Though the city's stone walls and paved streets held the heat of the warm autumn days quite well, it had all but dissipated by the wee hours of the morning, and despite all the prowess of Dale's designers in days of yore, the elevation in the upper parts of the city exposed the most noble of its citizens to bracing winds in times when the seasons were in flux. Wind chimes hanging from nearby trees and buildings rang out in harmonious pandemonium, and the earliest of the leaves to succumb to the whims of autumn were toppled by the very same biting winds that now drove them onwards, sending them spiraling about in ecstatic twisters around every corner and into every courtyard.
Hall emerged into the chill with a grimace, focusing on pulling a riding glove over his fingers instead of the pair of sisters that were both talking at once in an unending stream of babble as they followed him out the door. He set a brisk pace towards Quinton across the yard, noticing with immense gratitude that he was already almost done saddling the sleek charger that he had requested Quinton to rent a few hours prior from the city stable (much to the delight of Mabel who had ensured the animal was brushed to a sheen and supplied more than a few choice apples).
The poor beast tossed and stamped about under the abrupt yet competent hands of the man at his side, ungrateful for being woken in haste long before sunrise. Quinton, by contrast, seemed steady and alert as ever, and to his credit was proving as competent at horse care as he was at every other outlandish task Hall had ever assigned to him.
It was to this beacon of steadfast stoicism that Hall attuned his own emotional compass, rather than the incessant buzzing of his family hard on his heels.
"I hope it doesn't rain." Hall observed from halfway across the lawn, his first words since telling his family he was leaving and updating them on their patient's turn for the worse. If anything, his passé attitude did nothing to abate the chatter, and in fact made it worse, but at least Adelaide and Mabel were talking to each other as much as him now.
"-and one of the girls in the market was saying that midwives can't always make it in time, and she had to have her baby on a dirty-"
"It's not likely to, sir. Wind from the north but no moisture in it." Quinton pointed out, stepping back to let Hall examine the saddle for himself. It was going to be a fast, hard ride, and he wanted to make sure everything was safe for both himself and his animal.
"-then there's feverfew, which is good for fever naturally, but can't be used during pregnancy, but she won't be pregnant for much longer will she?-"
"Right you are." Hall agreed with Quinton, adjusting his glove once more to ensure the correct grip. "That should still make for a miserable ride come to think of it, but so long as the moonlight holds."
"-but of course granny delivered mamma alone with just Edna - who was only three years old…-"
"Not a cloud in sight." Quinton offered the reins to Hall.
"-and mugwort is out of season anyways, which is a shame as it could calm her down-"
"A moment." Hall held up a hand to refuse the reigns and then turned to his sisters, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. The sudden shift in attention silenced them both.
"Have courage, sisters, and calm yourselves. If it seems to be time and the midwives and physicians don't arrive, do whatever Rosalin and mother ask, and if Granny wakes make sure they pay her heed - If she let any highborn Gondorian doctor run the show when any of us were born, I'd eat my hat."
Adelaide seemed unconvinced. "Surely you would be more help than us…"
Mabel pouted. "Why does it have to be you?"
Hall looked at Adelaide in mock flattery. "Thank you Adelaide, but I fear stunning good looks and quick wit would not help to charm the baby out. If I'm being honest though, I've seen plenty in my life, but that I can do without for the time being. Besides, it's not my place. Which brings me to your question, Mabel. Two reasons, really. First, because she asked me to. I would do the same for any of you, and while that alone is enough, the second reason it needs to be me is because, well, I think I just might be the only one he'll listen to."
"Weren't you thrown in prison the last time you visited, brother dear?" Rosalin asked as she too crossed the lawn towards the gathering.
"No no, you're forgetting the wedding." Hall corrected with a grin. "So, really, my odds of getting thrown in a cell are about even this time." With that, he swung himself up onto the horse and adjusted himself.
Rosalin pushed through her sisters and laid a hand on the neck of the horse for a moment, a small frown the only betrayal of her own feelings on the matter. Then, she smirked to herself and looked up at Hall. "Do try to come back with all your fingernails this time. It really was a bother at tea time having to watch you fumble with your cup and saucer."
Hall smiled and showed off his gloved hands. "I'm better protected this time. Have breakfast waiting for us!" He shouted back towards them as he urged the horse off into the night.
