Although my talk with Granny had been quite revelatory, I found that as soon as she left me to my thoughts, a wave of exhaustion hit me so hard that I struggled to even complete the short walk to my room. The encounter with Bofur, as charged as it was, had fueled my body with adrenaline and false energy, and so after I was able to catch my breath, I suddenly felt worse than I had the entire pregnancy thus far.
I eased myself into bed, curling in on myself as best I still could, and let my eyes close. Sleep was not immediately forthcoming, however, and my thoughts churned over the events of the day. What I wanted to do was to go after Bofur, to show him that I also still wore my wedding ring and matrimonial braid, to make him believe that I was only living here out of desperation for safety and comfort - not to be with Hall. Yet I was distressed over the fact that I simply could not bring myself to do anything at all for the moment, as my body was too weary and I felt a growing ache settle over my joints. So I let my mind continue to fret, and the stress within me added to my burden. After what felt like an age, a welcome slumber finally eased away some of my worry for a time.
When I awoke some hours later, I found I was not refreshed in the slightest, and the tension I had been plagued with before drifting off seemed even heavier still. I forced myself up, having to use the bed frame to support myself, and then poured some water from the pitcher that was now kept filled in my room. I slowly wandered over to the window and saw that the sun had already set. The day was over, and a feeling of melancholy washed over me. Bofur would be back at the mountain by now, and so I would be unable to reach him. They would never let me in, heck, they would likely deny entry to anyone I might even send as a mediator at this point too. He would miss the birth of our child, and I was alone.
I could do little to prevent the tears from wetting my cheeks, and soon my tired body was being raked with sobs once again as I leaned pathetically against the side of the windowpane. In my state, I didn't notice anyone come in until suddenly I felt the water cup I forgot I was still precariously gripping being gently tugged out of my hand. Hall set it down on the nearby table and then turned back to me.
I managed to stifle my sobs for a moment enough to glance up at him. He looked as bewildered and innocently vulnerable as I'd ever seen him, as if he didn't quite know how exactly to comfort me. I was so tired and could not even muster the energy to say anything at all, to explain or assure or complain, nothing. I simply stepped slightly closer to him and tentatively leaned my head against his chest, closing my eyes against the world, trying to seek some solace from the only soul that seemed at least halfway willing to try to help. After a moment, his arms finally came up lightly around me and there I continued to cry until I had no more tears to shed.
The next day I could not bring myself to leave my room. I was embarrassed by the entire fiasco of the day before, but also so run down that I did not quite have the energy to face everyone and what was sure to be the politely masked pity whenever they saw me.
Hall had left me sometime in the night. He had gallantly let me weep into his chest until I all but exhausted myself, and then he wordlessly led me back to bed where he proceeded to tuck me in as if I were nothing more than an overtired child. Then he waited. He grabbed a nearby chair and hummed to himself until I eventually fell asleep. Only then did he leave. Thinking back on it all, it had been a strange interaction between us, so raw and real, and yet I hadn't the mental capacity to spare it much more than a passing inflection compared to the other monumental events I couldn't help but continually reflect upon… and agonize over.
Although I could perfectly understand why Bofur had felt so misled (which is exactly the reason why I did not wish to impose upon Hall's home in the first place), I still could not help but be pained all the more by how our first encounter in months had concluded. I also felt my anger towards Bofur grow anew. Over the course of the summer, my fury had gradually subsided into a steady form of anguish and sorrow that I felt deep in my heart. Now, however, my blood rushed hotter through my veins, and it prevented me from taking the rest I so desperately needed. Instead I paced my room, ignoring the pressure in my joints and my back, and occasionally stopping to cram a small pastry or slice of cheese into my mouth from a large snack platter brought up by Quinton after I had skipped breakfast. I did not enjoy, nor even really taste, any of the food, but it was a welcome break from otherwise gnawing on my inner cheek or clenching my jaw.
Not long after I failed to show up for afternoon tea, I heard a quiet knock on my door.
"Come in." I called out rather curtly, knowing I couldn't very well pretend I wasn't there, but not exactly feeling in the mood to visit with anyone.
Hall opened the door and peered in. Seeing that I wasn't abed, he stepped somewhat tentatively inside, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
"Ah, you're up." he commented lightly, his gaze landing on my picked over food tray. "I'm glad Quinton has tended to you, since you haven't been to any meals today… How are you feeling?"
"Well enough." I said with a huff, sitting down on the window ledge and glancing at Hall somewhat sheepishly. "I'm sorry. About yesterday… About everything." I added glumly.
Hall rubbed the back of his neck in an uncharacteristically awkward manner. "Did you want to talk about it?"
