forgotten, and that I truly had been going home.
"Until the end." he promised with conviction, giving my hands a squeeze. "You meant everything to her." he explained, his voice raw. "...and she died at peace with her choices, all of them, believing you were in a safer, better place. No matter what the truth of it was, at least we can take comfort in that."
"Yes…" I agreed as tears of joy struggled to wrest control from tears of anguish. I sat back up and wiped both kinds away as I nodded. "Everything that's happened has led me here, and I am happier than I ever thought I could be, and safe... I wouldn't change that for the world."
Bard nodded as well and then stood up, looking around the room as if finally seeing it for the first time. His eyes landed for a moment on the accent wall of reclaimed teal Laketown wood, then he took a few steps to trail his hand along the edge of a large and very notched up barrel sitting in the corner by the door.
"Now this is familiar." he commented, turning to glance at me with a ghost of a smirk on his lips before he made his way to the exit. He seemed about ready to leave without another word, but I said his name and grabbed his arm to stop him before he could cross the threshold.
I then hugged the Lord of Dale, the hero of Laketown, Dragon Slayer - and a humble bargeman, a loving father, and the truest friend of my parents hugged me back.
For the remainder of the morning I simply sat in a daze in the armchair by the fire, my work for the day long since abandoned, my notes scattered and forgotten, along with a cooling cup of tea, at the dining table in the next room.
Eventually I wrested myself up and noticed Bard had forgotten the letter on his chair; the dark but redeeming explanation that he must have spent a good deal of time meticulously composing for me to read. I wondered if the written words were much different than those he spoke and so idly grabbed it before making my way to the bedroom. I sat down heavily on the bed and then pulled out the jewellery Bard had saved for me - for her, looking at my mother's pieces with newfound reverence. Everything felt better somehow, right even, and I donned the opal necklace for the first time with a bittersweet fondness as I allowed myself to remember her as I had always wished to, with love and longing in my heart.
Bofur found me like that some time later, and his initial greeting fell on deaf ears. It wasn't until he took a few steps into the room that I fully noticed his presence.
"Here I thought I'd find you hard at work, too busy to even eat, and so you'd be extremely thankful for the surprise lunch I've brought you… but I see we've retired early?"
I gave him a partway smile and lifted a shoulder slightly before my gaze settled back down to study my father's silver brooch.
"Is everything alright?" Bofur asked more tentatively, and with my fingers tracing across the rays of the star brooch before lifting to clutch the smooth pendant on my necklace, I nodded softly.
"My mother… she- she was taken advantage of… she was just trapped… like I was." My explanation was a poor one yet I was unable to provide any better context as I was still processing the revelation myself, but despite it all, I smiled slightly.
"Oh is that all?" Bofur ventured sarcastically, coming to stand next to the bed. "And that's… good?" he questioned, clearly perplexed by the dissonance between the words and the tone with which they were spoken.
"What?" I had only half realized I was talking to him, and had to review the last few moments in my head before I understood his confusion. "Oh, yes - I mean no! No, of course it's awful, I'm not happy about that, but… well… in a way… perhaps I am. Look, just read this." I grabbed Bard's letter off the bed and thrust it at him, then returned to my memories. After quickly reading it he handed me back the paper, eyebrows raised in a very thoughtful look.
"Huh…" he exclaimed, and I waited for him to say more on the matter, but he seemed to be unsure exactly what to say. It wasn't like him not to have a ready response to any situation, and it drew me out of myself. I looked at him with more focus and chewed on my lip for a moment.
"I guess I just feel more at peace with it all, knowing she wasn't a bad person... or a bad mother. She didn't sell me, and she hadn't lied to me out of a place of greed or maliciousness. She did love me, and she was always just trying to do what she thought was right… If only we had been honest with each other…" I trailed off, afraid I would be overcome with a new wave of melancholy if I carried that thought through to its end.
"Ah, if only…" Bofur lamented sombrely, taking a seat on the bed beside me, looking down into his hands. "The saddest words in any language… If only you'd been honest to each other. If only I'd gone with Thorin, Kili and Fili to Ravenhill. If only I'd been with her the night the cliffside gave way…"
I looked at him with a frown. "If only I was a dwarf…" I contributed morosely after a moment's silence.
