I would like to thank my readers yet again for their remarkable patience with my sporadic postings. I cannot express my gratitude to you all enough… You are all far better than I deserve.

THORIN THE WANDERER

CHAPTER 16

"I love you, my Morwen."

"Welcome home - my love."

What more was there to say?

He dropped his pack and caught her hands in his, drawing her close. They pressed their foreheads together and she reveled in his warmth – he could intoxicate her with his very presence. She ached to kiss him.

"I've missed you – I'm so happy that you're back…"

"You called this my home."

"It's your - so long as you wish."

He looked at her –"I hope I'm worthy of your faith in me…"

"Come in, unpack and then after Yzba we can eat. I have much to tell you." Morwen looked at her lover hoping that her news wouldn't trouble him.

In the days after Ve had told her the truth about her father, Morwen had struggled to review her past in light of this new knowledge. In reflection some things - such as her size and the way that some folk in the vicinity had starred at her made sense – but she used to simply think that she was just ugly or at best plain. When she was a child she and her father lived alone in the northern foothills of the White Mountains and after her mother's death many of her father's kin came to stay - Dwarves she now understood but she'd never made a distinction - she'd never thought I am this and you are that. She wondered if any child did.

"Ar Baruck" (my love) she whispered to him as he grabbed his sack. He turned to her and kissed her eagerly under the open sky. It was a kiss of pure joy.

Thorin came into the house, reveling in the comfort he felt there. Here he was simply Eikenskjaldi the smith, an itinerant tinker who's only worries consisted of the day's labors; a common smith content with food, a warm bed and a welcoming lover. There were no agendas here - no politics. The guilt and sense of responsibility that he felt weighing him down when he was in Ered Luin here seemed to fade away. He was moved when he noticed that Morwen had set aside her cedar chest for his clothes at the foot of the bed, she'd moved her items to a smaller wicker box. He put his things away (as well as the tokens he'd brought for courting) and quietly contemplated doing some work to improve the simple wooden structure of the loft – he could make it sturdier, larger and even cozier. There would be room he imagined for a bigger bed - or maybe a cradle? Suddenly he was surprised that the thought had ever even entered his mind.

He stripped off his travelling clothes and started down the ladder. Morwen had a clean towel ready for him and as he approached her he stated quietly "Yr yzbia otz." (Bathe with me.) She sighed and nodded as he undid the clasps that bound her kirtle. He was undressing her with a sense of comfortable familiarity and, noticing that the broaches were simple copper craft, he thought to replace them with something more worthy. Soon Morwen was only in her shift, and she pulled if over her head. She reached for another towel and he gave her the heavy bath coat that he had over his a rm. "You take it - I'm fine." He said.

They walked quickly and paused at the doors of the bathhouse. "You know, amongst my people the bathhouse is a holy place." Eikenskjaldi commented "a place of sacred trust…"

Morwen knew this; she'd already bathed with him and shared her bed with him. She wondered with a little anxiety what Eikenskjaldi was referring to.

"Go in first." He added with a half-smile "I'll follow."

After she went into the bathhouse he pressed his hand to the lintel stone over the door of the chamber "Witness" he whispered.

Morwen removed the robe and set her towel on a higher shelf. Although the room was full of steam she felt a curious chill so she slipped into the water. She looked up to see Eikenskjaldi sitting on the stone bench. His eyes were closed and his skin shone with humidity in the muted half-light of the chamber. She moved in the water so as catch his eye when he opened them, and looking up at him. It sounded as though he were humming very quietly or chanting under his breath. She waited then set her wet hand by his foot, soft and gentle so as not to startle him. He glanced down a moment later to see her looking up at him from the hot bath and he smiled at her concerned glance.

"Let me wash your hair." He purred "and you should wash mine."

Having her hair washed and soothed with oil in the Dwarven fashion was a fantastic experience. Some may have occasionally laughed at the Dwarves love of their elaborated braided and coifed hair and their various ornamentations, but to her it seemed so right. He unbraided the token he had given her and saw that the lock of his own hair that he had plaited into her braid was still there - if a little damaged. He dislodged it gently. Once he was done with her hair he slipped into the pool and she began to quietly loosen his braids. Morwen massaged his scalp and poured water over his head in the manner he'd shown her. They stood in the waters together looking into each other's eyes. The light was fading and thunder rumbled outside the bathhouse.

"Ezhui eh M'hal" Eikenskjaldi said looking about the bathhouse - his eyes full of remarkable light. Mahal's forge - a slight oath, Morwen vaguely remembered hearing it in her father's house. She found herself thinking about the past, reminding herself my father was a dwarf - not mortal – only my mother was mortal … Oh Schist - how will he take this news?

Morwen shivered slightly. Although Eikenskjaldi appearance was inscrutable lost in his own thoughts - he noticed her trembling and chuckled "Come on, let's finish before the rain starts…" They dried themselves and Morwen tossed on her soft boots and wrapped herself in one of the larger towels. Leaving the robe for her lover she raced out into the cold stormy air – shrieking from the sudden chill.

"Wait silly!" Thorin gesticulated at her with the robe from the entrance to the chamber.

"You take the coat my love." She answered shuddering as she hurried to the hall – "I need to learn to be strong now that you are in my life!"

Thorin pulled on the robe and hurried after her, shouting. Soon he caught up with her inside the hall. She'd collected her clothes from the floor and had partially covering herself with her kirtle as she stirred the coals in the fire to warm the cool hall. He hurried to the loft, slipped on a long loose tunic, and collected Morwen's dressing gown, he hid two carved bone combs and a few of his courting gifts in the folds.

