A Willing Heart

Two

I wondered how long Bernd would notice the princely coat, though now dusty and muddy as it hung from the nail along the outside wall of Jürgen's workshop. Its pelt still looked shiny in places and as I watched the dwarf who owned it pound his hammer against the anvil, my eyes would return to the coat that had once been of midnight blue with gold trim.

Now it was dusty, and grime had darkened it in places. And as each day went by, it only looked dirtier.

The coat was no longer fit to be worn by a prince, I thought, annoyance building with each passing day that I saw it turn filthier. It needed a good cleaning and mending.

But it wasn't just the coat that caught my attention. It was the man - no, the dwarf - who wore it. The same dwarf who'd shrug it off and hang it against the wall before rolling up his sleeves and beginning his work each morning.

Even Jürgen found himself admiring the dwarf's craftsmanship, coming over to the inn to show the other patrons just what his new blacksmith had forged. Once it was a small dagger, and the next day, a pendant with runes written upon it.

"For a prince, he's had to get used to doing all that hard labor," Jürgen mused one afternoon. "For a proud dwarf, it must have been difficult. Yesterday, the poor dwarf barely had anything to eat. He worked all through the midday meal, and only ate at the inn with his companions. And even then, they have to keep to themselves for the villagers are suspicious of them. They fear that they will bring the dragon to the village."

I stared at Jürgen. How could dwarves entice the dragon away from his new home filled wall to wall with jewels? But all I could say was, "And you never bothered to offer him anything to eat?"

"I'm a blacksmith, Aleanna, not a cook."

Suddenly Jürgen's eyes brightened as his face broke into a grin. "It has been a few moons since you've graced me with your wonderful cooking. Why don't I make you something for your kitchen, eh? You need another knife?"

I shook my head. I had enough knives in my kitchen, I thought, courtesy of the older man whose own family had perished along with my mother and father. To keep himself busy and his thoughts free from memories that would only drive him to tears, Jürgen kept himself busy by crafting weapons of all shapes and sizes.

He had even made me a sword which I kept in a box on the floor by the bed. "You do not need to make me anything, Jürgen," I said, smiling. "I shall bring you and your friend something to eat tomorrow."

The following morning, I watched as Thorin arrived early so he could set up his workspace, rolling up his sleeves around his massive forearms. But instead of working straight away, he sat down by the side of the workshop and puffed on his pipe absentmindedly at the valley below.

It was still dawn as he sat there and watched the sun rise in the horizon. I wondered what he was thinking of but from his face, I only saw sadness that saw no end. Was he thinking of the loved ones he lost when Smaug stole his home away from his people?

Inside the house, Bernd stirred. I could hear him stomping about, splashing water on his face and within minutes, making his way down the stairs as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was just another day and as he made his way to the barn to feed and groom the animals, I left the dwarf prince on his own by the side of Jürgen's workshop and proceeded with my own day.

There was so much to do, but not too much that I couldn't throw a few cuts of meat into a pot along with some vegetables to make a stew. I often cooked enough for Bernd and myself, adding a few more portions for Jürgen who only had the choice of food served at the inn. It was no bother to cook for Jürgen and the dwarf prince, I thought.