The Complete Works of Lady Oakenshield's Adventures

Chapter 4 -- Music to My Ears

The sweet song of the harp wound its thread through her consciousness. She opened her eyes. She knew he'd be in his chambers and his side of the bed would be cold. He didn't play like that until he'd practically broken the strings with the Battle songs he dreamed up. "I wish he'd write them down." But he would not. "They're mine alone. They live and die with me." No one would ever hear those songs. Even she had only heard a snippet, quite by accident, and it was enough to tear her heart in two. He'd found a way to surround himself in a bubble. You could see him play, the harp strings vibrating, pulsating madly. His fingers moving at a blur. On his head, a massive jumble of undulating long black hair, keeping time with his feet slamming relentlessly on the harp pedals, metronomes of his own making. Luckily the harp and strings were constructed of Mithril. Nothing else could have withstood his relentless battering. Lady Oakenshield got up, slipped on her robe and tiptoed quietly into the next room. Thorin was just finishing a beautiful song, one of the few he had written down. It was the story of how they'd met, fallen in love and became mates. She never tired of hearing it. The deep velvet sound of his voice caressed her, and the melody wrapped her in a warmth that made the summer sun jealous. Thorin looked up and gave her that tilted head, side-wise look he had. It could melt the snow on the top of the Blue Mountains in the middle of winter. The Blue Mountains, so far away and so long ago. A different life, and what could have been a very different future had it not been for a simple twist of fate. Thorin's song reminded her how contrary her life was to what her father had planned for her almost from birth. Lord Kazadar Goreksson, shouldn't have complained. His oldest daughter was the life-mate of the King Under the Mountain, the King of the Dwarves. But he had. He had complained so much that he'd been banished from the Mountain. His chief complaint had something to do with reopening trade with the elves of Mirkwood and the all the kingdoms beyond the Misty Mountains. Because of the antagonistic relationship between Thranduil and Thorin it was unlikely that would have happened any time soon. Now she only heard of him when her mother came to visit, which was getting more infrequent. Mother was in her last trimester of pregnancy with her twelfth child. It wouldn't do for the child to be born in Erebor. Father would never forgive either of them, so Lady Goreksson would miss her yearly visit. "A Cantar for your thoughts my moon and stars," Thorin broke into her reverie "Oh, I was just thinking that I am going to miss Mother again this year." "Do you want to go to the Blue Mountains, since she can't come here? I couldn't come with you unfortunately, but I'd send a company with you." "Thirteen dwarves, and not the best and nor the brightest, I believe Balin called them." "I didn't say The Company, I said a company. And I think they proved themselves worthy, several times over, don't you? Anyway, there were fifteen of us. Bilbo and Gandalf would be disturbed to think you forgot them." "And who would lead this magnificent company of daring dwarves to the Blue Mountains? It would have to be Dwalin, I think. Then it would be Dwalin's Daring Dwarves!" "Now you're being disrespectful. Some day it will get you in trouble, my girl, and I will have to teach you how to be respectful. I think that day is now." He picked her up and carried her into her chambers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his luxurious hair. After a few minutes of his tutelage, she forgot her mother, father, the Blue Mountains, and as usual when they were together, her name. A few minutes after Thorin left to do whatever it was he should have done that morning, Lady Oakenshield sat down to write a few letters and contemplate a trip to the Blue Mountains. The Most Honorable Lady Corrianna Goreksdattor was born to Lord Kazadar and Lady Kelemon Talcdigger Goreksson on a windy Mersday during Halimath. It should have been an omen to Lord Kazadar that an ill wind was blowing his way if he thought he was going to have any control over the future of the dark haired, blue-eyed beauty currently nursing loudly at her mother's breast. "She's a wee bit of a thing, my wife. Will she survive the winter?" "Aye, and she'll be your pride and joy. She's destined for the greatest of adventures, milord. She needed no help from the midwife to come into this world. She came of her own accord and announcing her arrival at the top of her lungs! I can only hope, should we be blessed with more sons and daughters, they come as easy as she." Lord Goreksson whose name meant "Crafter of the Necklace" was the descendant of one of the crafters of Nauglamis, known as the Necklace of the Dwarves, the most beautiful necklace ever crafted during the 1st Age. It was commissioned by King Thingol who then refused to pay for it. The Dwarves who were also enthralled by its beauty and the Silmaril embedded in its center, had killed him, stolen it and headed home to the Blue Mountains. They were attacked and most of them were killed. The necklace was lost. The surviving Dwarves scattered and some returned to the Blue Mountains where they prospered. It was now the 3rd Age of Middle Earth, and it was time to return to what the Dwarves did best, selling the articles they made from the precious jewels and metals they mined from the mountains. The hoards they stockpiled were overtaking