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.
Keeping the fire low as the stew cooked in its large pot, I sat by the window mending the last of the shirts that I was supposed to have finished yesterday. Farmer Nager had told Bernd that he would be coming in to pick them up before the midday meal.
As the morning wore on, I watched the dwarf prince work, the hammer hitting the anvil, sparks flying as he forged something that looked like a wide sword. Behind me, the door opened and Bernd walked in.
"That smells excellent, sister," he beamed as he lifted the lid of the pot, and took a deep breath. He smelled of hay and sweat and as he rubbed his hands against his pants leg, he smacked his lips. "I'm starving."
Five minutes later, Bernd was seated at the table, slurping the stew hungrily as he wiped up the sauce with a slice of bread. He stopped to watch me slip on my cloak, pulling the hood over my head and put a few things inside a basket, which included an earthenware pot of stew and a set of bowls. I slipped two loaves of bread and Bernd tried to snatch one but I slapped his hand away.
"Whose is that for?" He asked, frowning. He knew that sometimes I made meals for Jürgen or old Farmer Nager, but usually the meals were simple, just a few pieces of bread and cold meats and vegetables.
"For Jürgen and his new blacksmith," I replied as I walked towards the door. I stopped as I reached the door, and cleared my throat. "Will you bring this to them?"
Bernd got up without a word and taking the basket from me, walked out the door. From the window, I watched him walk over to Jürgen's workshop and place the basket on the long table just outside the darkened space where the men forged their creations. Jürgen stopped what he was doing and immediately approached the table, his mouth in a wide grin as he wiped his hands on his apron.
He called for the dwarf prince still working in front of the anvil, unaware of the table preparations being made by both Jürgen and Bernd. Thorin's shirt had slipped open, revealing his broad muscular chest, the braids on either side of his face reaching the nape of his neck, resting there for a moment before he pounded against the glowing blade over the anvil again. I realized then that I was holding my breath as I watched him turn his head when Jürgen called his name again.
After ten minutes, Bernd returned into the house, but only to refill his bowl. "They've asked me to join them," he said, smiling. "There's so much talk about the dwarves in the village and this dwarf, Jürgen says, is the prince of Erebor. Can you imagine that? He really is the prince!"
I wanted to tell him that I already knew that, though if he had asked me how, I would not be able to tell him. I just knew. It was in his bearing, his eyes, the way he hammered the iron upon the anvil, the pride that showed on his face. It was the only thing he had left of his that no one, not even a dragon could take away from him.
And so he left the house and I was left to watch the three men inconspicuously from my window as they ate and conversed for some time. The prince rarely smiled, but when he did, his smile reached his eyes and they'd twinkle with something akin to joy that had left him when Smaug claimed his home. I caught the dwarf prince look up towards my direction, and once, his eyes caught mine before I disappeared back into the shadows of the house.
I busied myself inside the house, my appetite gone for the moment as my stomach tightened at the thought of Thorin with his broad chest, his shirt half open. It made me ashamed to think of such things.
A sound caught my attention and I looked up, thinking it was the farmer coming to pick up his shirts. I gasped as I saw Thorin's face on the other side of the window and instinctively, I drew back, deep into the shadows as the door, which Bernd had left ajar, was slowly pushed open and the prince stepped inside.
"My lady," he said, the basket of bowls and wooden spoons in his big hands. "I would like to thank you for an excellent meal. It reminded me so much of home. The herbs and spices -"
"It is an honor to serve you, my prince," I said, suppressing the trembling in my voice. "Please, if you will, leave the basket by the door."
Thorin did as I asked of him but he did not leave. Outside, I could hear Bernd and Jürgen laughing at some joke between them. He frowned as he turned to look at me, as if trying to find me in the shadows from where I had disappeared into.
"Why do you hide in the shadows, my lady?" Thorin asked in a low voice though I could sense a hint of suspicion - or was it disappointment? - in his tone.
"Am I?" I asked.
Just then Bernd walked in. He looked towards me and frowned for a brief a moment before he picked up the basket that Thorin had placed on my work table and began walking to the kitchen.
"My sister may be shy, Prince Thorin," he said. "But don't let her shyness fool you. Aleana is the best seamstress in town. And that coat of yours will be as good as new in her hands."
"Aleana," Thorin said, his face clouded in a frown, as if a thought had suddenly intruded into his mind, but he turned towards the door, stopping only to look towards me. "My coat needs mending, my lady. Would you be able to mend it?"
"Oh, yes, she will," Bernd said enthusiastically from the kitchen without waiting for me to croak out an answer. "I do not boast needlessly, my lord. Leave the coat here before you leave the smith's and Aleana will have it looking like new in no time. Won't you, sister?"
"Yes," I said, turning to watch Bernd walk out of the back door to return to the stables. My heart sank for I knew what Bernd really wanted. He wanted a copy of that coat, if not the coat itself, to trade to Lialam for the horse that he wanted.
Thorin clenched and unclenched his hands as he stood at the door, his back towards me. I stayed in the shadows, watching him. Why hadn't he left?
"Aleana. I have heard that name before - a long time ago," he said, as if to himself. And for a few moments, he stood by the door though he pulled it open, about to step out. "I hope, my lady, that we shall be able to speak freely later when I shall bring back my coat for you to mend. There is something I need to ask you."
"Yes, Prince Thorin, we can -" I began, stopping as Thorin turned to face me abrupty this time, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stared at the shadows where I stood.
He was about to take a step towards me when Jürgen's voice stopped him. The smith had a question about a certain metal that he was not familiar with. Without another word, Thorin stepped out of the door, leaving me alone with only the thundering beat of my heart to keep me company.
What had just happened? I brought my hands to my face, my fingers touching my cheeks nervously. But even as I asked myself what had just happened, I knew what it was that just transpired between us. He had spoken those last words in Khuzdul, I thought in alarm, realizing it too late.
For I had answered him in the same tongue.