"If only I was a human." Bofur countered, and then raised an eyebrow thoughtfully and reached out to take my hand. "If only I was a rich, handsome, well endowed human." He grinned a small grin, which I returned despite the bittersweet mixture of happy sorrow I was still feeling. "My point is, life can be full of 'if onlys' for everyone. Instead, I try to ask 'why' - why did all those terrible things happen? And honestly, the only consolation I've managed to find for a long while has been you." He looked into my eyes and smiled a smaller, more heartfelt smile. "Had any one of those 'if onlys' come to pass, I might never have met you, or survived long enough to get to this point, right here, right now."
The rush of gratitude and love that filled my heart then was so strong it made my eyes fill with tears. I blinked them away as I all but threw myself at Bofur to embrace him. I clung to him and he held me tight as I whispered the depths of my love into his ear.
The end of the week came around with surprising haste, a fact that I observed with much chagrin and thus proving that the time preparing before, and regrouping after a trip can often be as busy, if not more so, than the actual trip itself. So it was that I found myself back at another grand dwarven celebration, wondering if there was ever, in the long and well recorded history of dwarves, more than a score of days that went by without a party. Given how adept everyone always seemed at preparing for such events, I reckoned not.
So, true to form, the feast commenced in typical dwarven fashion that reminded me of all the others I had since attended. The menu, however, was becoming increasingly more varied, with a greater array of fresh options than ever before, and there was some excitement over the arrival of dwarven fare from the Blue Mountains that was brought along with the caravan. Bofur explained that many dwarves from his homeland were actually quite fond of seafood, being quite near to the coast as they were. He told me there was easy trade to be had with the human fishing settlements in the region and remarked that these important ties were why he and many of his kin had such a comfortable and familiar grasp of speaking the common tongue.
"Do you think in Khuzdul before you talk?" I asked, turning to sit towards him, now genuinely curious. Bofur opened his mouth to respond, but then paused.
"Huh…" he said simply. "I'd never really thought of it…" he went silent for a moment, clearly thinking in his head, then narrowed an eye and seemed to be getting uncomfortable. "Blimey, now it all just feels weird and unnatural, overthinking it… let's just say it's complicated and I'll get back to you… now where was I going with all that? Oh, right! You should really try the salted oysters." he finished with a grin, but then rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "…if there's any left, that is. I'm sure the dwarves that overwintered here will be eating them by the cask."
I smiled and leaned forward slightly to peer down at Bombur a few seats down. We had once again been assigned spots at a head table, not because of any status on our part this time, but due to the fact that we were Bombur's next of kin. Him and his family were the guests of high honour for this particular occasion due to the naming ceremony that was to soon commence for the first dwarven child to be born under the Mountain since its reclamation.
"Well if Bombur gets wind of them, then there's likely no hope for any of us." I quipped in response to Bofur's previous comment.
"Surprisingly, that is the one thing Bombur isn't fond of. The jarred eel however-"
He was cut off as Dain suddenly stood up and, with an abrupt gesture in Iglishmek, caused the assemblage to fall quiet. Unlike our wedding, where he had used common speech throughout as a courtesy to the bride and her people, he now spoke in Khuzdul. I looked at Bofur questioningly after his small speech was complete.
Bofur lifted a shoulder, clearly the king's words had not been extremely significant. "He just reminded us that the rest of the drinks won't be served until the ceremony's over, after dinner, so that we don't become too disorderly."
I stifled a laugh. "Disorderly dwarves? Say that five times fast."
Bofur did so, counting it out on his fingers as he did so, though it was not fast. I watched with mock reverence, as it was in fact much the opposite of fast - downright slow actually, as the words rolled off his tongue thick and vibrant like honey and his eyes implied all manner of disorderly things he could do. The sultry nature held until four when, midway through, I lost my composure and broke into a smile, cheeks reddening. He smiled too and slowly shook his head.
"What am I going to do with you? I can't take you anywhere without you getting all manner of inappropriate thoughts, can I?" he scolded playfully. I swatted his shoulder.
"You think you're such a tease, don't you." I admonished in return. "How would you like it if I gave you a taste of your own medicine, hmm?" I asked, reaching for a jar of particularly phallic looking eels. He lazily raised an eyebrow, daring me on, and I opened the jar, only to catch a whiff of it and close it immediately while stifling a gag.
"Ugh, no. I can't do it." I choked as Bofur started laughing. "How on earth does Bombur stomach those?" I grimaced, looking down the table where sure enough he was dangling a particularly long one into his mouth like a baby bird going for a worm as Melvna watched from the corner of her eye with a look of very practiced patience.
Bofur and I watched as well, much less subtlety.
