Erebor was lost, and Dale was no more than ashes and ruins. Everything had burned around them, leaving them all scorched and wounded and homeless. The sky was black with smoke, hiding the sun and turning the world into a black chaos full of corpses, full of weeping women and screaming children. The air was full with the stench of charred wood and death. The small river running through the valley, between Erebor and Dale, was choked with a thick layer of gray ash, turning the water into poison. Men and Dwarves alike were standing outside, listening to Smaug's loud roars of ecstasy as he wallowed in the mountain's gold like a pig in the mud.

« And now ? » Lady Dis asked slowly, her voice hoarse from breathing in so much smoke. « What are we going to do now ? »

Tears were running down her face, into her soft black beard.

Thorin put an arm around her shoulders, and a kiss on the top of her head. As devastated as he was, he still had strength enough to comfort his beloved little sister, as he had done so many times during their childhood. She looked up at him, then she burst into sobs against Thorin's large chest.

« Home, Thorin... This was our home... This was everything... What do we have left, now ? » she said miserably, clutching at the front of Thorin's tunic with both her hands.

Thorin looked at the high gates of Erebor, now closed to them – probably forever. A wave of despair washed over him as he thought of all the things they had just lost : home, shelter, safety... And the treasure, of course... The legendary treasure of Thror, the mighty King Under the Mountain... How could it be possible ? How could it happen so suddenly ? Without even a warning ? Yesterday everything was normal, everything was fine, and today... he glanced at the desolation all around him, at the brink of utter despair. Not far from him, a little girl was crying, her face smeared with soot a man was still clutching his sword uselessly and yelling curses at the dragon a pair of Dwarf women were hugging each other and over there, not far from a pile of blackened wood, Dwalin and Balin were talking softly to each other. They were both dirty and disheveled, but alive. Thank Mahal for this small mercy.

« What do we do, now ? » Dis asked her brother. Her tears had stopped, now, and she seemed to have recovered at least some of her usual determination.

Thorin sighed heavily.

« We live, I suppose. » he said wearily, and then suddenly a flare of boiling anger woke in him. « We live, so that one day we can take back Erebor. We live, so that one day we can avenge our dead with Smaug's blood. »

And maybe we will even be able to kill that arrogant little Elf-king, at the same time, he thought bitterly. The world would undoubtedly be a better place without Thranduil and his thrice-damned battle elk.

« Did you see Father somewhere ? » Dis asked worriedly, as she pulled away from Thorin to gaze at the people around them. « And Grand-Father ? Did you see him ? »

Thorin nodded slowly.

« Yes, I... » He cleared his throat, unsure about what he would say next. « I found him in the vaults and I helped him to get out, but we got separated when the dragon smashed the wall of the Eastern Watchtower. »

In truth, the King Under the Mountain would have died in a vain attempt to recover the Arkenstone, if Thorin had not dragged him away by force. But he didn't think his sister needed to know this piece of information right now. There would be more important matters to discuss before the end of the day, and anyways Thror's gold sickness would probably not be an issue anymore, now that the treasure was permanently out of their reach.

Dis sensed something was wrong with her brother, though, and she frowned suspiciously at him.

« He is tough, and a skilled warrior, and I am sure he is still alive. » Thorin said to reassure her. « Let's go find him, and find Father. »

She nodded bravely. She wiped away the last remnants of tears with her torn sleeve, and took a deep breath.

« Let's find Father. » she agreed.

Among the haggard and bedraggled survivors, there was a young dwarf woman called Laurelin. She was the only child of a married couple of Dwarves who had devoted their lives to serving the royal family, in Erebor. Laurelin's parents had been humble and modest, hard-working and loyal folk, and the daughter had been raised, from her earliest childhood, to take up their trade once she would be old enough. But then the dragon had come, smashing their lives to pieces, and killing Laurelin's family in his fires. She could still hear their cries of agony, and see their faces twisting in pain every time she closed her eyes. The only member of her family who had survived was her old grand-mother, and both women clung to each other as if their lives depended on it. Laurelin was shy and reserved, and most of the time she enjoyed the peace and quiet of a solitary life. Her face was round, with soft cheeks and full lips, and big brown eyes framed with dark lashes but what made her really stand apart from the other women was the lack of beard. Her face was smooth as a baby's. She was also less heavy than most Dwarf-women, with a slender silhouette, which made her look more like an undersized Human girl than a real Dwarf.