I frowned and gazed out the window. The glass was flecked with raindrops, it had been a dreary day - one that finally suited my mood rather than contrasted it. Then I looked back to Hall. "Why would you agree to take care of me?" I asked him with a degree of scrutiny. "You don't owe me anything. And surely it would hurt your reputation when it became public - which it must at some point. I can't stay hidden inside forever."
Hall snorted and seemed to relax somewhat despite my sudden interrogation. "My reputation? Do you think I worry about such things?"
I shot him a patronizing look. "Hall. Surely you must. Someone in your position… You can't tell me you've gotten where you are in life by not giving a care about how you are perceived by others." Hall raised his brows at me but said nothing, and so I continued with a small frown. "Associating with me… especially after… when it becomes public that I'm a single mother of no means and no prospects, especially considering the circumstances of it all… well, it would cause all manner of bad gossip. It could even threaten your family's business and livelihood here."
Hall rubbed his chin. "Unless I marry you and simply pretend the child is mine."
I gaped at him a moment, studying his face for any sign of jest. His expression was devoid of humour, however, and otherwise completely unreadable.
"Would you?" I finally stammered, otherwise at a loss for words.
"Is that what you'd like me to do?" he asked slowly.
I blinked at him, then shook my head. "I'm already married." I said quietly, subconsciously reaching a hand up to run through my hair, feeling the braid still hidden within my otherwise slightly tangled locks.
"Your faithfulness is admirable, but are you sure it's reciprocated?" Hall questioned, his tone holding a slight weight even though he kept his voice light and conversational.
"…there could still be a chance…" I replied weakly before trailing off and faltering. Truthfully I had little defense left to offer of my current marriage. Sure, Bofur had kept on his wedding ring and had tried to find me over the summer, but then he also explicitly stated that he never wished to see me again. He had humiliated not only myself, but Hall as well, and with his last breath ordered me never to return to my home in the mountain.
"How many more chances are you going to give him?" Hall then asked in a quieter tone, and though his words held no trace of judgment, a sting of some unpleasant and unnamed emotion passed through me. It felt that in the relatively short time I had even known Bofur, I had already given him a million chances; to fight for our relationship, to redeem the hurts he had inadvertently given me, to prove himself, and yet… I shook my head, unable to complete the thought, my heart wasn't strong enough for it.
"But you don't love me." I finally uttered. It was not a question, and it served to change the subject and avoid having to provide an impossible answer.
"And you don't love me." Hall remarked with just as much surety, and then his voice took on a more stoic, almost rehearsed quality as he continued with words that did not seem quite like his own - perhaps words spoken to him in another time, another place. "Yet sometimes, doing the right thing is more important. And who knows, perhaps we could learn to. We are not the worst match by any means, I feel we could lead a happy life together."
I stared at him, a lump forming in my throat, and I knew that I didn't deserve this man in front of me; this man who would throw away his own chance at future love simply to ensure my well-being. Whereas my own husband, the supposed love of my life, had broken my heart, and had cast Hall into an unfair situation because of his own insecurities. Perhaps I was better off with Hall. Bofur seemed to think so… Bofur was a fool. Perhaps I should try. Perhaps I should allow myself to be as unfaithful as Bofur imagined I was. Afterall, I'd held out through the wacky pregnancy hormones, when a faithful husband should have been tending to me. Didn't I deserve solace? Comfort? Physical reward?
Yes. I quite thought I did.
I pushed myself off the windowsill and, with the heat of injustice burning through me, slowly closed the distance between Hall and myself, slid my arms up over his neck, pulled him down slightly and then kissed him full on the mouth.
The kiss never softened. In fact, we both went rigid as boards. I don't know if it was due to the awkward shape of my body, or just some physical incompatibility, but it all just felt so… wrong. I broke away and let my hands fall down to his chest, while his own hands - which had instinctively circled around my back just for a moment, moved to my upper arms and lightly gripped me, perhaps to hold me back were I to throw myself at him once more. In any other situation, I might have been mortified, but for whatever reason with Hall, I found I could not prevent myself from smiling when I finally looked up at him.
"Why Hall, I do believe you're blushing." I said, smoothing my hands over his chest before stepping back, knowing full well that my own cheeks were likely just as flushed.
A throat suddenly cleared, and realizing it was neither of us, we both snapped our heads towards the forgotten, wide open door. Rosalin was standing with a hand on the door frame, somewhat wide-eyed. Upon being noticed, however, she quickly schooled her expression.
"Well," she said, her voice as casually calm as ever, "dear brother, if I had any doubts remaining whether you actually were the father of this child, rest assured they are now gone, for that was truly the most uncoordinated attempt at romance I've ever witnessed."
With that she dipped her head slightly, not bothering at all to hide the smirk that graced her face, then sauntered off down the hallway.
