Springtime at the Lonely Mountain

Of Secrets and Treasures

Lady Barba's cool, dry hand felt even frailer than before. Ása caressed it gently and looked at her hollow face. If she hadn't known her at all, she would have thought that the lady was simply asleep. Ása wished she could do something to make her guardian well again. The healers still weren't sure what exactly ailed her. There were many conflicting theories, approaches and healing methods, but none of them seemed to work. Lady Barba was still drifting on the sea of unconsciousness. It seemed that the only thing Ása could do at that very moment was to pray to Mahal and give him thanks that he hadn't decided to take Lady Barba's soul to the halls of the forefathers. At least not yet. The awed Lady Dragon was stubbornly holding on to her life. Ása smiled faintly and gently wiped her guardian's forehead with a damp cloth. She was just about to change her bedsheets when someone cleared their throat behind her back.

"Master Frerin?" This was a surprise. Infirmary was the last place she expected to see Thorin's younger brother at this time of the day.

"Lady Ása," he bowed with a smile. "I bring you a message. Yet another one," he rolled his eyes.

He held out his hand with a sealed piece of parchment. She would recognize the seal everywhere. Thorin's ring. Her heart fluttered when she opened the message. Yes, it was written by her One, she immediately recognized his neat handwriting:

Meet me at our place tonight, after the last evening bell.

T.

"Thank you, master Frerin," Ása nodded officially and smiled, trying to ignore the heat of her blushed cheeks.

"Will there be a reply, my lady?" Frerin asked in an equally official manner, but his eyes glittered with laughter.

"Just one word: yes."

"So, what does he write?" asked Thorin's younger brother in a confidential tone and grinned.

Ása chuckled, "I am afraid I can't tell you, Frerin. It is a secret message, after all."

"Sure, sure. It's another of those lovey-dovey messages, isn't it?"

"Maybe," she replied cryptically, half-smile playing on her lips.

"I think I need to start charging for my services from now on..." the young dwarf mused. "This secret message delivery business is growing more and more boring by the hour."
"You are a very industrious young dwarf, Frerin, and you are right. Of course, we can't have you bored. What would you say about a payment in secrets instead of coins?"

"I'm all ears!"

"I can tell you," Ása lowered her voice to a whisper, "that Thorin dreams of having a whole bowl of brussels sprouts as a side dish for breakfast. But don't tell anyone!" she winked.

Frerin's eyes flashed with comprehension. He was very well aware of his brother's love-hate relationship with vegetables. Or, in the case of brussels sprouts, mainly hate.

"His secret is safe with me," the young dwarf winked conspiratorially and quickly disappeared.

Ása smiled to herself, pleased to be able to occupy Frerin's mind with something else than worrying about the current situation in Erebor. Although he was still too young to actively help Thorin with the princely duties, he was well aware of the omnipresent nervousness and strain visible on dwarven faces throughout the kingdom after the dragon's unwelcome visit. Everyone needed a good laugh, especially the youngest dwarves. Thanks to this new distraction, Frerin would hopefully plan yet another mischief. If he were to go through with it, Ása would only have to think about how to keep a straight face when Thorin was about to see a bowl of the vegetables he hated so vehemently placed next to his favorite eggs, bacon, and porridge.