They had been driven off from Erebor three days ago. Laurelin and her grand-mother followed the other Dwarves as they all wandered aimlessly through the wilderness. The young woman was in pain her feet, not used to walk such long distances, were covered in bleeding blisters, and every muscle of her legs was aching. She had taken her last bite of food two days ago, and by now her stomach was growling loudly, her strengths dwindling with every passing hour. Since she hadn't taken any flask with her when she had fled Erebor – the dragon hadn't exactly waited for them to finish packing before he attacked – she could drink only hen they encountered some river on their way, and the water was not always the best quality. And Laurelin also had to support her grand-mother, pulling an arm around her waist to help her keep up with the other Dwarves' pace, and whispering words of encouragement into her ears. Her old age and her worn body made everything even worse, for her. Laurelin's heart filled with pity and dread every time she looked at her grand-mother, yet she did her best to hide her fears. Worrying about things she couldn't change would not help them.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and kept walking before the others were too far ahead.

When night came – yet another wet and cold night, sleeping on the bare ground, with no blanket to warm their shaking bodies – she couldn't sleep in spite of her exhaustion. Every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing her parents again. She kept hearing their last words. Get out of here, they had told her, without caring for their own safety. Get out and don't look back, little one. Run. Save your life. And she had run, her eyes filled with tears because of the smoke, her lungs burning as if she had breathed in fire. A few moments later, the ceiling had collapsed and her parents had been engulfed in a sea of roaring flames. She had wanted to turn back, try to save them, try to do something, but they had told her to run. Laurelin felt tears well up in her eyes as she remembered those dreadful memories. The pain was unbearable, as if someone had ripped her chest open to stab her straight in the heart. She had loved her parents so much. They had been a modest family, but neither the lack of money nor the low social status had ever been a problem to Laurelin they loved and supported each other during the hard times, and laughed together when life was more generous. They had been a happy, tightly knit family. Laurelin's mother used to kiss her on the forehead, and her father's eyes were shining with pride every time he looked at his beautiful daughter.

And now there's nothing left of them - nothing but a pile of ash between the empty walls of Eerebor, and bitter-sweet memories that bring more pain than happiness.

She cried for a while, till her tears ran dry.

Next morning, they got up for another long day of hardship and privations. Laurelin did her best to smile at her grand-mother, and to be strong. The old woman had worked hard all her life, and lost everything at the evening of her existence. Laurelin was afraid for her, afraid to lose the last member of her family still alive.

The young woman knew she would eventually have to find work, to support them both. She was very young, and she had not yet completed her apprenticeship she still had a lot to learn about being a good servant, but she was brave and willing and eager to learn. Her parents had raised her in the respect of the royal family of Erebor, so it was very naturally that she thought about offering her services to young Prince Thorin, whom she admired greatly for having taken up the leadership after the fall of Erebor. While King Thror and his son Thrain had left the wandering Dwarves to negotiate some help from the Iron Hills, Thorin had stayed close to his people, leading them through this ordeal with courage and honor.

So when they decided to settle for the night in a small grove, she took her courage in both hands and decided to talk to the young prince. She sensed this was her true place, at the side of the last descendant of Durin's line. He had lost almost everything, as well, and Laurelin knew he would not be able to pay her full wages, but it didn't matter. She just wanted to serve him, like her parents - and their parents before them - had served Thorin's forebears it was her way to honour those who had brought her into this world, and to perpetrate the family traditions.

She waited for the hustle and bustle of the camp to calm down, then she walked over to Thorin's sleeping place as the night was slowly falling. But as she stood in front of the prince's tent, she suddenly hesitated. Who was she, to bother the Prince Thorin of Erebor ? A mere serving girl had no business asking favors from people so far above her in the social structure. And what if she made a fool of herself in front of Thorin ? That would be such an humiliation !

Maybe I should leave, and forget about it, and consider a more realistic option to earn money.

Then she took a deep breath.

Do it, or you'll regret it later. Don't be a coward.