Hall excused himself with all the grace he could muster, but had a thought that stopped him in the doorway. "On the bright side…" he observed, glancing back at me. "At least it wasn't Mabel, or the whole house would be reliving that for a fortnight!"
"Thank goodness for small blessings." I replied drolly. He smiled a brief smile, then turned and left.
In an attempt to try to alleviate whatever gossip might be spreading in the wake of Bofur's visit, I planned to spend the next day in the company of others, even though I felt like the shame of it might be unbearable. I worried that hiding away would only make me more pitiful, and after all the trouble my hosts were going to (and all the trouble they would no doubt endure at the logical conclusion my current condition), the last thing I wanted was anyone in the family feeling beholden to tend to me in my self-wallowing remorse.
By the time breakfast rolled around, however, I felt I was still too lethargic to drag myself out of bed, let alone put on a brave face for the benefit of others. I dozed, hoping to fortify myself by the afternoon, and yet luncheon passed too while I allowed my body still more time to adjust to the limits of this new stage of pregnancy brought on by the stress of the last few days.
As tea-time approached, I knew my opportunities to show off my self-styled resilience were dwindling, and so I pushed through the pain and the weariness to descend down to the second level. It was there that I started to question my resolve - the fight with Bofur really had knocked the wind out of my sails, and whatever good spirits had been buoying the strength of my body had been all but dashed, leaving my constitution greatly lacking. I would have given up the pursuit altogether had Mabel not met me on the landing on her way down. She offered her arm, not an uncommon occurrence given her cordial personality, and I took it gratefully. She didn't mention my relying on it for support a bit more than usual, and instead carried on with her usual small talk that fortunately did not require any effort on my part to keep the conversation going.
We met Flora at the base of the stairs, and while she returned her daughter's pleasantries with practiced ease, I could see her sizing me up with her shrewd eyes, gauging just how slow I was moving and how out of breath I was. I tried to hide it by smiling politely, though it was obvious that she saw through my ruse as she too offered an arm. Feeling it rude to refuse, and admittedly appreciative of the help, I allowed myself to be aided into the drawing room and led to a seat over near one of the windows where I was less likely to be disturbed. She then excused herself and hurried off to assist granny in making herself ready, as their ladies maid was dealing with dinner preparations at the moment.
Fortunately, we arrived before anyone else and it granted me the opportunity to rest as Mabel happily decided to do a bit of practicing on the pianoforte before tea time began in earnest. Quinton popped in with the tray and poured me a cup before retreating once more, and so I allowed myself to sit back and sip my soothing drink as the music and the familiarity of this routine began to revive me both spiritually and physically.
My peaceful sojourn was interrupted by the chime of the door bell, and furthermore by steps in the hallway as Quinton went to see who was calling. There was a pause, and I glanced over to see if Mabel showed any sign of unease after the events of two days past. Mabel played on, used to the comings and goings of company, though her melody seemed to slow - if only in my head.
I looked up from the instrument to the door into the entryway, and my teacup and saucer fell from my hand to the floor.
Méra stood in the doorframe, her composure already perilously close to crumbling at the sight of me, and my own hanging with it in the balance.
My breath caught.
Mabel stopped playing.
What would I say? More importantly, what would she say?
She started to advance on me, tears started to fall on both sides.
"Of all the reckless, foolhardy, stubborn situations you've gone and gotten yourself in, this one-" she worked herself up into a fervor on the way across the room, then stopped face to face with me and took better stock of our surroundings. "Well, actually, this one seems quite nice compared to some..." she admitted with a reluctant eye roll, followed by a small chuckle that broke through her grief and wrested a nervous laugh from me as well.
Any grudge I might have held towards her for her absence at my trial, in my utmost time of need, was forgotten in that heartbeat of an instant. She closed what little distance was between us and wrapped me in a veritable bear hug. I hugged her back tightly.
"I'm so glad you're alright!" she admitted while we embraced. "I've been so worried all this time. You might have sent a letter or left a note or…" she trailed off with a sniff and then drew back. As we parted, I noticed Mabel was still frozen on the bench of the pianoforte, staring at the two of us with puzzled bewilderment. Méra and I both straightened ourselves out, but before she or I could even offer anything by way of explanation, Flora appeared in the doorway.
"Your highness!" she exclaimed with a curtsy, "I apologize for intruding - I only just got word of your arrival. Can we offer you some tea or refreshments?"
Méra turned and returned the formality with her own slight bob, then nodded. "Anything you have is fine. Ah, is there somewhere we can have a moment first, in private?" she asked both her host and me as if unsure who to direct the request to. "We have lots of… catching up to do." she added with a bit of an awkward ghost of a wry smile.