the living spaces. The Dwarves were rich, but they were starving, their homes were falling down. Some of the people were wearing rags, some children nothing at all. There were too many things you could not grow under the mountains. They needed to buy food, clothing, building supplies. How many Mithril jackets could one Dwarf wear at a time, especially if it was made the size of a man? It was time to put aside old grudges, begin negotiations and restart trade. Lord Kazadar had prayed for a daughter. He knew he could sell her to one of gambling houses. Dain was the biggest flesh peddler he knew, and he knew the Elves and Men. "Damn the Durins, all of them." "Careful what you wish for, milord, sometimes wishes have a way of backfiring," Lady Kelemon warned. "Especially on a windy day such as this. The wish can blow back in your face." He should have listened to her, for that's exactly what it did, years later, when he'd certainly forgotten what he'd said that day as he stared at his ticket to fame and glory. Lady Oakenshield's head was resting on her arm as she slipped into a soft slumber at the table. She rode a dream swan, carrying her back to her 50th natal day. She'd known it was going to be a special day, first because she would no longer be a nestling, but also because she would be given the first real contribution to her dowry. It meant her parents had made arrangements for her marriage and she wouldn't be a maiden aunt. At fifty, she didn't care who it was she was going to marry, just that she was going to marry someone. "Father, when am I to meet my future husband?" The shy, but beautiful young girl standing in front of him, batted her blue eyes questioningly at Lord Kazadar. "Not for a while, my dear daughter, not for a while. Lord Dain has not chosen between his sons, yet. I can tell you it will be either Lord Gron II or Lord Nain III. Both are most willing to have you as their mate. Now run along and play with your little friends. I'm busy." Lord Kazadar wiped off the sweat that had broken out over his lip with his sleeve. "That was close," he thought. "She'll meet her new life when the price is right. Lord Dain hasn't offered nearly enough for her. I'll sell her to one of the Broker Men in Mordor, before I'll sell her for what he's offering. Besides he's promised to introduce me to the Mirkwood elves. He'll not lay an eye on her until that's been accomplished no matter how much he's offered me." It was nearly a year later that Lord Kazadar sent for his daughter. "I am sending you to Erebor, girl. You need polishing. You are willful, disrespectful, and have no manners. You will learn the ways of the royal court, and some manners. You will learn respect. I have enrolled you in a finishing school run by an old friend of mine. She will take you in as a student and as an apprentice. You will live with her in the city of Dale. She is the cousin of Balin, a warrior, and Thorin's second, third or fourth cousin. I can't keep those cousins straight. Anyway, you are to leave on the morrow. Say good-bye to your friends and family. You'll not see them for a long time." "But Father, I haven't packed! I don't know what to take with me! I haven't shopped for new clothes! I can't go tomorrow. I need at least a month to prepare to go to Erebor!" "Your rooms are being packed as we speak. You will get new things in Dale, once you get there and see what the new fashions are. You will not dress like a poor relation. You will have ample funds to buy whatever you need. It will take at least two weeks for you to get to Dale. You'll have that time to prepare yourself. This conversation is over. Good-bye daughter. Try not to disappoint me." So it was that the future of a young, brown haired, blue-eyed beauty was set in motion that neither she, her father, nor a handsome young King Under the Mountain could have ever imagined. Two weeks passed more quickly than she could have visualized. Before she knew what was happening, the young Lady was in Dale. It was more than she could take in all at once. The magnificence of the buildings and homes lining the streets, stores overflowing with food and drink. It was nothing like the caves and hovels her people were living in. Her people sat on bags of gold and jewels, slept under jackets made of Mithril, but ate stale bread made from the few meager crops of wheat and rye that a few Dwarf farmers managed to eke out of the over-used soil. Her clan drank fetid water gathered in rusting barrels from the spring rains. Here clear, cold water sparkled in a beautiful fountain in the center of Dale. The children splashing it over the side, as they chased each other around the rim. "If I were home, I wouldn't have had the water they're wasting to drink in a week," she thought. "Home, I think I should never go back there again." "We're here, milady. We'll just let you out here at the front door and then take the coach to the back and get your things unloaded and taken inside." Her two coachmen and maid had been her only company on the two week trip. "What will you do now that we've finished the journey?" "Oh, well, uh, Merabella and my Dad were wondering if you'd give them your blessing to become mates? They've grown partial to each other these two weeks," said Oglin, the younger of the two Coachmen. Boglin and Merabella turned pink cheeked and shyly smiled at her. "We've nothing to go back to in the Blue Mountains. We'd like to stay here with you. We'll look for quarters and Dad and I will hire ourselves out as public coachmen, using the coach. We'll pay you rent for it's