As there was no door, she couldn't knock. So she just announced herself by clearing her throat loudly, then she opened the piece of crudely cut leather that hung in front of the entrance.

« Prince Thorin ? » she asked tentatively.

It was very dark inside, and at first she saw no one. Then, when her eyes had adjusted, she spotted two silhouettes inside. She recognized Thorin, and his sister. It made her nervous. She had expected to speak with him alone, but having to face two royal siblings would be even worse. Yet she had gone too far, now, to back down.

« Enter. » the Princess said gently. She was a typical Dwarf-woman short and stout, and as strong as a man. Along the line of her jaw she wore a soft black beard, the same black as her thick wavy hair. Her dress was worn and dirty, and all the jewels she used to wear in Erebor were gone, probably sold off to buy some food in one of the villages they had crossed.

Laurelin obeyed, and bowed respectfully in front of them, trying to look as gracious as possible in spite of her nervousness. Thorin was a very impressive man tall and strong, with broad shoulders and a deep voice. He said nothing when he saw her enter the tent, but he contemplated her from head to toe with his piercing blue eyes. She felt her cheeks grow very hot, but she forced herself to continue :

« Prince Thorin, would you be as kind as to give me a few moments of your time ? » she asked, biting her lower lips nervously.

Dis shot her brother a reproving look, then she answered in his place, once more.

« Please, young lady, speak and we will listen. »

« Prince Thorin, Princess Dis... » she started, looking frail and shy and sweet. Her voice was shaking a bit, but it was also filled with a certain tenderness. « My name is Laurelin. Back in Erebor, my family and me we used to serve the Line of Durin, and now I would love to keep serving you as best as I can. I am aware of my young age and my lack of experience, but I pledge my life to you and I will do whatever is in my power to bring you a bit of comfort, day after day. I will do whatever you ask of me. And I am not asking for privileges or gold, of course, » she added quickly. « I just want to do what my parents taught me to do. »

When she was finished, she lowered her head, unable to look Thorin in the eyes. She had to press her hands against her chest to keep them from trembling.

Thorin, probably surprised by this unexpected demand, crossed his arms over his broad chest. He was watching her intently, as if trying to size her up or to read her thoughts. It made her feel even more nervous. She was sure here legs would not be able to support her any longer. She took a deep breath, and talked about how her parents loved to work for the royal family, before Smaug's attack, and how it would make her happy if she were given a chance to prove herself. Then she talked, in a soft and sad voice, about her old grand-mother who was now too old to find work, and who relied solely on her grand-daughter to survive.

Once more, Thorin remained silent. Laurelin felt a tight knot in her stomach. And what if he refuses ? What will I do, if he refuses ? Where will I find work, if he doesn't want me ?

« Will... will you accept my offer, Prince Thorin ? » she insisted shyly, when the silence lingered. She had never felt so ill at ease before. She wanted to run away and hide herself in a dark corner, but she suddenly realized she couldn't move. She was paralyzed, like a frightened mouse in front of the snake that's going to eat her.

Thorin cleared his throat.

« Young lady, I appreciate your devotion to my family, I really do, but unfortunately I will have to refuse your offer. » he said slowly, looking sincerely sorry.

Laurelin's heart missed a beat as she realized Thorin just said the words she had feared to hear. He had refused her. She felt tears prickle her eyes, but she refused to let them run free. She didn't want to humiliate herself even further. But right then, when she was about to leave in shame, the young Prince's gaze softened up.

« We have just suffered a terrible blow, » he said in a deep, gentle voice. « We are wandering the wilderness, ans we don't know what tomorrow will be made of. We... » He looked around, at Lady Dis. « My dear sister and me, we have lost everything, or close to. We are still alive, for now, but if we don't find a way to get back on our feet we may not last very long. I... don't even know how I am going to survive, when the snows of winter will start falling. If your work for me you will be under my responsibility, and your grand-mother as well since she depends on you – and I can't afford it. Not right now. »

« But I won't ask anything of you ! » she exclaimed, without knowing where she got the courage to stand up to him like that. « I just want to help you, Prince Thorin. Help you, and offer you my humble services during these hard times. »

« The answer is still no, young lady. » Thorin replied. He looked genuinely sorry, but he was unyielding. « Maybe some day, if our luck changes, I will be glad to hire your services. But right now I can't. »

Laurelin felt her heart sink in front of such a staunch refusal. She kpet her eyes on the ground, trying to hold back her tears.