"You can use the study for as long as you need." Flora agreed, and then looked me up and down with a crease of concern pinching her brow. "How are you feeling, dear, shall I call for Quinton, or would you prefer to escort our guest there yourself?" Not wanting to worry Méra any further than I must have these past months, I assured my host that I would be fine, and so she withdrew, only pausing momentarily to address her daughter. "Mabel dear, I'll need your assistance in the kitchen." With that, the matron turned and was off down the hall. Mabel rose, and with a curtsy as practiced as her mother she excused herself and left us alone.
"Lead the way." Méra said. "If they're as accustomed to royalty as I suspect, they'll be in a wee bit of a mad scramble preparing an unexpected five course meal for tea, so we should have plenty of time."
I led Méra towards the study with all the forced grace I could muster, though by the end of the trip up the stairs I was already feeling the cost of making the climb unaided. I meant to soldier on, and in my mind I felt I had the strength to, but my body was protesting to the point where on the top step I had to take a break. I stood clutching the handrail with one hand, the under supporting the weight of my stomach as I waited for my heavy breathing to subside.
Méra remained uncharacteristically silent, and I couldn't help but imagine the anger she must feel towards me for not including her in my confidence. Surely now she saw I had made my bed and now must lie in it.
Hall broke the silence as soon as he spotted me while he emerged from his quarters.
"Eleanor!" He exclaimed as he hurried around the banister to my aid. "Have you gone mad? You're white as a sheet, you shouldn't be out-" I silenced him and slowed his hurry with a held up hand, my other still clutching its support with a white knuckled grip. He looked me over with concern, and then and only then noticed my guest.
"Oh." he said, blinking with evident surprise. The last thing he must have been expecting was another dwarf showing up at his house. "You."
"Aye." Méra stated pointedly. "Me."
She caught up to me, linked her arm with mine, and with her support I managed to guide her into the study, finding I hardly had the energy to cast an apologetic look at Hall as we passed.
I closed the door to the study behind us, and then wavered there for a moment, trying to take even longer to work out what to say.
"I'm sorry…" I began lamely, extracting my arm and turning to face her, but she cut me off.
"You're sorry?" Méra scoffed. "I'm the one who came here to apologize!"
I stared at her aghast, then shook my head and stepped back to lean against the desk in the center of the room.
"No, that can't be right." I assured her. "I didn't tell you. I left without saying anything…"
"My people betrayed you." she pressed, and I could see her considering stepping forward, but then she second guessed herself and simply looked down at her hands. "…and I'm worried, well, I've been told that in a roundabout way, that I betrayed you too." She bit her lip, showing a nervousness I had never seen in her. "Things I said to others, used against you... no wonder you left without saying goodbye." She squinted up at me, but when she saw I was not furious with her, she seemed to reconsider, and changed her obviously rehearsed apology. Instead, she pouted dramatically. "You thought I'd ratted you out… Wait, maybe you should apologize, you ninny. How could you think I'd ever cooperate with such a sham?" she huffed, and my sluggish mind struggled to come up with a genuine response to appease her, so I said nothing for a time and we simply stood in silence.
I finally smiled a small smirk and looked up at her. "So, you were uncooperative, then?" I asked, and she scoffed. I could see the mischievous light catching in her eye and she blew a stray strand of hair out of her face.
"I crowned Da' so good I gave him a shiner." she admitted mirthfully, as if she was a naughty child admitting to stealing a cookie. The memory sustained her for a moment, and I couldn't help but smile along with her, and then she sniffed and tossed her hair back and straightened up. "Honestly, it was all behind closed doors, you ken, but the only one being more of a drama queen about it was Dwalin."
"At least I've still got two friends." I acknowledged, and Méra came up to lean alongside me on the desk.
"You've got more than that." she assured me. "Balin, Ori, Dori and Nori have all been helping us since you left."
I wondered if in my condition I had missed something obvious she had said, and so I had to ask her for clarification. "Helping with what?"
"To prove the bairn could be Bofur's." she stated matter-of-factly, leaving me quite unsure what to say. Here I had been hiding away for months, choosing to avoid my problems rather than face them, while my friends, admittedly more than I would have guessed, had been busy trying to solve the issue on their own. "Well, Nori has mostly been out scouting for you with Bofur all this time." Méra continued. "Baz and Darus were even watching here in the city for the first month too… Actually I'm surprised they didn't find you here earlier, I thought this would be one of the first places they'd look."
I shook my head, slightly abashed and tried to stammer out a quick explanation while trying to make sense of her confirming that Bofur had been searching for me. "No, Méra, I wasn't- I haven't been here the whole time." I frowned, wringing my hands together. "I never intended to come here at all. I was staying somewhere much more… discreet when I first arrived. In fact, I had always meant to move on, travel further… but I was afraid of being spotted at first and then…" I trailed off for a moment and then rubbed over my midsection. "Well, time slipped away from me and soon I found I was too big and tired to consider leaving."