Hall had heard several secondhand reports of the Battle of the Five Armies since his arrival in Dale several months ago, and one event that seemed to stick in the minds of the elderly and infirm who survived the attack on the Great Hall was that of a fierce young woman who helped lead the charge against the orcish advance, only to take Bard's horse and charge off down the main thoroughfare upon learning of survivors from the Company of Thorin. Descriptions always varied though, as they oft did when witnesses were stressed beyond reason, and so he never made the connection between that warrior and his friend, the mild mannered barmaid, until the wedding during which he had overheard several dwarven veterans of the Battle claiming they witnessed parts of her arrival and ill-natured flight through the battlefield.
The similarities between then and now were not lost on him as he raced down the Main Street, finally grateful for the early hour and, more specifically, the relative desertion that came of it. Their path was the same, a flight to the causeway and then to the Lonely Mountain itself, and at the end of their ride, the goal: the very same dwarf.
And their chances of success? Was he now facing a situation with similar insurmountable odds?
But then, he never did like to worry about the outcome of a three part plan when the first two steps were still before him.
Step One: Get to the mountain… And then into the mountain.
The ride was about as comfortable as he had expected, and his face stung by the time he dismounted at the gates to Erebor. Having never entered the mountain at such an early hour, he had no idea what to expect, and so was surprised to find the gates already open for the day and manned by several dwarves that looked to range all through the various levels of drowsiness.
Hall approached the most important looking dwarf of the bunch and produced the signet ring Bard had provided him for official business on behalf of Dale, and just like that, part one of his plan (and admittedly the easiest) was accomplished.
Step Two: Find Bofur.
Step two relied on a good deal of luck, and a hypothesis of his proving to be true. There was no timely way Hall could find one dwarf in an unfamiliar underground city several times the size of Dale, and so he was hoping to rely on his assumption that if she had one friend in the mountain (that being the princess), then she likely had more.
Her description of the trial had included less than a dozen participants, and judging by the fact that he'd not heard any rumors or gossip about her at all, bad or good, it had him convinced that the outcome of the case had been kept a secret - not just by the accused, but by the prosecution as well. That meant the majority of the mountain's inhabitants would be indifferent towards her at best, and those that were friendly to her before just might be still.
He went to the nearest messenger and pressed a silver coin into the lad's hand, keeping his clasped over it as he spoke.
"I need to speak with one of your diplomats. Urgently." he stressed, looking at the dwarven youth (who was likely twice his age) with all the authority he could muster. Hall could tell right away that it wasn't quite enough to be convincing though. The messenger, no doubt used to the overdramatic dwarven upper class bossing him about at the drop of a pin, and maybe more than a bit jaded for being placed on the early morning shift, seemed like he was about to suggest he take his silver coin and shove it up his arse, and so Hall knew it would take a bit more persuading.
"Look…" Hall leaned in conspiratorially and looked the dwarf up and down. "I've been told by some, mostly dwarves actually, that I have a rather… unsettling personality. I know a fine upstanding gent like yourself would never leave his post unless he was delivering a message, but if you want to stick about and listen to me prattle instead of doing your job, I'll be here, talking, the whole time. One of the last visits I had here, they even threatened to cut off my tongue after ripping my fingernails off didn't get them what they wanted." He held up his pinky on his left hand. "This one even festered after. The skin was an incredible shade of purple, and the stench-"
"Fine!" The dwarf growled sourly as he chose the less annoying of the two options being presented to him, then proceeded to wrench the coin from Hall's grip and stomp off at a quick pace.
Hall allowed his eyes to cast about over the immense entrance chamber while he waited - not that he believed there was a chance in hell Bofur would be wandering through, but if there was a chance he could spot someone who knew him…
He wasn't given the chance, as the messenger seemed true to his word and already not just one but both of the dwarven diplomats were hurrying across the hall towards him while having a rather hurried conversation. He listened in as they got within earshot.
"-you don't think word of her friend will cheer her up?" The dwarf named Baz was calling back as he led the way, to which the other, Darus, responded skeptically.
"Baz, the last time she obsessed over something this badly was when her friend disappeared in the first place, and then she worked herself up into such a frenzy that even Ganin tiptoed around her."
"Nonsense, she hasn't even thrown anything at you this time. Besides, she wouldn't hurt us if we bring her news."
"Assuming he even has news." Darus narrowed his eyes as they came to a stop before Hall. "If you've woken us up at five in the morning just to talk about those damned lemmings again I swear to Durin""
"I have news." Hall interjected quickly. The two dwarves shared a look between each other that Hall interpreted as equal parts relief and anxiety.