« Laurelin ? » It was Lady Dis who had spoken, with a smile that made her look very pretty. «Would you mind waiting outside, while I speak with my brother ? »

« Of course, my lady. » Laurelin replied, showing her the same respect as she did for Thorin. She bowed, and left the tent on her weak, trembling legs. The young daughter of Thrain was well known for having a strong and stubborn temper. Maybe she will make Thorin change his mind ? Maybe there's still hope ?

After a moment that seemed to last forever, to Laurelin, Lady Dis came out of the tent.

« My brother did not lie to you. We don't have much, and therefore we won't be able to give you much, but we accept your offer with gratitude. Your presence and your services will be very welcome. » Thorin came out of the tent as well, and was about to say something, but Lady Dis just frowned at him and gave him a threatening look. « My brother and me are deprived of almost everything one needs to survive, but your situation is even worse than ours, and it is our duty to hold out our hand to those who have most need of our help and protection. »

Her smiled was very welcoming, as well as the warmth in her voice.

Laurelin felt her heart melt with gratitude, and this time the tears in her eyes were tears of happiness.

« Thank you, my Lady. » she said from the bottom of her heart. She bowed deeply in front of her, before thanking her again and again. « I promise you, my Lady, that neither you nor your brother will regret this decision... I will always do my best to be both useful and pleasant, and I swear in Mahal's name that I will never disappoint you ! »

Then she left the tent to tell her grand-mother the good news. She had never felt so relieved.

Her life was worth living again.

The red-hot iron hissed as Thorin plunged it into the bucket of cold water, releasing a cloud of silvery-white steam. When it came out of the water again, dripping wet, the horse-shoe had turned dark again. Thorin inspected it closely, and found no flaws. He threw it on the ground, next to the three others. He was done now, at last. The farrier could come and gather them whenever he wanted. Thorin wiped his sweaty brow with his hand, and slipped back into the stained shirt that hung from a nail in the wall. One of the sleeves was torn, but that was the least of his worries. He drank cold water from his goatskin, then he went to his next task. Nails. He hated doing nails. Tedious, boring work. And not very well paid, on top of everything else. But if he refused to do them, no one else would give him work anymore. Thorin hated working for the humans, and he hated that smelly, dark forge he was a prince, and it was humiliating for him to be reduced to such a base work - but he had no choice. If he wanted to earn some money to pay for food and shelter, he had not other choice but to accept grovelling at the Men's feet as if he were no more than some sort of lowborn scullion. He knew they were all laughing behind his back, mocking the homeless prince, the beggar prince who had been unable to defend his own kingdom against the enemy. Whenever this happened Thorin forced himself to act as if he didn't hear them. Let them talk. Let them laugh. We are the proud Dwarves of Erebor, and one day we will reclaim our heritage, and then we will be laughing while they crawl in font of us.

Every time Thorin's hammer hit the anvil, sending tiny sparks flying in every direction, he imagined it was Smaug's head he was smashing. Or maybe Thranduil's. For the despair he had felt during the first days had been replaced by anger, and by hatred. Those feelings burned in him day and night, making him feel as if his very blood was made of white-hot steel. His desire for revenge was the one thing that kept him going, day after day, in spite of the tragedy that had befallen him and his people.

One day, Durin's folk will have their vengeance, even if it means the death of me, he vowed silently.

Shortly after the bells rang the mid-day, Laurelin came at the forge with a basket for Thorin, as she did almost every day. Within the Prince of Erebor found a small loaf of bread, a morsel of hard cheese and a tiny slice of cheap salted pork. He thanked her, and ate with the strong appetite of a man who's been working hard all morning. Then, when there was nothing left but a few crumbs, he grabbed his hammer again and resumed his work. Laurelin didn't linger, and returned home with the empty basket to finish her work there. Even if Thorin never said it aloud – he was usually sullen and silent, at the forge – he was very grateful for all the small attentions the young maid had for him.