Méra studied me a moment and then nodded before continuing on with her previous line of conversation.
"At any rate, Ma's even persuaded his royal highness to allow Balin to access the loremasters private historical records and libraries, which they were none too pleased about." she admitted with the same satisfaction I imagined her father had in getting under the skins of the crotchety old buggers.
"Why would she do that?" I asked her, a little dumbfounded. "Dain hates me, why would she do anything to help my cause?"
"Because we're family you dummy." Méra responded while reaching out to take my hand in hers. "We stood for you at your wedding - though I've felt it ever since I met you, I guess my mum saw it too, but the wedding made it official: you're an adopted part of our clan, so to speak. See, I've never really had a real friend, you ken? Even Kari always sees me as Princess first and Méra second, and I have to accept that, but with you it's easy… And Da doesn't hate you, I figure you just catch him off guard and remind him a wee bit too much of a certain unruly daughter he might always be worrying over - well, that, and the fact that you went and complicated the politics of the mountain more so than they already were when he took the crown, so perhaps he is a tad cranky about it all. Anyhow, mum took the less sentimental route and convinced him that if we could find something, anything, it might restore his reputation in the eyes of the elders - that and it would let us wipe the smug self satisfied smirk off old Roka's face for a while."
"Hang on…" I stopped her, still catching up with what she was revealing to me. "You, all of you, you've been trying to prove a dwarf and a human could have a child? Why?"
Méra seemed to think the answer obvious, but when I still looked puzzled her expression softened. "Because it is Bofur's child, isn't it?" she asked me gently, her eyes boring into mine.
The fact that her voice held no trace of scrutiny, or judgment, or even blatant curiosity made my eyes suddenly begin to water. She had poised it as a question but I already knew she believed the truth, believed in me. I nodded, resting my hand atop my stomach and struggling to keep my composure.
"I've never been in love," Méra continued, "but I've heard tell of what it's like to lose your One. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, none of us would I reckon…so if we can find a way to make this right, maybe it'll do a smidge of good in this bleak little world. Durin knows you and the Company have had enough hardship, why shouldn't we work to bring some of the hard won peace and quiet you've earned, hm?"
I looked at Méra somewhat piteously and with a slight frown of confusion, unsure if she was alluding to Bofur losing his first wife, or mistakingly thinking that I was his One, which of course was a nice thought, but couldn't be true - I had been told so more times than I wished to admit. Instead of bringing it up, I simply shook my head hopelessly and looked down at my hands. "Oh Méra, how could I ever go back to living peaceably in your world after all of this?"
Méra sat for a while, considering this, and then looked about at our surroundings. "Simple, really. Just don't come back then. That dank old cave is overrated anyways. Full of smelly old dwarves with overgrown beards and titles just as long, and 'dams with their 'how-do-you-dos' and curtsies all waiting to stab you in the back-" she drew in a breath and glanced over at me with a small 'oops', "Ah, sorry, poor choice of words… you seem to have found a good life here away from it all, is all I'm saying."
"They've been very kind to me." I admitted.
"See, you've got loads of friends." she agreed, though I still knew some would be more suspicious than her about my new life.
"Some are convinced it's more than just friendship… if I stay, then won't everyone simply think I'm guilty of what I was accused of in the first place?" I asked her with raised brows, but she simply scoffed.
"Anyone with eyes can see that dunderhead isn't really the father. The way he ran to you by the stairs hardly had the look of a lovestruck parent-to-be about it. I was watching, had to see for myself if the two of you were smitten. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but the way he looked at you was… eh, you've never had a sibling so you'd not know… you ken the look Ganin used to give us when one of us would smack the other a wee bit too hard with a training sword? Like that, but just a bit more sympathetic. No less preachy afterwards though I'd wager."
I didn't feel the need to enlighten her of my slight indiscretion from the day before. For my shared exploratory kiss with Hall had simply solidified in my own mind that, despite some prior hormonally driven musings, I truly had no romantic interest in him, nor he in myself - which was a comforting thought knowing that, even given the chance, I would not have been unfaithful in my marriage with him.
Instead I shot Méra a small smile. "Well, he does seem to feel responsible for giving his sisters and I a good lecture when we step out of line." I observed, then added "We do tend to give as good as we get though." I suddenly felt a pain lance through my back and tried to stifle a grimace. "I'd say I'm a good deal beyond the scrapes and bruises of a hard training session though."
"Come on then." Méra urged, helping me to my feet again and supporting me as we shuffled around to the chair behind the desk.