"It sort of has the opposite effect from what you were planning, doesn't it?" Bofur observed with the sort of affectionate disgust that surely only a sibling could know, and then we returned to our meals, our efforts at subtle arousal abandoned after such a sight.
When the last course was served and everyone had eaten their fill, plates were cleared and cups were topped off, then the servers returned to their own tables and a silence spread throughout the assemblage. I looked to Bofur for guidance, and he simply put a finger to his lips, so I kept quiet and waited for what came next.
A frail old voice broke the silence, Khuzdul filling the void like gravel tumbling down a mighty mountainside, yet building in power as pebbles would grow to become an avalanche. From behind Bombur and Melvna an ancient looking dwarf spoke, and though many of his words were a mystery to me, they repeated over and over, interspaced with what I thought I recognized as names - names of people, of places. It was a lineage, I thought, presumably starting out as far back as it could with one of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves, who oddly enough happened to be named Dwalin (before I figured out what was truly going on, I was confused as to why they would be mentioning our burly companion, Dwalin, so much, but this earned me a more stern shush from Bofur when I prodded him to ask about it). As it turned out, though, there were no less than seven 'Dwalins' in Bofur and Bombur's lineage, and several repetitions of names such as Laurin and Linnar and variations of such. The elder's last few rhythmic verses took on an air of finality to them, and with one last cycle that finally included another familiar name, Bombur, before finishing on Melinda. Dain then rose, and was presumably taking some time to thank the old dwarf, and I finally felt everyone relax enough that I could reposition myself to get more comfortable and take a few deeper breaths. Bofur turned to glance at me and I leaned in.
"When you told me you weren't related to Thorin, I always thought you meant just not closely related - not enough to be considered kin - but still might be a distant thirtieth cousin six times removed or something."
Bofur shook his head. "Oh no, we're talking about a completely different clan here. Unrelated all the way back to creation, except indirectly through marriage I suppose."
"If Durin's folk are Longbeards, what does that make you?" I asked, amazed I still had so much to learn about dwarves and starting to wonder if one human lifetime would ever be enough.
"Broadbeams." he explained proudly. "That makes us Broadbeams. A lot of Dain's folk from the Iron Hills are kin of ours, believe it or not."
I looked thoughtfully to the king, who had finished his conversation with who I guessed must be a Broadbeam loremaster, and was now brandishing what I took to be the same mythril hammer as I had seen used during the wedding ceremony. Dain then turned to the crowd once more and began to speak in a ritualistic fashion, Khuzdul flowing reverently as I was unused to hearing it, and so thick with history and meaning that it sounded - no, it felt like something an elf or a wizard might have said when conjuring some sort of magic. The air had that same electricity to it as the tunnel I had passed during my marriage to Bofur, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the hammer itself that had some sort of enchantment upon it. Dain then shouted the name of the new babe aloud, and he was echoed by all those gathered in a thunderous repetition, and then the hall fell into silence once more. I was actually shocked little Melinda hadn't cried out at the sudden cacophony, as it had certainly made me jump, but when I looked down the table to where she lay in her mother's arms I thought I saw Melvna ever-so-subtly removing something from her daughter's ears, presumably an unwritten, unspoken part of the ceremony passed down by mothers who were sick of their bairns being deafened by such a din only a few weeks into life. Surely there was some meaning to this part of the ritual - was the baby meant to show strength if she stayed quiet? Or to learn to know fear and learn to overcome it? If so, blocking the noise was likely low-level blasphemy of some sort. I smirked a little at that, realizing that even in such a strict society that prided adherence to tradition above all else, the bond between a parent and her child was stronger still.
Dain seemed pleased by the babe's response, and so he concluded his speech, and then to cheers he led Bombur, Melvna and Melinda from the Great Hall, accompanied only by the wise loremaster that had recited their parentage.
"They'll be off to conclude the ceremony." Bofur advised as he tried flagging down a server who was already being beleaguered by drink requests now that the celebration was over.
"So few of them?" I asked, only having our wedding to compare to which had a few dozen attendants at the more private part of the ritual.
"Secret names wouldn't be a secret if many people knew them, now would they?" he replied cryptically, leaving me taken aback.
"Secret names." I replied deadpanned, but when I didn't get a response from him / right away I couldn't decide if he was kidding or not. "Wait, dwarves actually do have secret names?"
He glanced sidelong at me, a twinkle in his eye, but before he could respond a fresh ale was placed before him, so he thanked the server and then took a long drink.