use. Merabella will stay as your maid, of course." The Lady laughed and brought them all to her in a hug. "I am beyond delighted to give you my blessing. As a wedding present, Boglin, I give you the coach and team. To you Merabella, I will buy you a dress to wear at your mating. When I get new clothes you may have all my other dresses. To get you started, young Oglin, I give you 30 Cantars. That should get you housing, food, and whatever supplies you need to start your business. Now before I start to cry uncontrollably, let us go meet my new teacher, shall we Merabella." Londaelyn Snowbraids was something to behold. She was four foot, five inches, no matter which way you looked at her. She was 4'5" tall. She was 4'5" wide. She was 4'5" from front to back. If Merabella measured her, she was sure, she'd have measured 4'5" diagonally, too. She was the most perfect square on two feet in Middle Earth. Her braids were of course, 4'5" long and as noted by her name, snow white. She'd been born with white hair and ice blue eyes. If her newest pupil didn't know better, and it was possible she didn't, she would swear Lady Snowbraids' parentage included one of the winter bears that lived in upper reaches of the Misty Mountains. "Let me look at you child," Lady Snowbraids had a silvery voice that went perfectly with her physical features. "You are a pretty one, aren't you? You take after your mother. If I remember right, your father was a bit trollish. He wasn't bad looking, just not my type," she chuckled. "A bit of a stiff, if I recall. Always out for the almighty Cantar Never satisfied with what he had. Oh well, not my business. You on the other hand, are my business." She walked around her protege, poking and prodding, lifting her hair, sniffing, humming and hawing. "I think we can make something of you, after all. I like to think I can take a dog's ear and make a velvet hat out it, or some such saying. I can never remember what those poets say. They make no sense to me. Fit for a King. That I understand. That's my goal. I am going to make you fit for a king." She'd figure out that jolt to her head "She is here," later. "Is one of Dain's sons to be a king then?" "Nope. Not in his or my lifetime if I can help it." "But I'm betrothed to one of Dain's sons." "Are you now girl? Which one? Gron or Nain?" "Well, I don't precisely know. Father never told me. I'm not to know until the mating ceremony." "What if I told you I have someone else in mind for you? A young fellow who's had a bit of bad luck. Lost most of his family, some to wars, some to Orcs. Lost his home when Smaug came to Dale. Rebuilt his life, got some of his money back. Needs someone to keep him company in his old age. He's not bad looking in a rough sort of way. Doesn't braid his hair enough for my taste, but some of the ladies seem to like it. Keeps his beard short. Says he feels better that way. No accounting for taste, I guess. This younger generation, where is their sense of tradition? Oh, plays the harp, fairly well. Likes weapons. Got some royalty in his family tree." "Don't we all?" the young lady laughed. "I would like just once to meet someone who doesn't have royal blood parading through their veins." "That would be me, milady," snorted Merabella. I just got red blood. Nothing blue about it." "Oh, Merabella, I am so sorry. I didn't mean..., I..." "Think nothing of it, milady. I get to be milady's maid. It's closer than a lot of them get to be." And so it went. Day after day, month after month, the young pupil learned how to eat, how to talk and how to dress. To be truthful, Merabella learned how to dress her, how to fix her hair in the elaborate fashions of the day. How to hide small daggers in her bodice or in her hair, just in case someone got too chummy or too close. A quick prick of a small dagger, usually sent them packing. Milady learned how to hold a teacup in one hand, fan herself with the other hand, and keep a fresh young male dwarf at bay with her left knee, while never once taking her eyes off Lord Balin during a conversation. She attended many a ball or celebration in Dale. She longed for the day when she would be invited to attend one under the Mountain. "One day, perhaps," Lady Snowbraids told her, "one day." After she'd been at the school for almost three years, word came that her father was arriving within the month on his way to the Iron Hills to attend to some business with Dain. He would stop at the school to check on her progress and to see if his money was being well spent. It was time to accept one of the many invitations she'd received from inside the Mountain. She'd waited for just the right moment to present her pupil to the Under the Mountain folk. She was going to have to plan this very carefully. She couldn't just throw her at him. Court flirting was an art she was a master at. Her pupil was not. She did not want this to be a night of fake flattery and move on to the next girl. She knew as soon as she had seen milady that she was the one. "I can only do so much, then they have to take it rest of the way." "Lady Snowbraids! Lady Snowbraids! A golden envelope! It's an invitation to the Lost Tales Ball! We've been invited! Can we go? Oh please!" "What day was that?" "Sterday, you know that!" "Isn't that the day we wash the windows? We don't really have time to go to a silly dance." "Oh, okay. I just thought, well, it's the first one we've gotten from under the mountain. May I keep it as a souvenir?" "You give up too easily, child." "You mean..." "Yes, we will go. You will wear the new silver dress we've been