Esja did not often venture to the court of the King of the Iron Hills. Her mother and elder brother resided there, and that alone was usually enough to keep her away. But her dreams of the last months had finally driven her here to the headwaters of the river Carnen, the kingdom of Dain Ironfoot. Esja checked the clips securing her woven mithril veil, making sure it still covered her face below her eyes. Then taking a deep breath, she walked through the giant carved doors that guarded the heart of the Iron Hills. The great halls were bustling with dwarven trade. She made her way through the winding corridors, admiring the beautiful stone, lively trade, and finely crafted tools and treasures. She stopped at a storefront proclaiming love potions for sale.
"Oh, for Durin's sake, Hagny!" she muttered and walked in.
A clanging bell above the door announced her arrival, and Hagny's squat form appeared from behind a tall counter.
Hagny was short, even for a dwarf. It always seemed to Esja he was wider than he was tall. He had a full head of black hair and a long black beard that brushed the tips of his heavy boots. Esja pushed back her silver hood and shook her head, making her mask chime.
"Esja! Esja, my dear," Hagny said and hugged her, his face barely reaching her neck. "How long has it been? Well, it's been a hundred years if it's been a day!" he said.
"Hagny, love potions?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
"Heh, well, they're selling very well."
"Are they, indeed?"
Hagny had the grace to flush a bit at her tone, "Esja, don't lecture me! Without you here to help with tonics, I've had to scrabble a bit. And that mother of yours has been no help! She's so busy with court politics she hardly has time to heal anymore."
Esja's spine straightened at the mention of her mother.
"Did you hear Esra married Dain's granddaughter?" Hagny asked.
"I had not heard, nor do I care what either of them does," Esja said. "I am here for other reasons."
"What other reasons?"
"I've been, well, I've had, or I've heard... I mean, I wondered if you knew-," Esja struggled to link the words.
"You wonder if I've heard of a company of dwarves traveling from the Blue Mountains, rumored to be coming to reclaim Erebor?" Hagny finished with a grim look.
Esja stared at him for a moment, then looked away. Her mithril veil jingling softly in the silence. She turned back to Hagny, eyes filling. "So, it is true. What could he possibly be thinking! Why! Hagny, why is he doing this? Surely he has a life worth living in the Blue Hills. Certainly, he's found prosperity and made a family, why go there, why now!"
"I'm sure he's been told of the portends. He wonders, as do we all if Erebor lies unprotected."
Esja scoffed, "Unprotected! Because birds are flying around the mountain, now suddenly the dragon's dead. It's beyond ridiculous.
"The ancients say..."
"I don't care what the ancients say! I know that dragon lives!" Esja hissed. "And if I know it, then he knows it. And yet, here he comes to reclaim his kingdom."
Hagny and Esja stood in silence for a moment, then Esja asked, "What more have you heard, Hagny?"
"I've heard that they had a meeting, all the leaders, that he was told this quest was his alone. I've heard they travel in secret in the company of a wizard, Gandalf the Grey."
Esja's veil tinkled as a laugh escaped her, "Really, a company of dwarves, and a wizard, traveling the great East Road, in secret? You must be joking!"
Hagny smiled at sparkling green eyes, "Esja," he said, gesturing to her veil, "you don't need to wear that in here! Come, let me see your smile and I will feed you and ply you with my best elvish wine! Come!"
Esja straightened and pulled her hood up, automatically adjusting her veil.
"I will not remove it, nor can I stay. I only came to see if it was true. I must start back. Westhand is a small mining colony but there is rarely a day that some healing isn't needed. I've been gone too long as it is."
Ejsa turned to leave and paused, "Hagny, please don't tell them I was here."
"I won't, my girl." He stepped to the counter and pulled down a beautifully carved box, "Take this with. It's a wonderful collection of oils I've just received. They will serve you well in your vocation. Oh, and I remember how you love this one too." Hagny pulled a blown glass vial from the counter.
"Yellow Jessamine Oil still reminds me of you to this very day! Doesn't smell right on anyone else."
"Hagny, that is a valuable oil, don't waste it on me," she said.
"Please, Esja, for me?" he held the bottle out to her.
Esja sighed and accepted it, pulling the elegant crystal top from the bottle. The smell of sun and stone and springtime rain surrounded her. She dabbed a few precious drops at her wrist and neck. She handed the bottle back to Hagny, who tucked it into the carved box.
"Hagny..," she began but stopped. Esja took the box and bent to brush her veiled cheek against Hagny's heavily bearded one.
"I will put them to good use," she said.
Hagny harrumphed as she moved to the door, "Meaning you won't be making them into love potions. Is that what you mean?"
Esja glanced over her shoulder, "That is exactly what I mean. May your beard grow ever longer, Hagny."
Hagny almost returned the departing compliment, but at the last moment remembered himself and smiled, "Goodbye, Esja."
As Esja stepped out of the heavy gates and onto the broad plain that ran along both sides of the river Carnen, a steady East wind pulled the hood from her head and tangled her hair in her veil. She pulled her hood up again, hardly pausing on her way to the stables. Reclaiming her pony, she tied the box behind her saddle and mounted. Hoping all would be well in Westhand for a bit longer, she turned south, planning to turn west once she was clear of the foothills and head directly toward the Lonely Mountain. She bent, checking the knives sheathed, one in each tall riding boot. Placing her right hand on the hilt of the dagger at her waist she urged her pony into a trot.
