Do Not Go Gentle

PART 2 Preview: Maris, Daughter of Náin

"Tell me what happened, or I will stick you with Riptide."

Varis blinked up at me from where she was nibbling on a piece of bacon that had long since gone cold. "Did you just threaten me?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

She rolled her eyes. "I told you I would, did I not?"

"Then it's not a threat, just a warning."

She let out a faint huff. "How cordial of you. Most of the time you cut heads off first and warn them later."

I flipped my pen in my hand and watched as her eyes followed its every move. "You wanna tell me or am I going to have to fight you for it?"

She flopped back into her chair without her usual coordination and closed her eyes with a long, drawn-out sigh. I quietly watched as the burdens and exhaustion started to weigh down on her. "Very well. What I am about to tell you is a family secret that no one outside of these rooms should ever hear. I will just speak, and you must listen. This is not a story I wish to give many times."

I nodded, leaning forward in my chair and pocketing my pen so it wouldn't serve as a shiny distraction. "I can listen."

She cracked an eye open to look at me. "Can you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Then why do I have to repeat myself to you more times than I could possibly count?"

I shrugged, furrowing my brow slightly in annoyance. "Maybe you need to learn how to count."

She let out another huff of air. "You are not helping, Persie."

"Sorry."

Varis nodded, let out another breath, and slowly clasped her hands together in her lap. "When I was a girl, my amad to me the truth of her life, or rather, the life she had before she met my father."

I blinked. "And what life was that?"

Her hands tightened and her knuckles turned white. "My amad, Maris, was the daughter of Náin, son of Grór, the founder of the Iron Hills."

I felt my head tilt in question.

"The Iron Hills are east of the Lonely Mountain, Erebor. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, is the dwarf we met last evening at dinner. He is one of Durin's folk. I am one of Durin's folk."

My eyebrows shot skyward. "Wait, what?"

She let out a huff of laughter. "It gets even better, Persie. My amad, Lady Maris of the Iron Hills, was set to be wed to Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the King of Erebor."

I blinked again, in dead shock of everything I heard. "My gods."

Varis held up a hand to stop me. "But you must understand that she loved Thorin from the moment they lay eyes upon each other. It was destined since her birth, another tie between the clans of Durin- an alliance between the Iron Hills and Erebor that would make both Dwarven Halls the strongest in Middle Earth."

I let out a breath. "So what happened? Why isn't... I mean, why did she- well, you know?"

"Not become wed to Thorin Oakenshield?" She ran a hand down her face, which was far paler than normal. "She fell pregnant with me. It was a complete disaster-"

"But how did- I mean, didn't she love Thorin?"

Varis swallowed. "You... you would know what happened. She was... taken advantage of by my birth father, and when it became discovered that she was unfaithful..."