Welcome to my latest experiment: the first-person story. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

I said I wouldn't do it. No doubt mother will back him up though. What nerve he had to march into my chambers as pleased as a pig with a personal food trough to tell me he'd finally found me a husband! Ha! As if gangs of them wander lost in the woods waiting to be rescued. As if I were looking? No, he sold me in exchange for a new trade route. Now thanks to him, pack horses will drop piles of dung in my honor all the way to Erebor and back. A lovely tribute if I do say so myself.

"This must and will be," he said. "We've fallen on hard times."

I told him the only reason why we fell on hard times was because he bankrupted us trying to restore his kingdom to a glory it never deserved in the first place. We didn't fall. We were thrown. By him. I called the Grey Mountains home, but that wouldn't impress anyone else coming to visit. Father tried his darndest to gussy up the place, but there only so much one could do with rather lumpy hills, rather nice forests, and rather ordinary fields. There were several very pleasant streams though and a particularly fine tree in the middle of the green, but no one would or even should come miles to watch my favorite tree turn orange in the fall. I adored my home though, and every peak, crag, and cranny was precious.

"Fallen implies an unavoidable accident," I reminded him, "but this is nothing of the kind. You leapt into this against all advice, so don't you dare make me pay for your mistake!"

I wanted to say incompetence instead of mistake, but I thought if I did, he might hit me. He never had before, but I knew I pushed him to his limits at times. I didn't know why. Maybe because I never liked him, or maybe because he never liked me.

"You will do this," he said a half-step lower than a shriek. "You will serve some purpose at last!"

He stomped out then, making sure his heels and toes landed at the same time, and slammed the door. I waited until his parade of one faded away and fumbled to pull out a satchel from under my bed.

"No, Areen," came a soft voice at the door, "you can't run away this time."

My mother, tall and lovely, glided to my bed as though on wheels. When I was young, I peeked under her skirts and was disappointed to find normal feet. I still didn't know how she did it.

"This is an unexpected but most welcome stroke of fate, don't you think?" she asked as though the answer was obvious.

"No, I don't, mother," I said, knowing full well father didn't tell King Thorin and his sister-son, Prince Kili, the truth about me. "What will they say when they see me? They'll turn us away in disgrace, and what then? Why can't father take someone else and say it's me? Anyone else would be thrilled."

I felt down my legs, one of which was shorter than the other. We didn't talk about my other disability. Most of the time, they pretended it didn't exist. Nice for them. Nice and convenient. Not so nice nor at all convenient for me.

"That can be overcome, my dear," she said gently. "You have a good and kind heart, and King Thorin was quite firm about it being the princess of the ruling house. He may ask questions only you can answer."

I puffed my chest out and put my hands on my hips in imitation of street-walkers I had heard tell of some time ago. I thought at first the label applied to those tasked with keeping streets clean. Was I ever wrong!

"So Princess Areen," I said, trying to imitate King Thorin's deep voice, "what is the annual income of your kingdom?"

Mother huffed, but I paid no attention. I deserved that chance to blow off some steam, and I had enough to power a turbine. I briefly imagined my mouth around a tube that sent steam to the main furnace of the mountain keep. I was angry enough to keep my people warm all winter long.

"Why nothing, Your Most Royal Highness Majesty," I replied sweetly, "but if I walk the streets tonight with a few of my friends, we might double the treasury by dawn."

"Areen!" mother said. "You will keep a civil tongue in your head!"

I pressed my lips together and clamped my jaw shut to keep everything I really wanted to say from leaping out of my mouth and setting my bedroom on fire. Then the cries of my people rang in my head. I limped to the closet and pulled out a few dresses and my cane. I laid them on the bed and fumbled around to empty my drawers. Mother made surprised noises while I packed as best I could in silence. I took a few precious mementos off my shelf and wrapped them carefully in frilly drawers I despised and never wore.

"What are you doing?" mother asked.

"Packing obviously," I said, "because there will be nothing but misery here if I refuse, and I won't hear my people's groans and have them starve if I can help it."

I felt mother's smile behind my back.

"As I said, a good and kind heart."

I snorted. Nothing like a little flattery to sweeten a very sour deal, but all the same, I knew she was sincere. She always was.

"One that you and father are taking full advantage of."

I turned around and tried to face her. My mouth felt tight, and I knew I had no right to be insolent, but I didn't care. I'd been pushed too far, and I wasn't going alone.

"I'm taking her with me."

"Of course," mother said. "Of course she goes with you. You do so well here, but, of course, you'll need her to help you get around Erebor."

I bit my lip. My effort at bravado was overwhelmed by descriptions of Erebor's size and complexity. I didn't know how I could manage.

"I hear it's very large with many winding halls and corridors."

For the first time, I heard mother's voice thicken with tears.

"You'll manage brilliantly, as you always do, my brave, brave girl."

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