saving for just such an occasion. I will call on Lord Balin to see if he and the Lord Dwalin will escort us. Which would you like to have as your escort?" "Might I have Lord Balin? I think he's dreamy." "He's old enough to be your grandfather." "So, it doesn't mean he isn't still handsome." "I''ll tell him that." "Don't you dare, then I'd be too embarrassed to go to the ball with him." The next three weeks went slower than a hedgehog who got into Radagast's mushrooms. It was finally Sterday and Lady Snowbraids' house was bustling with activity. Lord Kazadar had arrived a few days earlier and was staying at a castle he'd rented for two weeks. He was incensed that his daughter had not packed up and moved over there to be near him. She told him if he'd let her know earlier she could have made arrangements but with the ball and her studies she just didn't have time to be at his beck and call. She would try to find some time to see him after the ball, of course. "I'll be escorting you," he'd demanded. "No, you won't, she'd calmly explained the situation to him. "I already have an escort and I'll not tell him a day before the ball that I'm going with someone else, especially someone who's had no time to even write me a letter in three years, and complained to Mother that I spend too much money." "How am I to introduce you to Dain if I am not escorting you?" "You should have thought of that before rushing here like a deranged warg. Aside from that, how exactly did you contrive to get an invitation? They only went out three weeks ago, barely enough time to get to the Blue Mountains, let alone get you all the way here."' "To tell the truth, I don't have an invitation. That's why I must escort you." "Sorry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hundred things to do. Good bye father and good luck to you." Boglin handed her into the coach. "Please take me home." Coach after coach paused, discharged its bejeweled passengers and left whence it came. The crowds hoping to catch a glimpse of the royalty that lived outside the mountain, swelled with each coach. "Is that..," "There's Lord..," "Who's that with Princess...,"mixed with the oohs and ahs of the people. The King Under the Mountain had provided for the crowd as was his custom. There was food and drink aplenty. There were pavilions set up for people to sit and eat or rest during the arrival of the famous, and later, the departure, which could be just as exciting to see, when watching who was helping who to their coaches, or who was leaving with who. "He's a very popular king it would seem," milady mentioned as they began to gather up skirts and cloaks in preparation for their departure from the coach. "Will I get to meet him, or at least see him from afar?" "We'll see, my dear, he is after all, the King, and we're just simple Lords and Ladies." Lady Snowbraids winked at Lord Balin behind her back. "But Lord Balin, isn't he your cousin?" "He is my sweet, but there are always dozens of people surrounding him all the time. If we are given a chance, we will try to get close enough for you to get a glimpse of him." " I will be forever grateful, milord," she snickered. "You still haven't been able to break her of being saucy have you?" "Nope." Milady tried very hard not to act like a child at Yule looking at all the presents next to the log blazing in the hearth, but it was very difficult. There was just so much to see. Three hundred foot statues of King Durin I at the opening of the Mountain. Once inside, statues of all the kings, and right in the middle of the foyer, the tombs of King Durin I and King Thoror, the current King's grandfather. She remembered a curtsy was required before moving much further. She could come back later, read the inscriptions and walk through the gallery of portraits, if she had time. Right now she needed to keep moving or the line behind was going to walk right up her back. As she moved into the ballroom, she was struck by the grandeur of it all. Candles blazed in solid sapphire sconces all around the perimeter. They lent a soft blue haze to the ceiling like twilight. Diamonds twinkled in the ceiling like stars placed in such a way to feature all the constellations in the sky. If she didn't know she was under the mountain she would have sworn she was staring at the sky outside. A large amber stone moon hung by an invisible string in the center of the room. Small intimate tables of four were set around the walls. Each had a ruby flower with emerald leaves and stem set in a crystal vase centered on a hand tatted tablecloth. Instead of seats each table was outfitted with a soft curved love seat for each couple. No one would sit with their back to the dance floor this night. The dais for the King sat at one end of the long hall. There were two large thrones, covered in the most incredible blue she had ever seen. On each side of the thrones was an ebony table with the same table dressing as on the lower tables. On the seat of the throne to the left was a crown. A filigree crown that looked as if it would shatter if you blew on it. "Lord Balin, there's a crown on one of the thrones, who's is it?" "It's the future Queen's. Let me take you to our table, then if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll get us some refreshments and return shortly." "Certainly milord, you are most kind." The evening went mostly as planned. She danced with a variety of Lords and Princes. She chattered about nothing in particular, and talked about specific things when required. "I think I'm going to take a stroll through the gallery