"Bofur." I urged, but he kept on drinking. I swatted him on the arm. "Bofur, seriously!"
He set down his mug and let out a satisfied 'Ah', but still didn't reply.
"Fine." I tutted indignantly, taking up my own drink and tapping the mug impatiently with my fingers. "I mean, I guess I can assume your secret name translates to celibate dwarf, or something of the like… or at least that's what you'll be unless you stop being so ridiculously annoying."
He shot me an exaggeratedly wounded look, and I bit back a grin. "Honestly though," I continued, "you can't just casually bring something like that up and then go tight-lipped. Are you trying to drive me mad?"
Bofur smirked and grabbed hold of my thigh below the table. "Oh, I know I drive you mad." he drawled.
"Alright then. Keep your secrets." I retorted as clippingly as I could, but had to suppress the urge to smile nonetheless. "I suppose I just think it's odd to be married to someone and not even know their real name."
"It doesn't exactly work like that. My real name, for all intents and purposes, is Bofur."
When he didn't elaborate any further I pursed my lips at him.
"Look," he soothed, straightening up a bit and dropping his voice conspiratorially, "I'll tell you more, but not here." He nodded around at the crowded hall. "Our true names are kept secret to everyone but our very closest kin. There's power in a name, you know. Even Dain won't be present for Melinda's true naming. If I told you mine here and now, it'd be like me dropping my pants in public and waving my bits around for everyone to see - sure, you might enjoy it, but everyone else either wouldn't get it, or would be horribly uncomfortable with it - well, perhaps a few others might enjoy it, so I suppose the analogy isn't perfect..." he trailed off with a smile and then shrugged.
"That's alright," I reached out and patted his hand. "Everything about you is perfect enough for me." I complimented underhandedly.
Bofur nodded, initially satisfied by my praise, but then he must have run the wording through his mind again, because he frowned slightly. "Hang on, perfect enough?" he asked incredulously, suddenly lacking in some of his usual self-confidence. I laughed, and he narrowed his eyes at me, but I said no more on the matter, instead selecting a pastry off a dessert platter that was placed within reach and biting into it with a coy grin. Bofur simply shook his head and smiled back at me.
Drinks and food continued to be served, and at some point a hearty cheer and round of applause marked the return of Dain and the happy parents. I was starting to feel an acute fatigue creep up on me through the night, and while I suspected I was over-doing it by staying up later than I ought, I rationalized that holding out a little bit longer to bid the celebrants goodnight wouldn't do me in, and so eagerly awaited Bombur and Melvna's return to the head table. This took longer than I expected, beset on all sides as they were by merrymakers and well-wishers, and by the time they reached the front of the hall I had the onslaught of a headache developing and felt slightly flushed all over. I was very much looking forward to retiring for the evening, so without further ado I assured Bofur he could stay as long as he liked and rose to make my way around to offer my farewells.
I was just at the end of the table and was starting to skirt around the edge of it when a wave of heat and dizziness suddenly overtook me, so strongly that I had to reach out a quick hand to try to steady myself. My fingers grazed the cool wood of the table, but it did not prevent the growing darkness and the spinning from overwhelming my sense of balance. I needed to sit down, and tried to go back, but my thoughts became clouded and a very distant part of myself became vaguely aware of a falling sensation, but thankfully I felt no impact.
I was confused when I awoke, for I wasn't in my bed- no- I began to remember that I had not even gone to bed yet, I hadn't even left the feast, which explained why I was now looking up at a ring of worried faces. Bofur and Méra knelt on either side of me, and beyond them I could make out Bifur, Bombur and Melvna.
I hurriedly tried to sit up but Méra put a hand on my shoulder and held me in place.
"Not so fast." she said gently, then nodded at Bofur who slid a hand behind my back for support.
"I'm fine." I mumbled, not quite hiding the annoyance in my tone. I was becoming clear-headed enough to realize how embarrassing the whole situation was, and the last thing I wanted was to draw it out longer while being slowly babied to my feet.
Dain's voice then cut through the silence around us. "Well, what's wrong with her then?"
Méra scowled and then turned to snap at her father. "Da!"
She stood as he approached and I moved to quickly get up as well, causing Bofur to scramble to readjust his position in order to help me. Though as much as I thought I was totally capable of doing it on my own, a trace of wobbliness caused me to sink back against his arm for a moment before I could find solidity on my own two feet.
