Brilliant Disguise

Chapter Three

Dís smiled as Thorin led Sophie and Heather around to the far side of the trestle table. "Well, what have we here? The King Under the Mountain actually inviting others to dine with him?"

Thorin rolled his eyes as he drew out the chair next to his and said, "They're new here and they know only a few people. I hate to see anyone eat alone surrounded by people eating together. Here, Miss Heather, if your 'amad does not mind, you can sit beside me."

Heather climbed up into the chair and although it was smaller than most of the chairs in Dale, built of course for dwarves instead of Men, she was still too small for it, her feet dangling nearly six inches from the floor. Even Thorin could see she was small for her age. She most likely favored her mother in that way, as Sophie was tiny as well.

Tiny, but absolutely beautiful.

He tried not to think about it. She was married. She had a child. And while he didn't know where her husband was, or why he hadn't accompanied her, it didn't change the fact that she was married.

Heather swung her feet. "Mama, who are these people?"

Thorin heard her whisper and smiled down at her. "This is my sister, Dís." He turned to Dís. "The two of you have met, haven't you?"

Heather nodded, her eyes serious and wide. "You have a sister, though?"

"I do, indeed. And don't let her fool you—she is my baby sister as well, although she does like to order me about at times."

"But you're the king!"

"I know. But I think she forgets that from time to time and just sees her big brother instead."

Heather peered around him at Dís. "Is he a good big brother?"

Thorin offered Dís a sidelong glance as he waited for her to take her shot. But, to his surprise, she smiled and nodded. "He is, indeed, Miss Heather." She looked up at him. "He's a very good big brother."

"Good." Heather bobbed her head again. "Mama has a big brother, too, but he's not good for anything, according to her. He drinks too much and sleeps all day whenever he can and he can never hold down a job."

Sophie leaned over. "Heather, mind yourself, please."

Thorin smiled. "I heard nothing."

She looked up at him, her grey eyes wide. "She still does not need to be gossiping about family. Anyone's family."

She said it mildly, but he felt decidedly upbraided and a hint of heat swirled through him. It wasn't his place to scold Heather or tell her something was fine if her mother was trying to teach her otherwise, and he needed to remember his place as well.

"You're right, Mrs. Asharm," he said, clearing his throat as he felt Dís' eyes boring into him. She was probably enjoying his finding himself in this pickle. She wouldn't be Dís if she didn't. "I overstepped and for that, I apologize."

Sophie offered up a serene smile. "There's no need to apologize, but thank you."

"Mister Thorin, you promised me yesterday you would make me fly," Heather told him, frowning, "and you didn't."

This time, he peered over her head to meet Sophie's eyes. "That is up to your mother, mimûna. If she is all right with it, perhaps after supper."

"We'll see. The last thing I want or need is my daughter to have an upset stomach."

"Of course."

Chairs scraped the stone floor and Thorin found himself flanked by his nephews, who crouched to Heather's eye level. Fíli smiled. "And who might you be?"