Soon the fire was roused and Morwen stopped shivering. She looked up at Eikenskjaldi as he approached, and shifted to better see him as he gestured with his bundle.

"I'll comb your hair, then you can comb mine. You settle by the fire." Thorin was able to palm the combs and baubles in the bundle while offering her the loose gown. She took the robe and slipped it on, while he sat behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he showed her the combs. They appeared to be polished flat tiles carefully carved with a clean stylish knotwork design. They could be worn like broad pendants, but they opened up to reveal a set of fine carefully carved teeth. Her eyes lit up as she took one and opened it up, delighting in the elegant simplicity.

"You've seen these sorts of combs before?"

"Yes - I remember similar ones from my childhood. Eikenskjaldi - I need to talk to you…" Morgan twisted to look at him and started to speak but he pressed his fingers to her lips.

"Soon, I promise." He smiled, guided her back into position and gently stroked her hair. "Listen to me my silly girl" he spoke quietly and soothingly, "I want to tell you about my travels after we parted." He hummed slightly as he spoke and she lost herself in his words. "I worked my way toward Bree after I left – it's always raining! It's as wet as the bottom of a lake. Tell me my lady – you've been there before – does the sun ever shine there?"

While he continued to comb her hair, Morwen chuckled and tilted her head slightly. "Yes - well it must have been sunny when you were there - perhaps you'll need to come there with me again – and draw out the sun to smile on you." He hummed for a few minutes, and then went on. "From there, I went to Chetwood, then on towards Ered Luin. I met with friends and kin there, and took work - but always I was thinking of you. So I hurried back to you. Outside of Thandlon, I met a traveler and I heard something curious…"

"Almost finished…Now tell me, what do you know about the Fire beard House?"

Morwen turned and caught Eikenskjaldi's hands before he could pivot away. His hair was still damp but her locks were smooth and carefully combed. He looked at her as she took his hands in hers and lifted them both to her lips. "You must have met Ve. He has brown skin, silver white hair and travels with a wolf dog and a travois. He's - my foster father." She sighed. "I thought he'd already left the area but he must have lingered in the village. He stopped here four days ago, and he didn't know that Gerion was dead. He saw the ornament that you'd given me and - and…"

"Your foster father…" Thorin nodded at her and kissed her hands. "Now, comb my hair and tell me what you can."

Morwen quietly stroked her lover's thick dark mahogany colored hair, noting that the threads of silver were almost invisible when the hair was wet. She slowly slipped the comb into the thick locks and found them soft and fluid - sliding like heavy silk cords under her fingers. "Ve - son of Ullr, son of Redthu of the sharp eye of the House of the Fire beards came to visit four days past – he hadn't come this way in a long time and he didn't realize Gerion had died – he was troubled that I was all alone. He complained that is was disrespectful that the Fire beards would never have stood for it. He saw your token and asked about you – your name where we met … He guessed that you serve in the personal guard of Thrane's son Thorin Oakenshield, and he wanted to talk to you about me. My love, I did not meant to mislead anyone - I was very young when my father sent me away."

"Your father was singularly wise to hold so many Dwarves in his close esteem. Ve wants no doubt to know that his foster kin is well cared for… Brodda was a lucky man." Thorin said quietly finding himself relaxing under her touch.

"Ah my love there is more to say. Ve had a brother, a craftsman called Brodhi. He took a mortal maiden to be his bride, and in her love for him, she - Glynnis - bore him a child. Ve told me that a fever took her a few months later, but that she was strong and might well have lived, but nevertheless his brother was heart shattered. Brodhi and the child lived alone in the White Mountains, but he kept his kin around him after his wife had perished. The wee half Dwarrow thrived - through some small mercy, but Brodhi despaired in his loneliness and arranged to send his half breed daughter away. Glynnis' people wanted nothing to do with the changeling but Ve did his best – he found some farming folk who were willing for a time to care for her - he kept his eye on her - telling the wee one that her father was Brodda, an Easterling. That child never questioned Ve." Morwen swallowed deep and spoke through a tightly constricted throat. "I never called my father anything but Ah'l (papa) - so why should I question my uncle?" Morwen faltered.

Thorin sat stock still. Suddenly all the pieces seemed to be falling into place. The cryptic words of the handsome traveler from the white mountains - his initial comfort with Morwen, her sympathy and his unexpected emotions - how he'd struggled to keep his emotions in check and how he'd failed well he wouldn't fail again.

"The Fire beards of the White Mountains protect their own…" Thorin turned to her, and saw her looking anxious and tense. He touched her cheek and gradually lifted her face upwards and caught her sad frightened eyes in his own gaze. "Ve claimed you as his kin – you are no half breed, Morwen - you are Khazad. You're an unexpected treasure not a changeling! Hear me, and know that I love you. I told Ve that no disrespect will be tolerated to the Fire beards, and Eikenskjaldi keeps his word."

"My love." she could barely be heard in the heavy silence. "My love."

VVVVVVVV

Thorin was glad that he hadn't waited much longer to leave Ered Luin. Aside from the rainstorm that accompanied his arrival it was just two days until the late autumn weather suddenly changed. A blast of cold air and a storm with heavy snow arrived on the eve of Durin's Day. There was little wind but the air was cold and full of fat snowflakes. Morwen glanced out of the window and in spite of the chill she had to admit it was beautiful outside. Eikenskjaldi and she had celebrated the cold by making long lazy love throughout the night and often into the late mornings in the cosy snowbound hall.