When night came, Thorin was exhausted, and famished. He stretched his sore muscles, then he walked home they were currently living in a small countryside village, with shaggy little houses and farmyards. The streets were narrow and twisted, made of beaten earth as it had rained a lot during the last days, the ground had turned into an ankle-deep swamp, full of murky puddles. Thorin was glad to wear high boots, so at least his feet remained dry. They were worn after several weeks of wandering, but still good enough to protect him, so far.

When he reached the old shack that was his home, he was surprised to see the light of a candle inside, through the window. His sister Dis had left his side to live with her long-time friend Boraìn, a fierce but kind-hearted Dwarf that counted among Thorin's most loyal warriors Father and Grand-Father were in the Iron Hills, trying to negotiate with the Dwarves who dwelt there and Laurelin, who had decided to stay at Thorin's service when Dis left, was supposed to be in the forest with some other Dwarf women, gathering the death-of-moon flowers they would sell later for a good price. Since they only flowered under the light of the moon – most preferably during the days of full moon – they had to be picked up at night. Maybe the ladies had filled their baskets quicker than expected, and Laurelin was home already ?

Curious, he opened the door, and heaved a sigh of relief as he realized it was Laurelin indeed. She smiled curteously at him as she saw him, as usual. Thorin smiled back. Going into the forest at night was a dangerous business, and Thorin had disliked the idea of her being out there with only a couple of other women to protect her. Laurelin was young, barely old enough to be considered a grown woman Thorin felt protective towards her, because she had no other family than this old grand-mother of hers, and she was not as tough and hardened as Dis, or some of the other Dwarf-women. She was a shy and sweet little doe, lost in a world of hungry wolves. She could definitely do with somebody watching over her, and Thorin had taken up that role since there was no one else to do it.

« Was the harvest of death-of-moon flowers good tonight ? » he asked, as he removed his muddy boots in the entrance.

« Excellent. » Laurelin replied happily. « We found a spot, near the broken well, where the ground was covered with them. It took us barely a few minutes to fill our baskets. We will sell them on the market tomorrow. If we are lucky, we will be able to sell them all and satisfy many clients. »

« I'm glad to know you will spend the night at home, safely tucked under your blankets, and not outside in the forest. The rumours say there's bears in that forest. And other beasts, too. Foul beasts. »

« I am safe, Prince Thorin, » she said. « And dinner is ready. » She paused, then she added : « Bears, Prince Thorin ? Are there really bears in the forest ? » She was suddenly very pale. « The other women and me, we had planned to go back in the forest tomorrow to pick up more flowers... We... What will we do, if we encounter any bears ? Do you think they will attack us ? »

Thorin realized he had frightened her, now. He cursed himself.

« I'll send Dwalin with you, if you want. He's more terrifying than any bear, and it should be enough to keep the beasts out of your way. »

He chuckled softly as he imagined what would happen to any bear that would be foolish enough to attack the fierce, bald warrior. Laurelin gratefully thanked him for his offer. She immediately accepted the presence of the warrior, and his protection.

« Dinner is ready. » Laurelin repeated softly. « You should eat, before it's cold. You need it. »

« Oh yes, dinner. I'm starving. »

She led the way to the kitchen and Thorin followed, barefoot on the rough planking that covered the floor.

When Laurelin had offered her services to Thorin, after the fall of Erebor, he had first refused her. He had lost everything. His life had become a day-after-day struggle, and how could he possibly afford a servant if he didn't even have enough money to take care of his own self ? But Dis had made him change his mind she had welcomed Laurelin under their roof – as miserable as this roof was – and now Thorin realized his youngest sister had been right about everything, as usual. Having Laurelin at his side was a blessing. She was friendly, loyal and hard-working, in spite of her young age. Sometimes she was a bit awkward or clumsy, but this was probably due to her lack of experience. Thorin refused to blame her for it, or to shame her for her mistakes as some other Dwarf-lords did with their servants. She would learn with time, and in the meanwhile she did her best with what little they had.

« What do we have for dinner, tonight ? » he asked, as he heard his stomach growl loudly.