to get some fresh air," she whispered to Lady Snowbraids. I'd like to see the dead kings, since I've been unable to see the living one." "Very well, my dear. Have a nice time. Be sure to look at King Thoror. He was a handsome one." She was alone in the gallery, or thought she was until she heard some footsteps coming down the corridor. "Thank the gods no one ever comes in here anymore. I can catch my breath." "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just looking at the portraits, if you want to be alone, I can go back to the party." Lady Oakenshield slowly opened her eyes. She smiled. She remembered as if it was yesterday the night she first met Thorin. She'd be interested in what he remembered about that night. As she got up from the table, she realized he was asleep on the bed. She quietly slipped out of her robe and joined him under the pelt. He moaned softly and without opening his eyes, took her to himself and they left the world to care for itself. "Thorin, do you remember the night we met?" "It was the beginning of my life. Of course I remember it." "Will you tell me about it?" "Very well. Let's order dinner and I'll tell the story of how a tiny speck of a thing brought me to life." He'd been busy all day, signing this treaty, sparing that blackguard from the gallows. He was really in no mood to be the host to a bunch of degenerates who were only there to see and be seen. Mostly to be seen standing in the ever widening circle of so-called friends of the king. He had 12 friends. They knew who they were. They did not need to be stroked or told constantly that they were his friends. They did not hang on his every word. They were honorable dwarves, who had been willing to give their lives for him. He would never put them in that kind of danger again, but he knew he could count on them if he needed to. They had followed him to Mandos and back. Oh well, there was no getting out of this one, he was in it. Two hours. Then he could make his grand speech, tell everyone how wonderful they were and leave. They could tear the place down and steal the tablecloths for all he cared. He suffered the smothering Lords and Princes trying to find a place at his War Table for an hour, then turned them over to Nori who stood listening intently while he quite expertly picked their pockets. He next had to listen to the clucking of mothers, aunts, and grandmothers chirp about the attributes of the lovelies being paraded in front of him. Yes, there were some beautiful women, he admitted to himself. He wouldn't mind bedding a few of them once or twice, some of them he thought he already had. A long-term relationship, who were they kidding? There were even a few whose bodies should have never been attached to those faces and vice-verse He could do some incredible things to that body, but couldn't get past that face. He could kiss that face, but he didn't desire boys. He had to get out of here. "Thank you ladies for a lovely time. If you'll excuse me. He gave a little old grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "I wish you were 100 years younger,"he said, winking at her. "I wish I were too, Your Majesty, if only for one night." she sighed. He laughed, the velvet sound of it causing several women dancing to faint in their partner's arms, as he walked away. "Damn that voice," could be heard from several directions. He walked down several corridors but always found lovers hiding in alcoves. He headed for the Kings' Gallery. You didn't have a liaison with several dead kings looking over your shoulder. He walked in and took a deep breath. "Thank the gods no one ever comes in here anymore. I can catch my breath." "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just looking at the portraits, if you want to be alone, I can go back to the party." She had startled him. As she stepped into the light of torches surrounding King Thoror's portrait she turned and he stared into a pair of blue eyes that almost mirrored his grandfather's. "I was trying to get some fresh air myself. It was starting to get warm in there and noisy." "I know what you mean." He walked toward her. She started to back up. "I can leave you alone. I've had enough air." "No stay. It's okay. There's enough air for both of us. The folks on the wall don't use much." She laughed at his joke. A tinkling sound that grabbed his chest and squeezed until he thought maybe he was wrong and there wasn't enough air. "Are you here with someone?' "Yes, Lord Balin, and I should get back. He hopes to get me close to enough to catch a glimpse of the king. I think he's a very nice man for feeding the crowds outside the mountain. Most royalty wouldn't think to do that. "You've never seen the king then, even from a distance?" "Oh, no. I'm from the Blue Mountains. I was sent here to learn the ways of court so I could be married to one of Lord Dain's sons." "Lord Dain's sons? They're both already...they have..who...um..who's your father, if you don't mind my asking?" "Lord Kazadar Goreksson." "I see. You wouldn't be apprenticing with Lady Snowbraids, would you? "I am at that, why?" "I think you should go back to Lord Balin now. It isn't safe for a young lass like you to be out alone with dwarves like me, roaming freely in the corridors." "And what kind of dwarf are you?" "The worse kind. The kind who might want to steal a kiss from a beauty like you." He could see by the slow blush rising up her neck that she had never been kissed, or had never been offered a kiss by a stranger in dark corridor standing in front of the only escape. Apparently Lady