"Well we can't have her always causin' a scene, swoonin' at every event, now can we?" Dain continued as he stepped into the main circle of my closest onlookers, and I couldn't tell if his words were born of amusement or annoyance. He appraised me with an unreadable expression. I suddenly felt quite sheepish under the scrutiny of the king and was compelled to speak.
"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." I told him as steadily as I could, but he wasn't convinced.
"As king, I can help. Can't have our resident human comin' down with something, as they say, but I need to know."
I frowned, uncertain as to how to respond since I knew there was nothing truly wrong with me, though to him it must have been more of a confirmation.
"By Durin's beard Méra, are all your friends as stubborn as you?" he asked rhetorically, before shaking his head and looking to Bofur.
"Fine then, what do you have to say on the matter? Has she taken ill? Does she have some kind of… condition - or other human malady?" he asked him directly.
"No, I'm fine." I interjected quickly, but Dain held up his hand and looked at me sternly.
"Ah, you've had your chance to tell me truly lass, now we'll be lettin' someone else take a turn." he reproached, before nodding to Bofur and awaiting his answer.
Bofur hesitated a moment, sparing me a quick, apologetic glance before responding. "She's been… a bit off… for a few weeks now, but I don't know what's wrong." he replied carefully.
I bristled slightly, wanting to turn and correct him that I'd only actually been sick for those few days on the road and was simply just still on the mend. I stayed quiet, however, as I did not want further scolding from the king.
"I'll take her to Oín tomorrow," Bofur continued, and it seemed like he was about to say more but Dain cut him off with a loud scoff.
"Oín? The dwarf's a combat healer at best, and a deaf old one at that. Sure, If I was bleeding out on a battlefield his mendin' would suit me just fine, but he couldn't tell a human's wee sniffle from a plague." Dain looked at us thoughtfully for a moment, rubbing his beard, then seemed to come to some sort of conclusion as he suddenly nodded. "I'll have my healer send a summons for her. Let's just get this sorted quick, before you two cause me any more trouble. Now off with ya, rest up until you're sent for - king's orders."
With that I allowed Bofur to guide me away without any further fuss, feeling so mortified that I simply wanted to get away from the prying eyes of all of Erebor as quickly as possible.
Bofur remained silent during the walk back to our quarters, though he kept a firm grip on my hand and kept us at a slightly slower pace than usual. By the time we arrived back, I felt a tension had begun to thicken the air between us. I turned to face him as soon as we entered our rooms, but he carried on past me, and eventually I heard the heavy door of our balcony open and then shut.
I frowned to myself for a moment, lingering in the middle of the common room, before deciding to follow him out. A cool but light breeze met me as I stepped outside. The sky was mostly overcast and there were no stars to be seen, yet the moon was left exposed and was nearing its fullness, casting a glowing light over the landscape. Bofur had already pulled out his pipe and was busy setting it, but still he said nothing when I approached. I quietly waited for him to finish, though when he was through, he didn't light it, but instead turned to acknowledge me. I offered him a small, close-mouthed smile, wanting to dissipate whatever strain I had inadvertently created. I knew he was surely embarrassed by the drama I had caused at the feast, and probably annoyed that he was forced to leave early.
He studied me, his eyes searching my own with a focus that caused me to feel even more scrutinized than I had under the inspection of the king. I couldn't help but shuffle and cast my gaze down to the safety of my own feet.
"Bofur, I'm really sorry about earlier." I said quietly. "You can go back now, I was just going to head to bed anyway."
When he didn't immediately reply, I took that as a cue that he was indeed quite frustrated with me, and so I simply turned to leave - he could do what he wanted with the rest of the night and hopefully the following day he would find it to forgive me.
I didn't make it two steps before his hand was on my arm, pulling me to a stop and guiding me to turn back around.
"You think I'm mad at you?" he asked incredulously with raised eyebrows.
"Why wouldn't you be?" I replied with a frown. "I shamed you. It was such an important event for your family, and I-"
"Stop. No." Bofur cut me off, this time grabbing both my upper arms for emphasis. "Do you think I give a damn about all that? Aye, it's an honour for Bombur and Melvna, and Durin knows how blessed I feel that we were all graced with Melinda, but even if you had hurled your whole supper all over Bombur's new frock, I still wouldn't be angry with you."
He let me go then and sighed, shaking his head slightly before looking out over the rail. "I feel ignorant, you know, after all my years on this earth… truth be told I still don't know all that much about humans."