"Follow us." Baz urged, and then the pair turned and walked away before Hall could even tell them the real reason he was there. He opened his mouth to call after them, but they moved with such haste that he was forced to follow them with a grimace.
The office that Darus and Baz led him to, located not far from one of the many entrances to the mountain's plentiful mines, had been neat and tidy once not so long ago. He could see that the piles of maps and journals were dust free, and that plates of food were all fresh yet untouched, suggesting all were new additions to the workspace. The usurped mine captain they passed working at a cramped desk in the hallway further supported the fact that the room had been repurposed recently.
In the midst of it all, a disheveled dwarf was pouring over a pile of papers with all the care of a dragon in a mountain full of dwarves. Even from behind, Hall could tell the youth was at his wits end with whatever task he had been assigned, and based on the unkempt nature of his clothes and hair tied back into a single tight but fraying braid that disappeared into the back of his tunic, Hall reckoned the worker had been at it for some time now.
He wondered just how many, like the diplomats and this miner, had been pressed into the service of the princess. And where exactly was the princess anyway?
Looking at Darus and Baz only earned him a pointed look in the direction of the other dwarf, whom they seemed reluctant to disturb, and who for his part seemed oblivious to their presence. Hall took a deep breath to collect himself, and then cleared his throat and crossed the floor.
"Excuse me lad-" he began, only to be cut off by a scoff from Darus and a chortle from Baz.
He recognized his mistake only a second too late. Fatigue was making him sloppy.
Red hair in the braid.
Not a lad at all.
Méra whirled about to face him and stormed towards him, looking like to swing a punch.
"He's got news!" Baz shouted, and Méra noticed the others for the first time. She glared between the trio for a moment, and then crossed her arms brusquely.
"Well?"
Hall hurriedly laid out the events leading up to his trip to the mountain, and then revealed his purpose, much to the dismay of the dwarves. The tired look they shared between themselves said it all.
"So you have no idea where he is?" Hall asked as Mera's face betrayed her with the ghost of a pout, and then followed when she beckoned him over to the maps. "I've been searching for that blockhead ever since he returned to the mountain. Guards swear he hasn't left, and I've checked half the lower levels myself… so…"
The silence that fell over the group was telling.
Hall studied the maps, saw the areas crossed off, and all the ones yet unexplored. The odds were against them, time as well, and they had just as much chance of tossing a stone at the map and searching there as finding him with any sort of means or method.
Unless…
Hall reached out and fished a map from beneath the others. The runes were unfamiliar, but the contrast in geography suggested residential areas rather than mines and storage.
"How far is it to their apartments?"
"You can't be serious." Méra scolded, rolling her eyes.
"I am. Did anyone actually see him in the lower levels, or did you just assume-"
Méra bit her lip, but then shook her head.
"You saw him the same day I did. He was done with all of it - with her. What makes you think he'll be lounging at home with all the demons of his past?"
"My grandfather used to say: 'There's good in everyone. Sometimes you have to look real hard to find it, but it's there.' Why don't we try to see the good in him, for her sake?" Méra seemed unconvinced, so he pressed further. "Look, for all his faults, our friend chose him, again and again, and she still has faith in him - even now. Maybe we should have a little faith too."
Darus drew up behind Méra and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Hall reckoned her usual bravado would have led her to swat the hand away, so it was a testament to how overwhelmed she was that she instead leaned back into it slightly.
"We dwarves are quick to anger, but just as quick to forgive, are we not? Maybe he's forgiven her…" The dwarf pointed out to his princess. "Anyway, It's the first new suggestion we've heard in days. I'm all for it, because otherwise I'll have to start helping you down here, and you know how much I chafe in mining trousers."
"Alright alright!" Méra shouted throwing up her hands and knocking Darus' aside. "But if he's put me through all this just to be sipping tea on his veranda, I swear…"
"Time for that later." Hall promised, and she nodded in return, then they were off through the mountain again with haste.
Step Three: Convince Bofur to come back to Dale.
Méra quickly led them to the designated apartments. Hall fancied himself being in rather good physical condition, yet he was somewhat winded after having to tackle an insurmountable amount of stairs at a breakneck pace. He placed the blame on the early hour after a sleepless night, rather than having to admit to himself that he wasn't quite as fit as he thought. He had a moment to collect himself, however, as the dwarven princess, in some measure of apparent frustration, pounded on the door with such an intensity it made Hall grit his teeth.