Snowbraids hadn't gotten to the Court Flirting lesson yet. She couldn't be the daughter Kazadar was selling to Dain. He wondered why Dain wanted her. "So my girl, is it a kiss for me to let you pass, or do you stay with my grand, uh, fellows all night?" His voice was like molten lava in her head. Although he was still in the shadows, she could see he was dressed in fine blue leather breeches with a jeweled jacket lined with long haired fur that wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. He wore a wide belt of solid gold. His hands were simply adorned with a ring on each middle finger. She could see that his hair was long and dark and had some simple signets in the front braids. He was not overly braided like some of the dandies she had danced with. They were dressed even fancier than she was, and when they twirled her around during some of the more intricate dances she had to duck to avoid having her eye put out by swinging hair beads. He had blue eyes, of that she was sure. Blue like the snow in winter on the mountain when the moon shone upon it. He stepped closer to her. He could see she was tempted to bolt, but something was holding her to him. As he continued to watch her he could see her expressions change as rapidly as the lights of a prism hanging in a window. He knew if he touched her now the moment would be gone, shattered, and she would run like a rabbit chased by his hounds. Unfortunately for him, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap her up in his pelt and carry her off. He wanted to hide her from that filth she called Father. "A kiss, then you'll let me pass?" She was prepared to either stab him with the dagger in her hair or knee him if he really tried to kiss her. She didn't care if he was the most magnificent specimen of dwarf hood she had ever set eyes on, handsome beyond the mind's ability to comprehend, with a voice that melted your brain and left you delirious, he was not getting a kiss. Maybe not. He suspected she was arming herself when she suddenly yawned, stretched, and put her hands in her hair. She didn't know he'd been Lady Snowbraids' tutor, showing her how to surprise would-be attackers from frontal and rear assaults. Together they worked on making techniques that were teachable to vulnerable young ladies. Being armed meant she was also ready to do him extreme pain in the nether regions if he wasn't careful. But he didn't want this kiss to turn into a battle for survival either. It was not to be a prelude to an assault. No that would not do at all. Especially since she did not know who he was, and he'd prefer not to have to hang himself for being a barbarian or her for that matter, for attacking the king. He took another step forward, then slid side-wise as she made a move to stick the tiny knife in his leg. Of course she missed, and in missing, started to stumble. She would have fallen had he not reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist. In one fluid move, he turned her, pressed her body against his, and molded his perfect, velvety soft lips against her half-opened, rose-shaped ones. Individual existence as they had known it, did not survive their first kiss. Her virginity, the second. If he had been asked when he began life, he would have said at that second, not years earlier in his mother womb, a spark from his father's desire. She'd breathed life into him with the initial gasp when his lips had first touched hers, then possessed his own with an intensity he could never have imagined would have existed in such a small entity as she. She devoured him. He could not have escaped her, had he wanted to. She entangled her hands in his hair, she raked his scalp with her nails. She pulled, she nipped, she bit, she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. He retaliated by crushing her tiny body to his. He pushed her clothing out of his way to get to her skin. He wrested the jewels from her neck, scattering them across the floor. He'd give her a hundred necklaces to replace that one. He tore at the pins in her hair, loosening it, to fall into his hands. Without stopping to look where he was going, he kicked open a door, shattering the door jamb, and carried her into chambers off the gallery. He opened one eye, and spotted the chaise against the wall. He turned and fell backwards onto it. It wouldn't have done to fall on her. He'd have crushed her for sure. She never let go of him for an instant, but climbed up his body like the massive tree trunk it was. He grabbed the front of her silvery dress and rent it from top to bottom. She gasped at the feel of air on her skin. There was no turning back now. She struggled to unfasten his shirt but found no opening. He took her hands away, and pulled it over his head. She was almost paralyzed at the sight of his magnificent body. From his beard to the top of his leather pants and unquestionably continuing downward, was a solid stream of black curly hair branching out toward his massive arms. Tentatively she ran her tiny fingers through it. She felt his muscles ripple under her hands. "Is there more to see?" she looked at him innocently. "I don't even know your name," he whispered against her neck as he struggled to get out of his breeches. "Nor do I know yours." He finally got untangled from his pants and tossed them to the side. "Who are you, fair princess?" "Who are you, fair prince?" Now was not the time for small talk. They came together in a tempest of desire, need and release that was palpable. Later as they lay together, sated and lethargic, casually covered by