« Rabbit stew with winter carrots and turnips. » Laurelin answered. She plunged the wooden laddle into the heavy cooking-pot. « And we have bread, too. As you like it. Black barely bread, with hard-baked crust. »

Thorin smiled. He had mentioned only once, long ago, that he liked this sort of bread, but she had remembered it. She always remembered everything. It was something he liked about her.

She brought him his bowl, filled to the brim with meat and cooked vegetables.

« Thank you. » he said earnestly.

« I... I wish you had something better for you, but the gold runs low in our pockets, these last days, and I couldn't... I tried to find something more refined, but the price was exorbitant. » she said, lowering her head as if she were ashamed.

« No, » he interrupted her gently. « This is better than what most of my folk will eat tonight. At least it's hot, and I will enjoy every mouthful of it. »

She blushed a little, then she walked back to stir what was left in the cooking-pot. She was a good cook, and able to prepare rich, tasty meals even with the basic, cheap food they had to put up with. Thorin watched her standing near the cooking fire for a few moments, then he started eating heartily. The meat was hot indeed, and he cursed as he burned his tongue. This is for being so impatient, he chided himself. He took a gulp of cold beer, and since there was no other distraction, je watched Laurelin again while he waited for his meal to cool down. She had told him, on the first day, that she had already been in the service of the royal family of Erebor, before Smaug's attack – yet Thorin had never seen her before. She was pretty enough, with a round face, big brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and long brown hair that fell down her back in lovely curls, when it was not braided. Her cheeks were as smooth as a little girl's. No beard, just a very light peach fuzz, almost invisible, which was rather unusual and made her stand out among the other women. Thorin would have remembered her, if he had met her before, but all in all it was small wonder they had never seen each other before Erebor was an unending maze of cathedral-sized halls and chambers, and two people could roams its dark galleries for weeks and weeks without ever coming face-to-face.

« Do you need anything else, Prince Thorin ? » she asked when she was done in the kitchen.

« A prince without a kingdom is not a prince anymore, » Thorin reminded her bitterly. He had lost any claim to this title the day Smaug had taken everything from him. He was barely more than a beggar, now.

« To me you will always be a Prince, » she said with a shy smile, on a very respectful tone. « Your kingdom may be lost to Smaug, but your people are still alive. They are Durin's folk. They are proud and fierce and loyal to the marrow of their bones. As long as they will live, they will always see you as a Prince in their hearts. Nothing can change that. You may not believe in yourself anymore, but they do. » She paused for a short moment, then she continued in a small voice : « I... believe in you. »

Her eyes were on her feet, her throat tight.

Flattered by her words and her faith in him, he couldn't help but smile gratefully. He suddenly felt as if he had eaten something very warm that now spread through his chest, warming him from the inside.

The rabbit stew was good – simple, but good – and he silently thanked Mahal for having someone at his side, someone who knew how to make his life bearable during this exile, even if she was only a mere servant.

Laurelin didn't linger in the kitchen, and went to sit in front of the fireplace, on a thick sheepskin that she spread on the ground. In her hands there was a needle, and next to her a pile of worn clothes belonging to Thorin darning and mending clothes was not one of her best skills, but she liked doing it nonetheless. And she was still learning. With time, she would be just as good as any other woman. It was pleasant work, that required patience and meticulousness, and it was very relaxing after a long day of running about the house to do the chores. Every now and then, she took a bite of bred from the small loaf she had baked for herself, using the leftovers of flour from Thorin's bread. It was a poor meal for her hungry stomach, but it was all she could afford, so she made do with it. She forgot about everything else as she worked with the needle, and got lost in this quiet moment of peace, singing softly to herself. Thorin smiled as he heard her sweet voice, and once more he enjoyed having someone at his side. The house would have been cold and empty, without Laurelin's quiet and comforting presence.

« Laurelin ? » he asked gently, after a while. He didn't like interrupting her, but he had felt a twinge of guilt when he had compared his own plate with her poor little loaf of bread. « There's plenty of rabbit stew left in the pot. Enough for you as well. »

« I am fine. » she said softly. « My belly is full already, and I have no need for meat. » She had gotten used to small portions and plain food. Whenever they could afford something better, it was for her grand-mother, who needed it so much more than herself.