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Thorin gritted his teeth as he rolled to his back. Opening his eyes in the dark cell, he could easily see the chip marks made by shoddy workmen long ago. Elvish stonemasons, he sneered at the thought. A fresh breeze blew through the barred window of the cell door, and as Thorin closed his eyes, it ruffled through his hair and tickled his nose.
"Jessamine," Thorin thought.
He sat up, rubbing his nose and face, looking around. He was sitting alone in a damp cell far beneath Thranduil's court. He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to banish her scent. He stood up and paced his cell from end to end. He pushed her face far away from him and focused on his company, picturing each of them, listing their skills, saying their names and lineage. He restated his quest to himself, pictured the halls of Erebor as he remembered them. He thought about the betrayal of Thranduil and his prancing court above. He thought about Bilbo. He raged at his helplessness. He swore in Khuzdul at the guard who brought him food, throwing the plate against the wall. He thought of his sister Dis and the Blue Mountains. He even tried to relive his visit to Rivendell, day by awful day. But In the end, his body, still not healed from the privations of Mirkwood, betrayed him, and he slept. And as every night since he had been thrown in this dungeon, she came and curled about him, stroking his beard and kissing his eyes closed until he belonged to her again.
He opened his eyes in his dream and found himself looking up at the low hanging boughs of an ancient pine.
"If you continue to lie there you're going to get wet," she said.
He turned toward her voice. She was sitting, smiling to herself as she twined Jessamine flowers together in a string. He sat up and pulled his knees under his elbows, looking down the mountain toward the bustling town of Dale.
"You've been training too hard if you're falling asleep before I even get her," she teased, looking over at him.
"How long have you been here?"
Esja smiled, "Not very long; I had to pick flowers on the way!"
Thorin smiled at her and her lap full of blooms.
"They interest you more than I?" he asks.
Esja lifted her wide-eyed gaze to his, "Oh, infinitely," she said, in contrived seriousness. "They only bloom in the spring, you know, and there's such a short time to gather them, and Hagny says...ah EEE."
Thorin pulled her onto his lap with a quick grab and sent her flowers flying.
"ThoRIN! Behave yourself!" she admonished and leant away from him to scoop her scattered petals and hide her smile.
"You first," He said and pulled a jeweled hair stick out of her braided coronet of hair.
"HEY! That took me forever to do today." Esja complained and grabbed for her hair stick.
Thorin easily held it above her reach as her heavy braid slid down his arm. He wrapped the golden rope around his hand and his arm. Pulling her nose to his, shocked when she turned her face to the side. Leaving him to growl in her ear.
"Kiss me," He said.
She leant forward, digging her elbow into his forearm, and whispered to him, "Make me!"
Startled, Thorin moved back, searching her face.
"Esja, are you angry..." he began, then stopped when he saw her eyes sparkling with mirth, her lips twitch to keep back the smile.
"Make you." He scoffed. He starts to push her off his lap but abruptly changes course. "I think I will, make you."
Esja's eyes widen at his tone.
"You will?"
"I think I will make you beg," he says, that familiar crease in his left cheek beginning to appear.
Esja put a restraining hand on his chest, "Oh. No, let's not do that." Esja shifted backward a bit further, "Thorin?" she said as his hand tightened on her waist.
Thorin shifted to his knees, letting her slide to the ground, then pressed her back onto the blanket of pine needles.
Esja pushed both hands against his chest, "I don't think I really need to beg today. Do you really think it's a good idea? I mean, it's rainy and wet, and heaven knows who could come along and need to shelter under this pine, and then what would we do? You can't just have the crown prince running around.."
"With his betrothed," he said as one of his braids slid past her cheek, and he propped himself on his elbow above her.
"Durin, especially not with that idiotic girl!" she agreed.
"Do you want to kiss me now?" he asked.
Esja closed her eyes. She couldn't think straight with those blue eyes stroking the boundaries of her very soul. She felt his rough fingers unbraiding her hair, its strands catching on his calluses. His beard brushed lightly against her cheek. The scents of leather, stone dust, and rain surrounded to her.
"Yes." Even with her eyes closed, she can see his smile. "Durin. This is going to be brutal, isn't it?"
"Open your eyes," He says.
Esja does.
"No, it's not," He says and kisses her until she forgets how to breathe.
Just as Esja is about to demand full measure from him, Thorin rolls back, pulling her over to his shoulder. Esja lies still and practices breathing. Thorin catches her hand before it slips to his waist and holds it firmly to his chest.
"If you just lie there, you're going to get wet." Esja says, as an ice-cold drop of water splashes on his forehead.
Thorin turns his face to her hair and breathes the scent of the Lonely Mountain in spring.
Her green eyes twinkle at him as she says, "Don't say I didn't warn you!"
At that, Thorin is torn from sleep by the dashing of a bucket of ice water to his face. He jups to his feet surrounded by wood elf guards and is ordered to attend Thranduil. His arms and hands are roughly bound behind him and he is shoved, shivering, out of his cell.