"You must think I'm being awfully dramatic after all I've been through." I bemoaned, leaning back gratefully into the seat and closing my eyes for a moment. "Melvna made it look so easy…" I lamented with a rueful grin.
Méra looked me over more critically then. "How much longer do you have to go?" she asked tentatively.
I spread my hands and gave her the ghost of a smile. "I'm not sure. I hope I'm nearing the end of it." I told her, my grin transforming into a frown. "I'm not sure how much longer I can handle, to be honest."
Méra seemed suddenly unsure, and it was always a rare thing when she hadn't any words to fill the gaps in conversation. Finally she clucked her tongue. "You'll have a good healer to attend to you?" she enquired, keeping her voice pointedly light. It made me wonder if she had heard the other remarks the healer had forewarned - that if a mixed child could indeed be conceived, a human mother was less likely to survive bearing it. I had only allowed a very small part of myself to indulge upon that worry, for the majority of my pregnancy had been so very normal and unfettered. Surely if it were all that dire, I would have felt ill-effects well before now.
I nodded and gave Méra as reassuring a smile as I could muster. "I'm sure I will be well tended." I said, then bit my lip for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. "And Bofur? Is he… alright? Did you see him?"
The young dwarf raised her eyebrows and chewed on her lip a moment before replying. "Aye, I saw him." she began tentatively. "He seemed about as well as you'd expect a sorry sod to be after a few months without proper food or sleep, and then believin' his lady love had forsaken him..."
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Méra. I need to speak with him. Can you tell him to come back to meet with me? Just one more time?"
Méra bobbed her head. "I'll do my best. If I can find him, that is." At my puzzled look she went on to explain. "Last I heard, he was headed towards the lower levels, mayhaps with a keg or two in tow."
I clenched my jaw but felt equal parts guilt and anger prickle down my back. I had not had the luxury of being able to escape my sorrows in inebriation, but instead had to spend every day in stark sobriety, with nothing to numb my thoughts save for whatever harmless distractions I could commit myself to. Yet then I had to remind myself that I had spent the latter part of the summer here, being pampered and with every comfort at my disposal, while Bofur had been on some wild goose chase through the surrounding countryside looking for me.
"Please, try your best. It's important." I implored.
Méra reached forward and gave my hand a squeeze. "I know it is."
Every day I waited for Méra, for word of a meeting with Bofur. And yet every evening, as the sun fully set, and the chance of a runner delivering a letter from the mountain dwindled to almost nothing, my spirit sank lower and lower. Along with my mood, my body truly began to experience new levels of strain and I began to hope that my labours would soon begin - even though I was secretly terrified of the prospect of it.
I stopped going downstairs. Simply getting out of bed was beginning to feel like it required every ounce of remaining energy and strength, and so traversing the stairs was definitely out of the question. I tried to eat, but found my appetite lacking. Sometimes I even refused help dressing for the day, simply preferring to wallow in my bedclothes with messy hair - much to Gwen's admonishment, for then she'd have to spend extra time the next day unknotting it all, especially as my sleep was so fitful that all the tossing and turning created quite the tangled mess.
August concluded and September was heralded with brisk mornings, warm afternoons and cool evenings, though I could not even enjoy the final nice days of the season from my window as I found myself increasingly bedridden, with very little energy left to even be afraid of what was to come next. I simply existed to try to seek solace from my body in sleep, desperately shifting this way and that to try to find a comfortable enough position to drift off. While awake, I was so distracted with various aches that I could barely spare any thought to the imminent future. All I knew was that Bofur had abandoned me, and that I wanted everything to be over.
The members of Hall's family all became more attentive. They tried their best to help, feeding me nourishing broths when I began refusing most foods, telling me idle stories of their daily activities to help pass the time, gracing me with assuring smiles and comforting words that almost made me believe there was nothing to worry about - save for the fact that I noticed their expressions change when they turned away from me and whispered words to each other with telltale signs of concern tugging their lips down into a frown. They called upon an experienced midwife, and then a more general healer, but both had the same unhelpful diagnostic after examining me; keep her hydrated, force her to eat, otherwise all we can do is wait.
I didn't quite believe when a small ache began coming and going in my back that it was the start of it all. It seemed so insignificant at first that I didn't mention it to anyone. As the night progressed it got a bit stronger, so much so that I could not take any rest at all. The following day I was in a sorry state, exhausted without any sleep and with the pain growing more persistent and spreading inwards towards my core.
I managed to get up a few times and restlessly walked about. I tried to stretch as best I could, tried sitting in the various chairs of my room, but nothing alleviated the discomfort, in fact, it only got worse as time progressed.