"Do you reckon he heard you, or should we knock louder?" Hall asked dryly when Méra took a pause to brush the hair back from her face.
"Oi. I'll show you knocking louder. Bofur! If you're in there, you best open up, or I'll break this bloody door down!" Her voice rose to a yell and she began pounding again in earnest, as if the door were the sole object of her ire.
Hall was beginning to lose faith in his suggestion, perhaps the dwarf had gone and lost himself in some deep cavern and ultimately perished. Just as the thought 'good riddance,' flitted through his mind, the door abruptly swung open.
Méra caught her fist just in time to avoid hitting him, though as surprised as Bofur looked to see the princess in a bit of a rage outside his door, his eyes widened still when he noticed Hall.
"What in Durin's-" Bofur began, but Hall held up his hand and quickly cut him off.
"I need to speak with you." Hall said firmly, stepping forward and hoping to make his case before Méra went off on a tangent. "Alone." he added, glancing towards the princess, who seemed to be trembling with some pent up emotion. He knew her intervention might make it difficult to convey the true importance of why he was there.
Hall didn't expect the dwarf to acquiesce and so was surprised when Bofur stepped back and flourished a hand inward. Hall turned to Méra and placed a light hand on her arm to get her attention.
"You can knock his head in later. Please, wait here for just a moment." he implored. Méra snapped her face up to him, frowning, Hall met her gaze and held it steady, then after a moment she huffed, blew a curl from her cheek and stepped back to lean against the adjacent wall with a surly expression.
Hall nodded in thanks and tentatively stepped inside Bofur's rooms. The dwarf shut the door behind him and Hall turned to face him.
"I suppose you're here to collect the rest of her belongings then." he drawled, walking past him and to the hearth where he tossed another small log on the fire that was burning there.
"What? No." Hall replied distractedly while quickly taking in his surroundings. Based on Méra's earlier predictions, he had half expected to find the place neglected, riddled with bottles and spilled tankards, evidence of Bofur living in a drunken stupor. Clearly this was not the case, as he was met with a very tidy, even cozy, living area, and Bofur himself seemed stone-cold sober - that, or the dwarves really were good at hiding the effects of their liquor.
"So what then," Bofur continued, straightening up and crossing his arms, his expression darkening by the second, "shall we draft up an annulment contract so you can go ahead and marry her yourself?"
Hall tried not to bristle but instead held up his hands in what he hoped was a display of peace. "No. Please, I need you to listen to me. You need to come with me, back to Dale."
Bofur's eyes sharpened. "Why?" he asked after a moment's contemplation.
Hall took a cautious step towards him. "You're wife. She needs you. You must trust me when I say that if you do not come now, you will regret it forever."
Fortunately his words seemed to have the desired effect and Bofur's guarded persona seemed to crack just a little. Bofur frowned, though he stayed rooted to the spot, still somewhat leery of Hall's request.
"Time is of the essence here, we must go." Hall urged, his voice taking on an impatient edge. "She's labouring right now… but she seems weakened…" he trailed off and let his words hang in the air, leaving the rest of his thoughts unsaid. It was enough, as Bofur curtly strode to open the door.
Méra was anxiously waiting and heaved a sigh of relief when Bofur entered the hallway.
"Bofur, you do know what this means?" Méra said to him, she seemed to have time to calm herself while waiting as when she spoke her voice was low and her demeanor uncharacteristically somber. "If she's having the bairn now…"
Bofur's expression was somewhat anguished when he nodded. "Aye. Run to the Healer. Demand an audience. Make her come."
Méra hurried off down the hallway while Hall watched her go, slightly confused. "What does it mean?" he questioned, rubbing the side of his face to keep himself awake.
Bofur fixed him with a stare, crossing his arms. "I thought you were supposed to be clever?" he admonished dryly. "When did you first meet her?"
Though slightly taken aback by the question, Hall thought for a moment before answering. "Late January." Then the reason for her enquiry dawned on him and he set his jaw. "Ah yes, now you finally have the proof you need, to finally believe her word, don't you? Nine months ago my family and I weren't even settled in Dale, so it would be quite the stretch to imagine that I somehow still fathered this child."
To his small delight, the dwarf in front of him looked uncomfortable. He wanted to further chastise him, to make Bofur squirm with regret, but instead he shook his head. "We have to go." he said with a measure of authority.
Bofur nodded determinately at Hall.
"Right then, lad. Take me to my wife."