the pelt, she said, "this was worth even more than meeting the king." He coughed, and said, "Really, I wonder what the king would say to that." "Do you know the king?" "Intimately." "Is he as nice as they say he is?" "He has his moments. He can also be a bastard." "I doubt that very much. Is he as handsome as they say he is?" "Do you think I am handsome?" "I think you are just about the most magnificent looking man I have ever seen, a bit arrogant for asking if I think you're handsome, but yes, you are extremely handsome." "I've been mistaken for the king a time or two, at a distance." "Well, your almost a Majesty," she laughed, "I have to leave here, and I'm not sure how I am going to go with my dress in tatters, my hair a mess, and the gods only know where my jewelry is. What are Lady Snowbraids and Lord Balin going to say? I can only imagine what they are going to think of me now, although for some reason I don't care, if the truth be told. If I were to die tomorrow, I would die happy. This time with you was worth every wicked thing anyone will ever say about me, the condemning looks they will give me, or that I shall never be mated with Dain's son. You, my dream weaver, were worth every second. I must say this is not like me at all." "I will mate you in one month from tomorrow. We will just need time to invite a few of my friends, and Lady Snowbraids will want to have a few days for preparations. I have a little money, a home and think I can provide for you in a manner you can become accustomed to." "No, you needn't do that. I am willing to suffer the consequences." No, I insist, and I am not accustomed to having my wishes denied." "Well, I will have to think about it, and discuss it with Lady Snowbraids. I will give you my answer tomorrow. Now, how do I get out of here with as little fuss as possible?" "Stay here and I'll see if I can find Lady Snowbraids to help us out." He found his breeches in a corner and shrugged into his tunic. He left by a door she hadn't seen. She knew she would mate him even before she told him no. She would be a fool to walk away from someone who looked like him. She would ask Lady Snowbraids about him and his family line tomorrow. Physical attributes aside, he seemed to be a nice enough guy. If he beat her once in while, well she'd stab him once in while, then they'd be even. The secret door opened again and Lady Snowbraids and her soon-to-be mate walked in, followed by Lord Balin. "Well, you're a sight, aren't you, my dear?" Lady Snowbraids was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh my Lady, I've been a wicked girl," she said, "my fair prince here has offered to make me an honest woman. I need your counsel. Should I accept his offer? I don't even know his name." Lord Balin broke into peals of laughter. "Shall I do the honors, laddie?" "Aye. Get it over with. I am prepared to take the punishment." "My dear, may I introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, King of all the Dwarves of Middle Earth." "Thor...King Und...you are a Bastard. I wouldn't mate with you..she started to say just before she fell to the floor in a dead faint. "Oh, I wasn't prepared for that punishment. And for everyone's information, my parents were legally mated." She woke up on the chaise with Thorin leaning over her. "Are you quite finished fainting my love? You gave me a scare. Shall we announce our mating plans now?" "You're the King? Of all the Dwarves? I'm in love with the King Under the Mountain?" "Unfortunately." She reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek. "Unfortunate for you maybe." Lady Oakenshield smiled as she remembered the fast-paced preparations for the mating. At the time she couldn't understand why Thorin was so intent on having the ceremony within the month. She wondered if it was because he was worried that she might be with child. She assured him a week later, she was not and that they could take the time needed to ensure everyone who got an invitation would be able to make it. He explained that the Eagle King, Gwaihir, had promised quick transportation to anyone who needed it. It wasn't until a week before the ceremony that two incidents happened that brought to a head the reason for the rush. First, Lord Kazadar demanded Right of Fatherhood. That meant he had the right to listen to all the reasons why Thorin was an acceptable mate for his oldest daughter. If there was any reason he was not acceptable, he could stop the mating. Thorin spent the better part of the day relating all his virtues to Kazadar and his six sons. At the end of the tribunal, there could be no doubt that he was worthy. The simple fact was he was the King of the Dwarves. It was then Thorin decreed the Lord Kazadar was no longer welcome Under the Mountain effective immediately after the mating ceremony. Second, Dain showed up, it was assumed, for the mating ceremony, he was after all, Thorin's cousin. In fact, he was there to abduct the soon-to-be Lady Oakenshield. He'd already paid a great price for her with Kazadar, and he was looking to defray that cost by setting her up in one of his gambling houses. Of course Thorin didn't know about those, he'd never have understood the money to be made from men and elves who craved forbidden love especially from those not of their kind. What Dain didn't know was that Thorin had moved her into the Mountain for her own safety. He knew what Kazadar had planned with Dain and he was taking no chances. She was never out of sight of any one of his thirteen closest friends, the thirteenth being Lady Snowbraids. Some