When Quinton brought up my midday meal, he quickly set it down, disappeared, and a mere few minutes later Flora and Adelaide came knocking.
"Oh dear, why didn't you call for us sooner." Flora admonished after she noticed me gritting my teeth while another cramp raked my body.
I shook my head and removed my hand from my back, waving them off nonchalantly before having to take hold of the bedpost to steady myself. "It's nothing, just a backache." I muttered somewhat breathlessly.
Adelaide and Flora shared a glance, and then Flora turned back to me. "No, you're having contractions my dear. It's time."
I frowned at her, and then sidled back up onto the mattress for a moment to rest, the pain momentarily lessened. I shook my head.
"No, no… I'm not ready." I said. In truth I was ready. I could no longer bear being in my own body. I wanted to feel normal again. I wanted the pain to be gone. And yet… I was just so exhausted, all I wished to do was sleep, and mentally I felt as if I were in a slight fog and couldn't fully comprehend everything that was happening around me. I didn't know what was going to happen, and I didn't think I had the strength to face it.
Adelaide must have noticed my expression turn fearful as she rushed over and took hold of my free hand.
"It's alright, everything will be fine." she assured me. "We will send for the midwife soon and before you know it you'll have your baby in your arms."
I nodded and lay back on the pillow. "What do I do?" I asked them, feeling wholly unprepared and rather uneducated in such matters.
Flora smiled gently. "Nothing for now. Just breathe through the pain and try to find whatever works for you to help alleviate it. Otherwise we just wait for those contractions to get closer together, and then we will call the midwife."
The afternoon progressed slowly. Agonizingly.
The contractions began coming more frequently, but still not close enough together to warrant any intervention. Flora told me that when they began occurring every five minutes, then they would bring in the midwife. I was somewhat disconcerted as I couldn't imagine being able to bear them that often, for they were already so taxing just occurring a few times an hour.
They were curious. They would begin with a quick rise in discomfort that soon heralded an onslaught of continual pain that radiated outward from my very core - though it almost felt like more of a pressure, one which filled my middle and pressed against my lower back and hips in the most agonizing fashion. It caused my body to tense and I had to actively force myself to keep taking breaths. But then it would dissipate, almost as quickly as it came on, leaving me with a growing ache in my back as the only reminder of the extreme pain I had just endured.
Tea didn't help. Hot or cold towels didn't help. Company didn't help - in fact I sent everyone off for much of the day so that I might crawl back into bed groan and writhe and toss and whimper through them without feeling as judged.
As evening set in, my last bit of strength was spent. I lay there, curled in on myself, tensing through the pain with tears running down my cheeks, then almost drifting off when it would pass. I felt slightly delirious and inexplicably hot, yet whenever I would toss the blankets off I would instantly regret it as a chill would then cause my body to begin to tremble and I would have to tiredly grope around to pull them back up again.
My feverish mind flitted in and out of wakefulness, and each moment of consciousness felt like it stretched seconds, minutes, into hours as all things blurred and my body continued its desperate struggle to sustain itself.
The sound of knitting needles clicking.
The shuffling of flowers being changed at my bedside.
The soft lull of hushed voices around me - talking, reading aloud, arguing, people living their lives while mine felt in a permanent limbo.
And then a cool cloth on my brow or a trickle of broth at my lips would send me back into the yawning abyss of mindlessness.
It was night when I next woke, yet I felt so dehydrated and nauseous that I immediately groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter. My whole body ached in ways I never imagined, and I felt flush with sweat.
I heard my name spoken out in the darkness, and the sound of the voice so near my bed reminded me of why I had tried so hard to rally myself into wakefulness in the first place.
"Hall?" I called out softly, my eyelids only half functioning to open a crack - not enough to adjust to the moonlight filtering in from between the shutters, but enough to make out the shambled form of someone hunched back in an armchair drawn up to my bedside. Hall seemed to have been busy inspecting some trinket - and after squinting I recognized my fathers old star shaped clasp twirling slowly on two points between his fingers, catching what little illumination entered the room. He looked over to me with a sleepy 'hmm?' when I stirred a little more, then set the heirloom on the nightstand and sat up straighter, so I continued.
"When we first met, we were both pretending - weren't we? I was Eleanor, and you were... crazy…"
"I really did have an uncle who talked to walls you know - Aunt Edna's first husband actually."
"It doesn't matter." I said with the ghost of a smile and lifted a hand out from the blankets to touch his arm. "We don't have to pretend anymore, do we? Can we just be friends - a girl from Laketown and a boy from Gondor?"
