The Shadow Walker

82. Unwelcome Surprises

After my coronation and improvised debut, the ceremony ended quickly and I was escorted to my new chambers. The King's chambers.

Dwalin opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. A massive bed dominated the center of the far wall, and to the left was a wide balcony overlooking the sheer mountainside. A desk was positioned to catch the sun's precious light, and behind it sat a regal armchair. To the right of the bed, a huge mirror was hung up next to an oversized wardrobe. In the corner was a bathtub, and shelves were set up to hold any number of accessories.

I shook my head, remembering the years I'd scoured garbage piles for my meals and feigned prostitution to avoid greater charges. "Isn't this all a bit...big?" I asked softly.

Dwalin chuckled. "Long has Dwarvish royalty been known for its opulence. It would not be wise to challenge your great-great-grandfather's taste so early in your reign, Your Majesty."

"Ugh," I muttered. "This is going to get really old, really fast." Sighing, I looked around. The wall to the right of the door, directly across from the bed, caught my eye. "What is this?" I asked, going over to the wood-carved artwork hanging on the wall. It almost looked like...

"A map," Dwalin answered, following me. "Carved by King Thròr himself."

I trailed my fingers over the wood grain, marvelling at the the intricate textures. There was no writing at all, but most of the landmarks were easily recognizable. Erebor was a prominent cone protruding from the wood, with a swirly river extending downward, finally gushing into the Sea of Rhûn. Mirkwood was a labyrinth of twisted tree branches, and the Misty Mountains were a formidible column of sheer cliffs and treacherous valleys, while Gondor and Rohan were mostly vast plains, interrupted only by the mountains Helm's Deep was carved into, and a handful of rivers. Small lines were carved into the wood, giving the illusion of grass swaying in the wind, and I had no doubt that Thròr had once been to every single one of these places, and visualized them clearly as he created this masterpiece.

Something else caught my eye, on the floor beside the map. "Is that a step stool?" I asked, looking at Dwalin.

He chuckled. "Yes, it is." He motioned for me to back away, and he pulled a lever on the wall beside the wood panel. Gears creaked, and the panel rotated on an axel running through the middle—the upper half moving back into a cut-out section of the wall, and the lower half coming up until it was perfectly horizontal. Dwalin scooted the top step of the stool under the protruding edge of the map, and he motioned for me to step up onto the three-dimentional map. "North, south, east, west," he said, pointing in the given directions. "This room was built to accomedate this very device."

"Wow," I muttered, walking up the stairs and onto the thick wooden slab. I already knew, this little knook would become my sanctuary in the days to come.

"My Lord Dwalin!" came Larika's sweet voice. "I brought Her Majesty's things, as you requested!"

I went to the edge of the map, just in time to see Larika come into the room, carrying my saddle bags. She froze when she saw me, and quickly dipped into a curtsey. "Apologies, my Lady! I didn't know you were here."

I smiled at her. "No need for all that; I'm still the same person I was earlier this morning." My eyes flicked between my bags and the map under my feet, and suddenly I got an idea. "Dwalin...there should be a compass in my bags somewhere. Would you get it for me?"

He grumbled something incoherent, but reluctantly obeyed. While Larika held the bags out for him to dig through, he muttered something about suddenly being everybody's work boy. Finally he pulled out the Foragar and walked over to me, holding it out for me to take. The pin pointed back over his shoulder...at Larika, interestingly enough. Or the balcony. I supposed that might be a possibility.