places the laddies just couldn't go, even for Thorin. Two days before the ceremony, four of Dain's men attempted the first of their ill-conceived plans of abduction. They tried to steer her away from Bofur and Nori while they were shopping for some last minute gifts for her ladies-in-waiting. Jostling her this way and that, they were able to separate her from the lads for all of about a minute before finding themselves locked in a rotten food container being pushed down the back alley on its way to the incinerator. The next day, another group tried one more time while she was at her last fitting. She was changing into her mating dress when the seamstress was suddenly called away by Thorin. A new seamstress took her place, one who didn't know which end of the scissors to use. Luckily Dori and Gloin did. They would never find the bodies. The new Royal Seamstress would never leave Lady Oakenshield without checking the identity of the messenger first. Some people found it odd that Dain suddenly left before the ceremony, stating urgent business in the Iron Hills, and with at least a dozen less men marching back than he brought to the mountain. It was a grand ceremony, fit for a king and his queen. They struggled through all the well-wishing. As quickly as possible they made the rounds to get the party started and just as quickly slipped through one of the Elvish doors leading to Thorin's chambers. The first time she walked into Thorin's chambers she thought they made a wrong turn. It looked like an armory. Swords, arrows, and battle axes lined the walls. Arrow heads were in piles on the floors, on tables, in chairs. Shields were stacked everywhere. There were family crests hanging on every wall. The giant bed was rumpled and covered with clothes and battle wear. She hoped he didn't expect her to sleep here. "This isn't our bedroom is it?" "It's my bedroom. Yours is through that door." "We sleep in separate rooms?" "I didn't say that. I said your bedroom is that way. There's a bed in there. It was made especially for you. It belongs to you. The furniture in there is yours. The room is yours. It's your bedroom. I said nothing about sleeping." She walked to the door and stepped through to a wonderland of winter and forest greens. Everything that she owned was there. They had moved her from Lady Snowbraids' house while she was mating. Her bed was a massive swan-shaped barge, having a curved neck and jeweled eyes just like the boats of the Elves of Lothlorien. It was filled with pillows, rugs and furs. It was like nothing she'd ever seen or even imagined. There was a forest green chaise along one side of a hearth big enough to roast a full sized ox in. The dressing table was facing outward with bottles of oils,waters and creams, in uncountable sizes and shapes covering the whole top. There were couches and chairs and ottomans scattered everywhere. Still there was room to hold a party in her room. It was the size of Lady Snowbraids' dance studio, and could comfortably hold 150 people. "It's a bit small, isn't it?" she snickered. "Thorin went to his door and opened it yelling, "Guard! Get the Royal Builder! Lady Oakenshield doesn't like her chambers! They are too small! We need to enlarge them!" "Thorin! I was joking!" she screamed. "Ha," he laughed, "joke's on you. I don't have a guard outside my door." Unfortunately for the two of them, the guards just happened to be changing at that exact time and they heard the king yell. It wasn't more than five minutes later that they heard a timid knocking on the door. When Thorin opened the door, there stood a dwarf with glasses on his head, a pencil and pad in hand. "I am the Royal Builder, Your Majesty. I understand you need some construction done in Lady Oakenshield's chambers." When they finally stopped laughing, their sides were sore and the front of Thorin shirt was wet from Lady Oakenshield using it to wipe the laughter tears off her face. The Royal Builder was left standing at the door, pencil in hand, waiting for instructions. "You've no need to stay, Master Builder, it was a silly joke. You've outdone yourself." Lady Oakenshield planted a kiss on his cheek. He turned a radiant shade of red and backed away bowing as he went. "Always at your service, Your Majesty." She closed the door and leaned against it. "I'll have to remember not to yell in the corridor." "Or too loudly in bed if the door is open," Thorin mentioned, "someone might think you're being approached." "Overwhelmed, set upon!" She started giggling. "Oh absolutely. I certainly feel the need to protect you from being set upon." Thorin picked her up and carried her to the bed. "Shall we set sail, the sun to my earth, on the adventure of a lifetime?" In the coming months they found it more enjoyable to share Lady Oakenshield's chambers than Thorin's. He dressed and played his harp in his chambers, but with the frequent addition of a new weapon or shield to his collection, Lady Oakenshield found his chambers less romantic and much more intimidating. "It was a wonderful day wasn't it," Lady Oakenshield smiled. "The night was quite unforgettable, too, my love." "Thorin, will you play again?" "I was thinking of playing." His eyes raked her body as he rose from the table and stepped out the bearskin slippers he wore when playing his harp. He let his dressing robe fall away from his broad shoulders. He shook his hair loose from it, and heard her intake of breath. It was then he let his robe drop to the floor. " I have a flute you can play." "I don't play the flute." He slowly turned around. "Oh,OH!"