Where she is right - The story of Dís, daughter of kings.

27

The next day Dís sat on her pony ready for her ride to the Erebor and Bard stood next to her. Dís had carefully made herself up and looked tense. Bard held her pony stroking it's nose and said good-bye. She kissed him.

"Since last night I know for sure where I belong, Bard. Do not worry. This will be polite little courtesy call", she said, baring her teeth mockingly.

Bard looked at her with a smirk.

"Well, all right. Let me know if it'll be late. Then I pick you up or send Bain with a few men", he said.

She nodded and rode on. Before she disappeared at the next street corner she turned around briefly and waved.

The queen of Dale rode only with a small escort of two guards because the short way to Erebor was safe at broad daylight and many men and dwarves were on the road who greeted her respectfully.

It was still early this Sunday. She had not told Bard that she was invited at noon for lunch actually. But she had decided to talk to Thorin before she met with Alwa. And she feared that Bard would be hurt and concerned if he knew about that. She was uneasy herself when she thought about the upcoming meeting with her brother. Half the night she had pondered about what she should say to him. An excuse for the gold dust? Or should she stand by her opinion having wanted only the best for everyone? For herself and for him also. What would be his reaction when he saw her? Would he just send her away?

She had not wasted too much thought on the meeting with Alwa. A little conversation with the little one would not be difficult for her.

The only thing she really feared was that she would feel drawn to her brother again. At some point even Bard's patience of a saint would be at it's end. And that was something she dared not think of.

Much too fast the short way was overcome. She reached the mountain without really knowing how to proceed and this strange lack of a plan increased her anxiety. Taking a deep breath she dismounted, handing her reigns to one of the guards.

Dís knew that Thorin used the quiet hours on Sunday mornings to tie up loose ends in his office in peace. And since he had been away hunting for a few days she was sure to find him there on his own. Without a word she crossed the hall. Everybody passing by bowed deeply. It was as if she had never been away.

Thorin was indeed sitting at his desk, struggling through a letter from Thranduil's steward, who demanded sharing of the maintenance costs of the old forest road. Though, of course, all elves of Mirkwood spoke Westron the writing was written in Elvish. With half an ear he heard the sharp clacking of heels in the corridor, as the door opened and someone came in without knocking. Angered already by the arrogant letter, he looked up more than ready to give someone a dressing down for this nerve.

"Dís!", it escaped him aghast

He put the letter aside and rose. She glanced at the parchment.

"Ah, we have received that, too. We suggested to divide the costs in five parts: Erebor, Dale, Irons', Woodland and Old Fort. They make a fortune with all the transit traffic. Thus they should participate in the costs. Hans will be wise enough to cooperate, I'd think", she said.

"Hans?", Thorin asked gruffly.

"The mayor at the Old Ford", she replied and she could just bite back the remark that he should have known that.

Then they were silent and looked at each other. The way his fingers drummed on his belt she realized that he was just as tense as she was. His broad, awkward fingers. The look in his dark eyes caused her heartbeat first to stumble and then to race.