"There isn't much to know." I quipped automatically, but Bofur just rubbed his face wearily before glancing back at me.
"Just tell me," he said, "how worried should I be?"
A small part of me felt a sudden relief that his sullen attitude was borne out of concern and not resentment towards me, but then I felt an even greater guilt grow over the whole affair, for not just diverting the attention at the celebration away from deserving little Melinda, but for also causing Bofur undo anxiety over nothing.
"Bofur, I promise you, nothing is wrong with me. I'm fine." I assured him resolutely. "If it were something serious, I'd know, there'd be other signs. Sometimes we can... overdo it, we get tired, and it just takes longer to recover…" I trailed off somewhat lamely, feeling a renewed sense of contempt over the ridiculous frailty of my race compared to theirs.
Bofur's eyes met mine once more, his expression was contemplative. "Lass, I saw you across near on two hundred leagues, and in that time you only lost consciousness when the lot of us barely survived mountain giants, only for you to have to endure orcish captivity for hours before being skewered through the shoulder and held aloft by an orc that even Thorin was barely able to kill. And the other time was after the Battle of the Five Armies when you were on the field of battle for over ten hours before being wounded so badly you could hardly lift your arms for weeks afterwards, never mind the mental stress of losing Thorin, Fili and Kili…"
I blinked at him in shock, and could not quite formulate a logical response quickly enough before he asked me;
"Did this happen at all while you were working in Bree?"
I thought for a moment, truly dug through my memories, but no, there was nothing. I bit my lip, which was answer enough for Bofur.
"Yet surely you are better taken care of now?" he pressed. "Better fed, better rested? And I know for a fact you are stronger, more physically capable. Why would you suddenly be fainting here, now, when you'd never before? I assume you must have had times of exhaustion, malnourishment even, while at the tavern?"
"I don't know!" I exclaimed, tossing up my hands. I could think of no proper explanation and his pestering was beginning to make me feel uneasy. "I mean, yes, of course I'm healthier now, more than ever... maybe it's because I've been so very pampered here, being treated like a proper lady and all, that I'm starting to get a delicate constitution."
Bofur looked at me skeptically, and I chewed my lip in uncertainty. We both knew my stay in Erebor had been far from relaxing and stress free at times, so that excuse did little to put my mind at ease.
Finally, Bofur broke the ponderous silence.
"Dain's healer has a bit of a mythical reputation, you know…" he mused as nonchalantly as possible, glancing my way to gauge my reaction. I raised an eyebrow, wondering where his thoughts were going. "I'm serious. She's treated royals in the Line of Durin for generations, very exclusive - lesser nobility don't even get sent to her without direct approval from the king, and she knows her stuff. She's the one who taught the teachers, if you know what I mean. Even dabbles in a bit of magic, if the rumours are true. That last part aside, if there's anyone who can give you an absolute clean bill of health, it's her, so why not take the opportunity?"
I smiled sardonically. "Well, I am getting the distinct impression that to refuse would be an unforgivable dishonour."
Bofur nodded, a small glimmer of relief relaxing his features somewhat as I accepted the fact that I would have to go see the healer no matter what. "Oh aye. Passing out at a feast is an extremely common occurrence, even for dwarves. Dain himself apparently does it every few months or so. He's just mastered the art of propping himself up just so with a drink in his hand before nodding off. Refusing the king's physicker though… that would be a whole different problem. Never been done before, so can't really say what might happen." He shrugged. "Maybe she'd cast a curse on you, who knows."
I rolled my eyes. "Well we wouldn't want that, then, now would we? Can't have the mountain's only resident human being turned into a bat or a toad… or maybe she'd just make all my hair fall out."
"Now that would be tragic." Bofur hummed, reaching out and sliding a few fingers through the strands that hung by my cheek. "You know it's one of my favourite features, and it's just growing out nicely again."
I smiled but then took a moment to consider the whole situation more seriously. I had never had an opportunity to see a real medical practitioner, and Oín was the closest I had come in recent times. As this would likely be my only chance to ever be examined, and by someone so renowned nonetheless (even if she was more used to dealing with dwarves), I reasoned that it couldn't hurt. Besides, if I was so worried about my fragility compared to Bofur, I should be doing everything in my power to make sure I was as healthy as possible.
"I'll go." I said quietly, reaching my hand up and placing it upon Bofur's - which was still gently toying with my hair. "But if I catch you walking around on eggshells trying to treat me like some damsel in distress before I get to see her, you'll be the one needing a healer."