« You're working hard all day long. You could do with something more consistent than just some bread. »

« I am fine. » she repeated. « I prepared this meal for you, Prince Thorin, not for myself. I want you to enjoy it. That's all I need. »

Thorin almost insisted, but he realized it would have been useless. The young maid could be stubborn, in her own way.

When he was done with the meal, he sighed deeply. He was exhausted, and he wanted nothing but a few hours of sleep, but he knew he couldn't go to bed covered in soot and stinking of cold sweat. He was pleased to see that Laurelin had already prepared his bath of course, it had nothing to do with the grandiose baths of Erebor, with pools of black marble and hot water pouring out of the walls, directly from the underground springs. It was just a mere tub made of planks in which he could sit down, and to wash himself he had nothing but a block of cheap soap, but at least the water was at the perfect temperature. Laurelin had been quick to learn what he liked, and obviously she took great pride in keeping him as satisfied as possible all the time. It was wonderful to get rid of his dirty clothes, and even more wonderful to soak into the hot water. He scrubbed himself hard, and when he came out of the water again he was clean as a baby. He felt a different man. He felt alive again, and relaxed, aft such a hard day of work.

After drying himself, he slipped into the night clothes Laurelin had laid out for him. A long ample cotton shirt, on which the young serving girl had stitched the raven of Erebor. Thorin appreciated small attentions like that.

Once he was dressed, he went back to the main room of the house. Laurelin was not there anymore, so Thorin took her place in front of the hearth – not because he enjoyed the warmth of the fire, but because the crackling flames reminded him what had happened to his people when Smaug's fire had filled the air. All the memories of this dreadful day came back, stirring his anger and his hatred for those who had brought this fate upon Durin's folk. Every night, he took a few moments to hone his desire for vengeance, like a knight hones his sword.

Never forgive, never forget – this was his motto.

He startled when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

« Your sister came by this afternoon. » Laurelin said hesitantly, not sure whether she was bothering him or not. « She said she needs to talk to you as soon as possible. She... I should have told you earlier, but I forgot. I'm sorry, Prince Thorin. »

She lowered her head and started fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

« There's nothing to be sorry about. » Thorin reassured her in a gentle voice, his anger suddenly forgotten. « My stubborn sister can wait a day or two, now that she has Boraìn to keep her busy. »

Thorin saw that Laurelin was dressed to go outside. She was wearing a heavy woolen cloak over her old dress, and she had slipped her feet into her old leather shoes.

« Good night, Prince Thorin. » she said with an awkward bow, then she pulled the hood over her head.

« Wait ! » Thorin said, getting on his feet. « It's cold outside. Why don't you come here with your grand-mother and enjoy the warmth of my hearth, for the night ? » He knew both women lived in a small shack that threatened to fall into ruins. There was no fireplace there. It was cold, and damp, and full of icy cold drafts. It was no place for a young woman and her elderly grand-mother to sleep in.

« I can't, Prince Thorin. » Laurelin exclaimed, shocked. « This would be so unbecoming, for us to invade your privacy like that. »

Thorin stretched out his hand towards the fire.

« There's room enough for the both of you here, where it is warm and dry. » he said gently. « If you don't do it for yourself, then do it for your grand-mother's sake. She is a respectable woman, is she not ? Don't you think she deserves such a small kindness ? »

She hesitated, still looking very ill at ease.

« This is... very generous of you, Prince Thorin. » she said at last, with an uncertain smile. She didn't look up to meet Thorin's eyes. « We will be glad to accept your offer, then. »

Thorin watched her walk out of the door to fetch her grand-mother, then he decided it was high time for him to go to bed, too. He would have to get up early, next morning. He didn't look forward to another day at the smithy, yet he was glad he had found this work some of the Dwarves were now reduced to begging in the towns of men, while others survived in the woods like wild animals, relying only on the game they hunted to survive.

He slipped under the clean blankets, and fell asleep almost instantly.

A few hours later, though, he woke up when someone knocked frantically at his door. He jumped out of his bed, and almost tripped over Laurelin – or maybe her grand-mother – on his way to the door. When he opened, he saw Dis standing outside, disheveled and distressed.

