Brilliant Disguise

Chapter Eighteen

"Your Majesty?"

Thorin bit back a sigh at Miss Oakmane's insistence on addressing him so formally, but as he turned toward her, his irritation fled at the sigh of her holding Heather by the hand. Immediately, he was on edge. "What is it, Miss Oakmane? What's the matter? Why hasn't Mrs. Asharm come to collect Miss Heather?"

"Well, that's why I'm here. Mrs. Asharm usually comes for Miss Heather at half-four, but she neglected to, and when I went to bring Miss Heather to their flat, Mrs. Asharm did not answer the door. I wonder if perhaps you might know where she is?"

Thorin tried to ignore the sudden twist in his belly. "I'm afraid I don't, no." He shook his head, but then crouched to meet Heather's eyes. "Why don't you come with me then, mimûna, whilst we wait for your mother?"

Heather nodded. "I'd like that that."

"You would? Good." He smiled, holding out a hand. "So would I."

"Thank you. I only wonder where Mrs. Asharm could be. This isn't at all like her."

Thorin shot her a look, then smiled at Heather once more. "Why don't you go and sit over there," he gestured to the table where they usually sat for supper, "and I'll bring us a treat from the kitchens."

"A treat?" Heather's face lit up. "Before supper?"

"I won't tell if you don't." He held out a hand.

She looked at it, then at Mrs. Oakmane, and finally back to him, then held out her hand as well. "Promise?"

He nodded, catching her hand in his to pump her arm twice. "I promise. I think Bomber baked cookies this afternoon. Ginger ones."

Heather's eyes went wide. "I like ginger cookies."

"You do? So do I." He eased his hand free and rumpled her hair. "Go and wait over there and I'll sneak a few from the kitchens."

"All right!" Heather darted off to hold up her end of the bargain, deftly swerving about other dwarves as they milled about or passed through the Great Hall.

He watched until she climbed up into her usual chair, then rose and turned to Mrs. Oakmane. "Take care with what you say around her, Mrs. Oakmane. She is far too young to see you fretting over anything, much less this."

"I beg your pardon, of course. But I am worried. This isn't like Mrs. Asharm at all. She's never missed picking Heather up before. Have you any idea where she might have got to?"

He shook his head. "I do not. But, I will go and check with the sentry after I fetch ginger cookies for Heather."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

He skirted her to head toward the kitchen, where Dori and Bomber were in a heated discussion over Mahal only knew what, and neither one paid him any mind as he helped himself to four of the ginger cookies still cooling on wire racks on the worktable along the back wall. In fact, he didn't think they even noticed him as he walked in, selected the four biggest cookies, and walked back out again with them.

Heather looked up as he drew near and she smiled. "They smell so good, Mister Thorin!"

"Don't they?" He smiled back, settling next to her, and passed her one of the cookies. "Take care now, mimûna," he cautioned, "for they are hot."

She bobbed her head solemnly. "I will."

"Good." He broke off a piece of cookie, still soft and warm from the ovens, and popped it into his mouth. The sharp warm bite of the ginger made the inside of his mouth tingle, the cookie almost melting on his tongue. A glance over at Heather, and he had to hold back a soft laugh. She looked absolutely enthralled. "Delicious, isn't it?"