"You know, I've always found the easiest disguises are the ones where we weave the most truth into the fiction… Eleanor really was a barkeep who originally came from Laketown, and Hall really is a crazy young man from Gondor at heart, one who just happened to have his family inheritance thrust upon him, and despite our differences we really did enjoy spending time together, no matter who we call ourselves. I like to think we've always been friends, don't you? Besides, everyone wears a different face for every occasion. We're just the ones who are honest about it."
I meant to ask him how he knew so much about subterfuge right then and there - while we were talking truthfully. This was a man who could spot a spy from across a dark street in a snowstorm, a man who could talk his way into any conversation, seemingly talk his way out of any imprisonment, who could out-swim raging rivers to take on barges full of assailants, a man who won the hearts and minds and confidence of the people no matter where he roamed, and who had the ear of some of the most influential humans in the world, and he did it all under the guise of a light-hearted jokester of a merchant's son whose stumbling into greatness had been no more than chance and happenstance.
I needed to know his story - not so I could judge him or expose him, but so that I could show him the same acceptance that he showed me ever since my identity had been revealed.
I owed it to him.
And true to form, he knew my thoughts almost before I knew them myself.
"You wonder if there's still more to me. Let me answer you with a story; maybe it will help you back to sleep." I nodded and laid my head back against my pillow, then after a moment of silence he began.
"A long, long time ago, in a different age and a different world, there was a powerful race of men who had the favour of the gods. They lived longer than men today, and with those long lives they did great and noteworthy things. These men were admirable, and noble, yet in the end they were only men, and they were not perfect." He glanced over towards me to see if I was still awake, and must have seen the whites of my eyes glimmering in the darkness as he carried on. "In their imperfection, they were convinced to forsake the gods themselves, and for their transgressions the gods sent a great flood to sink their island nation beneath the sea. All of the realms on the continent that had been subject to them, whether out of friendship or by force, were cast adrift, as were the surviving members of the once great kingdom. Numenoreans, they were called, and though several ships escaped the doom, and many families came to know power and influence in the various realms of man throughout the world, their strength and their lineages have faded. Their descendants are scattered, barely a shadow of what they once were, but even weakened as they are, many still work to redeem themselves for their sins, using what gifts they still possess to aid the world in whatever way they can."
When Hall stopped speaking it took me a moment to snap out of the reverie he had brought over me. His voice had taken on an almost spiritual quality, unfamiliar to that which I had grown used to. It had been altogether spellbinding as he recounted this tale, with as much solemnity and devotion as any dwarven loremaster could muster, and yet despite the alleged age of this history, it was not wholly unfamiliar in its content - I wasn't sure where I had heard fragments of this story before, maybe in my childhood, maybe in Bree, or perhaps mentioned in one of my books, but something rung a bell… but then there was the other question - the question of why he told the tale in the first place. I looked at him puzzled, and he quickly returned to his old ways, idly picking at some unseen scrap of dirt under his fingernail for a moment before explaining nonchalantly.
"It's said that the most numerous of the Númenóreans were "golden-haired and tall, with fair skin and blue eyes." He looked at me pointedly for affect.
"You're saying you're part of an ancient race of magic men who pissed off literal gods enough to get an entire kingdom wiped off the map, and that somehow you've managed to track your lineage over three thousand years to prove you're related?"
Hall shrugged.
"Why couldn't you just say your family got lucky and you decided to do some good with your fortune? Isn't it enough that there's good people out there who will help others just because it's right?"
"I'm not saying it's the truth, I'm just telling you what my ancestors have been bragging about since time immemorial… a few distant family ties do suggest we're relatives of the Stewards of Gondor, who are themselves distant cousins to the Line of Kings, the Numenoreans who established Gondor in the first place… Granny makes the claim that she's one hundred and forty-seventh in line to the throne, though I'm not sure what would be worse, the catastrophe to bring about such a fate, or my dear Grandmother in a role of absolute power…"
"Is that why you're so good at everything you do?" I asked, propping my elbow up on my pillow to get an even better look at him.
"I like to think so." He grinned. "Because the alternative is that I really am just lucky, as you say, and it would be a stunning blow to my ego to run into a spell of bad luck in that case. I might not ever recover." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing in mock-stress over the thought, but instead of looking distinguished, the motion made his hair stick up at all manner of odd angles. The fact that he didn't seem to notice made it all the more amusing, and after days of self-prescribed abuse my body must have finally needed some relief, as completely unbidden I started to chuckle, and then to laugh, and his bewilderment only made my mirth more powerful. I laughed until tears streamed from my eyes.
And then the pain started again in earnest, and the laughter died in my throat. The body-splitting agony doubled. I sucked in a sharp breath and curled in on myself, wrapping my arms around my stomach. The contraction didn't pass but instead intensified, and in my last sentient moment I looked up to Hall like a wounded animal and begged.
"Find him."