« Dwalin ! » she said, breathless. Obviously, she had run from her home to Thorin's. Her cheeks were red, and tiny clouds of steam escaped her mouth with each breath. « They attacked Dwalin, and two other Dwarves. A dozen men with sticks and maces. Two streets away from here. »

« Dwalin ? » Thorin asked, feeling suddenly very cold inside.

« Alive. » Dis said. « And the other two as well, although one of them has a broken arm. But more and more men are rising from their beds, now, and when they see the unconscious men, and Dwalin swearing like an angry bull all over the streets... They will blame it all on us, as usual. Thorin, we have to get out of here before they decide to drive us out of town with their spears. Quick ! »

« We'll be ready in a few moments ! »

He returned inside, and saw that both Laurelin and the old woman were up, now. They had heard everything. They were already gathering their stuff, in all haste.

« Get whatever you need in your house, and come back here. » Thorin told them. « Quick ! You heard my sister. We have to be out of her as soon as possible ! »

Laurelin nodded. Her grand-mother left the house to gather what little possessions the two women owned, while Laurelin ran to the kitchens to pack everything she might need to accomplish her work during this new exile.

An hour later, all the Dwarves had left the village, and were now roaming the wilderness once more. The light of the full moon was guiding their steps some of them had ponies, others had rams or donkeys or even big dogs to pull their carts. The road was not good, full of potholes and puddles, and the were slow, but when the sun rose in the sky the small village was far behind them.

What followed was days and days of wandering, through valleys and hillsides, through forests and rocky flat lands. They found no other sign of civilization – no villages, no roads, nothing. Not even a shelter during the rainy, cold nights. They were wet and miserable, and exhausted beyond any measure, but somehow Laurelin was a real comfort to Thorin. She may be just a maid, but she did her duties with a smile on her lips, in spite of the hardship the mere fact that she had decided to stay at Thorin's side in spite of their present condition – in spite of the fact that he could no longer pay her for her services – meant she felt true loyalty towards him. He was both flattered and annoyed by this devotion, because he didn't feel like he deserved it.

After a few days, they ran out of food, and had to hunt to fill their stomachs. Thorin was not such a good hunter, but others were good enough with bows, and brought back boars and deers and wild hares for everybody.

A dozen days after they had left the village, Laurelin woke up ill one morning. Small wonder, Thorin thought. She was not the only one. Almost everywhere, Dwarves were coughing and breathing heavily, weakening with every passing day, slowing down their procession. Thorin was worried for his people, worried that some might not make it to the next village. The healers were doing their best, but soon they ran out of herbs and could do no more than encourage the sick Dwarves to stay warm – but how is one supposed to 'stay warm' when everything was wet ?

When they stopped for the night, Thorin went to see Laurelin. She was sitting on a wolf pelt, coughing and shivering, with her grand-mother at her side. She was pale as a ghost.

« You will be up and about soon. » Thorin said gently, as he knelt at her side. He sincerely hoped his words were not a lie.

« I am fine. » she replied, even if she looked anything but fine.

« You're not a good liar. » Thorin joked, and she smiled weakly at him. A slight blush colored her cheeks.

« The healer Oin said she must rest, to recover her strengths. » said the grand-mother, a worried look on her face. Her hair was graying, and the lines on her face were deep, but her eyes were still sharp and vivid.

« There's nothing I can do about that. » Thorin replied earnestly. « We have to move on, if we don't want to die here, lost in such a forlorn corner of wilderness. »

« I know. » the old woman replied sadly.

Thorin's gaze went back to Laurelin, then to Balin, who was coming in his direction. Hardship had turned his hair white, and his eyes sad. He looked pretty ragged, like everybody else.

« They need you over there. » he said. « The hunters want to talk to you. Bad news, I guess. Their faces were grim, and their words harsh. »

« I'm coming. » Thorin replied, and suddenly there was a tight knot in his stomach. Filled with dread, he got up to stand at Balin's side. « Rest, now. » he told Laurelin. « We won't stay here for more than a few hours, so try to sleep while you can. You need it. » Then he looked at her grand-mother. « I will send someone to bring her a dry blanket, and some food. » he promised.

The old woman nodded.

Thorin walked away with Balin, wondering what his people had possibly done to deserve such a fate.

First a dragon, and now this – by Mahal, why were the gods so cruel ?

What would befall them next ?